"Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways."
- Oscar Wilde.
She likes the Colors.
Five years old and the size of a baby doe, the little girl likes the Colors that always seem to float in the air around her.
Of all the menial treasures in her life (her two and three-quarter toy soldiers and half of a purple crayon), the Colors are her favorite. She's seen these Colors, learned their shapes and language, since before she could speak. She likes to play, to reach out and swipe her hand through them, watching them fracture, melt and reform into their nature.
Girl knows her aunt, uncle and cousin cannot see the Colors. She tried to show them once, reaching up to touch Dudley's eyes and turn on the light switch only she could see…before being unceremoniously shoved away. She knows they think she is odd, abnormal, a freak— you little mutant, shut up, don't touch him with your filthy little paws—
She wonders if her parents would have been able to see.
The child spends days and days locked up after that. Curled up on her tiny dirty cot in the Cupboard Under the Stairs, she dances her hands in the air, watching them smear glowing orange, then red, then yellow in the air. A spiral of soft baby blue curls away from the rest and lifts of tuft of her downy black hair off her eyes…Girl giggles softly and wraps it around her finger gently, feeling it warm against her just slightly. Her affection, returned: a novel concept for a girl who hasn't really known anything but loneliness.
After a while, her stomach grumbles and clenches with hunger. Tears well up in her eyes. When was the last time she ate?
The beautiful Colors, they notice her pain. A shift in Their mood, like tasting a shimmer of tanginess. Girl knows, she is sure, so sure, no matter if no one can see them but her, those Colors they can feel and think just like her. They are her best friends…her only friends. Her lip quivers. Her eyes flick when she sees the colors move from their usual places curling around her arms towards her belly.
For a fraction of a moment, the glow turns into a soft green song and suddenly it doesn't hurt anymore and she whispers in a voice too tired for someone so small—