Shades of Gray on Shades of Grey

Even if this book wasn't brilliant, I was predisposed to think that it was. Jasper Fforde's books are off the wall, hilarious, and original. Shades of Grey easily lives up to the work that came before it.

The novel is set in a post-apocylyptic world, but is not filled with bleak and desolate landscapes or cannibals as many novels in the same setting contain. Instead, whatever ended the previous world is no longer of any (perceived) importance. In the world of Chromatica, social structure is determined by a person's color perception. The Greys are at the lowest end of this order and Purple is at the top.

The narrator of the story is Eddie Russet, a Red who finds himself on the fringes of the known world. He is a reluctant hero with whom the reader shares the discovery of secretes. As Eddie's views of his world are challenged, Fforde pokes fun at today's society. Then, just when the book seems like it is going to hold love up above the expectations of society, duty to a greater cause triumphs.

Many questions still remain to be answered, and I look forward to reading more in this series.

Psycho exercise

For my creative writing homework, we were supposed to write a frightening scene. Not sure I'm happy with this result.

--

Rich shouldn’t be home yet. I massaged the shampoo into my hair, waiting for him to come tell me he was back. Nothing happened, though I could swear I heard something scrape against the wall. I turned the water off, standing a moment to listen. The house was silent. I stepped out onto the bathmat and wrapped a towel around me. Opening the door, I peered down the hall.

“Hey, Rich.”

Nothing. I couldn’t see into the kitchen from here. As I stepped out into the hall, I called out again.

“Hey, Rich, is that you?”

A thin bent shadow darted across the wall. That wasn’t Rich. Something was in the kitchen.

I froze paralyzed. I took a step backwards, never moving my eyes from where I had seen the shadow.

It appeared around the corner. The figure was black as if clothed in a robe. It leaned against the wall, fingers scraping as it moved. Its wide staring eyes filled my vision. The scream would not escape my throat. I threw myself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I tried three times before I could get my trembling fingers to lock the door. I pressed my body up against the wall. I could feel sobs welling in my throat, and behind my eyes.

The scraping came closer, and closer, and closer. Then silence. I tried to hold my breath.

The doorknob rattled.

FInally...

I know it has been forever.... Oh well.

This is inspired by Van Gogh's "Starry Night." It was an in class activity.

"A cold wind tumbles over a sleepy town. A few twinkling candles, in a few dim windows, mimic the lights looking down. The moon, with its chestier cat smile, looks down bathing the church with its pale light. A song rises from the ancient church to meet the stars in the sky. They tumble together mixing pale colors. Nothing else breaths. Kay stared up at those dancing lights from the stone steps. The beautiful music that shimmered with the stars sent a shiver down her spine. She wished she could fly up with the music and join the stars just as love had done before."

Fear

A bit of prose... this was inspired by the question: What do you fear the most?

I am hunted by a monster.

It has wild eyes, bloody horns, matted hair, and a bone-chilling scream. I can always see it lurking in the shadows. It whispers lies, taunts, and torments me. I can’t seem to hide from it no matter how hard I try.

I remember the first day I saw it. I don’t know how I never noticed it before. It came up behind me, and when I turned I froze with fright. Its cold eyes pierced my flesh and told me lies. With a hollow shriek, it leaped at me, bloody claws reaching for my heart. I snapped out of my frozen state, and jumped out of the way just in time. Then I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, and the creature pursued me. I could hear it so close behind me; its hot breath brushed my neck.

I ran all the way to my house, up the stairs, into my room, and slammed the door. Quickly, I locked the door. Slowly, I backed away from the door, never taking my eyes off it. My breath came in quick ragged gasps. Relief settled in me. It could not come through the door. My blood turned to ice when I turned around.

It stood behind me, blood dripping from its talons. My heart stopped, and my blood turned to ice in my veins. With one desperate effort, I threw myself at the creature. I flailed my arms and yelled all with a vain hope that the thing would leave. But I did not collide with the bloodthirsty monster. Instead, I crashed headlong into a mirror. The blood on my hands was my own where the glass had cut my skin.

I am the monster.