The Colour Of Life
By Sebastian Weal, aged 11
‘DETENTION!’ Screamed the pale-faced teacher Mrs Black. Tom slouched back in is his creaky, old wooden chair before burying his head in his arms. He saw the world melt into a dreary black and white mist of small children and livid teachers.
Tom Smith lived in a normal house with a normal mum and a normal dad. The thing was that Tom was anything but normal. He had the amazing power of being able to SEE feelings. If someone were sad the world would turn black, white and grey, but if they were happy it would turn into all the vibrant colours of the rainbow. It was a true gift.
Tom snapped back up as soon as his name was called: ‘Tom stand up!’ He stood up. ‘For daydreaming, again, you will stay and sharpen the pencils for the whole class”. The world turned deep grey. Tom groaned while some of the rest of his class sniggered and whispered.
So, that break he sat in his colourless world sharpening the pencils that were sprawled all around him. The worst part was that he could see his friends bouncing outside and he was getting slightly queasy from the sudden changes between colour and grey. And then the school bully walked in and the world turned black – Tom could see his anger that clearly. He could see the bully’s missed breakfast, as his mum was too lazy to serve it; he could see the non-existent lunch. And he could see the long absent father too. The colour of betrayal was definitely black. So, before the bully could say, or even worse, do anything, Tom pulled out his lunch box, offered it to the boy and said: ‘I totally see how you feel. Lets share my lunch, shall we?” The world turned lighter shade of grey. But then, Tom understood in a split second, just before his lunch box took a flight in the bully’s colossal hand, that this was as bright as it got for this boy – his world was grey, full stop.
Just as Tom thought that he was safe, he felt his solid lunch box smack his forehead. He could see the grey apple collide with his ear. And he could see the black blood pour out of it. And then, there was no pink, white or black, just simply nothing. The world disappeared. The last thing he remembered thinking was: ‘Was this encounter with the bully one too many? And, why could he see no colour at all? What did that mean?’
Tom's mother was standing in front of the window, looking at the garden in full bloom. She was in deep thought admiring the flower whose name she did not know and whose colour she could not describe - it simply was a blend of every single shade of every colour you could ever think of. "I shall call it Tom" she said to herself and slowly bent to take its deep, sweet smell ....