WARNING: This one went down a dark road. Don’t read it if you don’t like the horror genre.
Looking out at the drab landscape that scretched itself before him, he considered the state of his own soul. Did this landscape reflect what was inside of his heart? The withered trees leaned against years of blowing winds. The short, stunted grass struggled against the heat of the sun and yearned for rain. Grey. There was nothing around him but grey. A rainbow had never painted itself across the sky. The sky had never turned radiant has the day came to a close. Flowers never bloomed. Was the cause of this within himself?
He stood and brushed the sand from his pants. Shielding his eyes, he gave the view another look. It never changed. Every day it presented itself the same. He turned and went into the shabby and crumbling house that he existed within. The kitchen was sparse and the counters bare. Pulling out the drawer next to the dull metal sink, he considered the contents before selecting the appropriate tool.
The dim light traced a silver line along the thin ragged edge of the knife. He ran his finger tip across it and smiled when the red welled up from his dusty brown skin. There was brightness and color hidden beneath this world he could see. Determined to find it, he carried the knife with him into the coldness of the bathroom. The wallpaper had faded and was peeling. The once vibrant flowers had all but vanished through the passing years.
The mirror reflected his grey eyes. As grey as the world that they saw. Everything was grey. He lifted the knife and paused, his hand trembled. He could not second geuss himself now. Nothing would change if he did not make it change. In a single swift movement, he plunged the knife into his eye and dung it out. It plopped into the empty sink and the red splashed down over it, painting the room with the only color it had known in years.
Pain washed over him and he puked. Only bile came up. It washed over the sink and mixed with the blood, mellowing and sickening its vibrance. He clutched at the sink’s edge. Grey wisps floated in his mind and made the world spin. Swallowing hard, he willed himself to remain concious. His work was not yet done. There was no way he could have known had much harder the second one would be.
The shaking of his hand became worse with each throb in his face. He grasped the knife with both hands, but it made no difference. Drawing deep breaths and blowing them out slowly; I must make the change. A second time the knife struck and the second orb fell. Darkness came. There was no more grey. Lifting his head up to the mirror brought a smile to his face. He imagined that his skin was radiant and his eyes gleamed blue.
He would see the frey no more.