Written by Sonora for the game Snap Shot, Writing Prompt #22
I think my insides are weeping.
It’s not blood.
Every place I step, in the corners of my clothes, under my fingernails, I keep seeing smudges of colour. Red and purples and yellows. It started last Tuesday, after art class. I scrubbed and scrubbed at my fingers until my skin burned and still the water ran blue. I dreamed about oceans and seaweed that night. My hair was tangled in the weeds and I was cold, grabbing at air bubbles as I watched the sun’s light fade, high above me.
Wednesday it was orange. It left marks in my sneakers and orange fingerprints on my school books. I watched it ooze out as my father yelled at the news reporter on the tv and Mama shook her head. I dreamed the sun was pressing down on my face, burning a print on my cheek as I dug through the dirt to try to get away.
Thursday I tapped pink polkadots on the car window on the way to school. Someone was holding a sign on the highway that just said “no”. I pulled my knees up to my chin at recess and watched the pink peek through my socks. I dreamed that I was laying in the backyard and it started to rain blood. Just a few drops, then more and more. The wind gusted iron-tasting spray into my face and I didn’t know what else to do so I jumped in puddles until my skin was coated.
Friday I snuck out of the house, leaving odd-coloured footprints behind me. I was dripping now, smearing handprints on walls and scuffing rainbows on the pavement. The protestors crouched along the roads and stared into the distance with pain-filled eyes. The colour spilled onto my eyelashes, down my chin. Dizzying droplets spattered the ground all around me as I joined hands with the people on either side. It started to rain, like in my dream. But this time it was just water. The colours started to pour off of me and run down the streets and splash against people’s shoes. People started scooping it up and laughing and throwing it at each other until we were all rainbows.
We started on the houses and the stores, throwing it up into the air and splatting it on windows and across lawns. The whole time, the colours ran from every pore of my body.
When the last tree was coated, the colours suddenly stopped. Everyone around me was crying instead. Big salty, regular tears poured down my face and the woman next to me smiled and wiped away her own. I smiled back, because it was okay to be sad.