That's the colour of blood. but it feels like the world is stained that colour. It's seeping through the cracks of my life.
Wherever I go, it follows me. And slowly, it steals the people around me. My parents, my friends, and my sister. I'd given up on everything; I'd decided not to feel.
But the red still chases after me. Once, I turned round and faced it. Shouting at it, to take anyone but me.
It spread further, enveloping faceless names and drenching others in it's dark crimson. It was to much, to bright. So I turned back and kept running.
It caught up to me, once. Everything turned black, the colour was disappearing.
But then it was back, and with it came another. His life, to, was shadowed by scarlet.
But he didn't keep running. He just stopped and turned round in a quiet defiance, always watching as it ran through lives. He watches it's tracks and reveals them, he calms the torrent of colour as it rushes towards nameless faces.
He spends his life uncovering, directing. I'd spent mine running.
But I don't want to run anymore.
I'm tired of looking over my shoulder in fear, of watching people drown in it's embrace. So I'll join him, and turn around.
I won't run, I won't scream in sorrow and fear. I'll watch calmly, and reveal it's running streams, sooth it's boiling rivers. His life will be my aim; I'll stay with him.
But it's hard.
The last time I turned, from fear, his path was coloured by the crimson that spread from my terror.
I broke apart his life in my ignorance and in my dread.
He hardly seemed to care. But as I watch him, I see his hidden pain. It's almost invisible, he hides it well. But I can see it clear as the dawn.
He told me, once. I'm the only one he told. We're two of a kind; we're alone. So I was the only one he could tell.
He apologized for my sister. He told me that his scarlet had buried her.
I told him no.
We're the only ones that understand.
I see the sorrow in his smiles, his regrets behind his words. He sees the feelings behind my emotionless façade, the other meanings to my speech.
When I cried, he comforted me.
When he broke, I put him back together.
We both try to fix our mistakes, we both try to accept our pasts and now our futures. We stick together.
It's a miracle that we're together. That of all the hundreds of roads I could have wandered to, I went to his.
We're joined together by fate.
By crismon and scarlet strings of fate.
Our lives are forever intertwined.
We will break and hurt, crumble and fall.
We will laugh and shout, smile and love.
I've learnt that crimson doesn't have have to mean blood, that scarlet doesn't have to mean death.
He was Kudo Shinichi, now he's Edogawa Conan.
I was Miyano Shiho, now I'm Haibara Ai.
But still my life, our lives, are painted with a colour.
AN: This came from an assignment in English class. Please review! Helpful flames are welcome! I might make a few more like this if you think it's ok.
-Natasha Solum Umbra