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The Boy Who Could Not See Colours
- Lady Ronit
- Oct 8, 2024
- 7 min read
Updated: Oct 18, 2024
Once upon a time, there was a boy who woke up one day and could not see colours. His room suddenly turned black and white, and everything ceased to be the same as before. Even his favourite toy no longer interested him. It was a doll, a rag doll, somewhat worn but very pretty—or at least it used to be. The boy received it from his parents when he was 15 years old. It was a rare collector's doll. He displayed it on a shelf like a trophy and showed it off to his friends. Everyone wanted one like it.
That day, the boy got out of bed, placed his feet on the carpet, and was terrified because he could not see their colours. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, and grey appeared instead of the blue fluff, and his feet lacked their usual skin tone as he silently screamed. It turned out that his voice had changed too—it was inaudible, deaf, though he still existed.
Without thinking much, the boy ran down the stairs in his pyjamas, hastily heading to the kitchen below, but found no one there. He was alone in his parents' big house, utterly alone. His father had vanished, his mother had vanished. The table was set as usual; surely the staff had done a lot of work for it, but he was not hungry. So, he hurried back upstairs and once again looked around that grey room, which seemed so disgusting and empty to him, with the hideous doll lying in the middle on the chaise longue. He no longer wanted it; once his favourite, today it was so grey, so dull. Who would want it? Certainly not him.
He approached the doll, grabbed it by the legs, and wrestled with it with all his might, wondering if it hurt. After all, it was just an ordinary doll. Then he started rummaging through the drawers, terrified as he examined clothes, mementos, but nothing stirred any emotions in him; it was all grey. It would be just as well to forget about it. Nothing before him held any value anymore. Everything felt as if it were made of cardboard, like a prop he felt no connection to and did not want to.
The boy returned to bed, hoping to wake up. He lay there, and although he rubbed his eyes in astonishment, and despite shutting them tightly with all his might, praying to God that when he opened his eyes, he would at least see remnants of colour, he absolutely could not see them. Two weeks passed, and his mom and dad returned home. The boy still could not see colours, but he decided he would tell no one. The toy still lay abandoned in the corner, but he did not even think about it. His parents had not noticed this change at all, nor did they explain their absence to the child. He did not ask either, having grown accustomed to their lack of interest in his childhood. Even as a small boy, they left him for weeks, and his grandmother took care of him. Now that he was older, almost an adult, he was not surprised when his parents disappeared without warning.
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