Monochrome Grey

The voices were arguing again.

I hate walking.

I love walking.

I hate rain.

I love rain.

I hate flowers.

I love flowers.

Hate.

Love.

Hate.

Love.

Hate hate hate.

Love love love.

“Just keep walking.”

The voices stopped arguing.

The road ahead of me is long and straight, stretching all the way to the horizon. The desolate landscape on either side of the asphalt is only interrupted by the occasional tree, skeletal and grey. The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, as it always is, but it never rains. Occasionally, flowers unfold their petals on the side of the road, but the moment they begin to bask in the bleak watery light of the sun, they shrivel up, turning to grey dust that blows away in the sour wind.

Ever since the Cursing, the world has been dull, morbid, an inch from death.

The Cursing happened almost fifty years ago. An ancient mythical power rose from legend, awakened by the unbalanced conflict and powers in the world. As a result of this, every living thing on Earth was cursed.

The trees were cursed to never be green. The flowers were cursed to never see the sun. The sky was cursed to never rain. My second cousin was cursed to speak backward. My brother cursed to kill himself every time he saw a knife, brought back to life each time he stabbed himself. A girl I knew from high school was cursed to cry, all day every day, never seeming to run dry. And myself?

I was cursed to walk.

It happened the day after the Cursing. I went to bed the night before, as did everyone else, only to wake on the side of this road. I had no clue what had happened. Until the voices appeared and made themselves known.

Ooh is he talking about the day he met us again?

Yup.

Nice. Have you told them my name yet?

“No.”

Aww. Can I tell them?

“No.”

It’s Barnaby.

The voices are annoying.

I’m Janice.

Your name is weird.

Yours is.

Yours.

Yours.

“Walk, please.”

The voices descended into silence again.

We - I (the voices don’t count as people, do they?) - continued to walk. I count my steps, like I do everyday, the only thing to pass the time. Nine-thousand-six-hundred-and-eighty-three.

I only get to stop once the sun has dipped below the horizon. I can’t usually see when the sun sets because of the clouds, but I know I can stop because the voices disappear and a weight I don’t remember having is lifted from my shoulders.

The road stretched out forever in front of me. It never curves, never rises or falls, never crumbles, never does anything other than just be.

I haven’t seen another person in years. I don’t know how long it’s been exactly, but I know it’s been well over 1972 days. That’s when I stopped counting.

I can’t really remember the people I knew. I know I had a Mum, but her face is now blurred beyond recognition. As I said before, I had a brother. And I don’t remember her face, but I remember her name.

A girl called Audrey.

And, a baby.

Called Imogen.

The Cursing addled my memories, leaving them incomplete like a puzzle missing the most important pieces.

But if I remember their names, surely they must have been important enough to me for the Cursing to not have been able to erase them completely?

I shake my head as if to clear it, having learnt years ago that thinking too hard about those names did no good.

I watch a purple flower on the side of the road bloom, bright and beautiful, living for not even a second before it dies, it’s liveliness swallowed by the depthless grey of its surrounds.

That’s another thing. When I woke up on the side of this road all those years ago, I was drain of all colour. Literally.

What I could see of my skin had turned grey, and as my hair grew long enough for me to be able to see it, I could tell that it too was grey. Not ‘old man’ grey, but monochrome grey.

The wind blows again, hot despite the seeming coolness of the landscape. It smells, like it carries the chaos and destruction of the world I can’t see on it. I wrinkle my nose, the smell still overwhelming despite me having been in and around it for years on end.

I kick a pebble along with my shoe, the skittering sound it makes filling the empty silence of the quiet world around it. I go to kick it again, but my big toe, poking out from a hole in my ancient boots, hits the rock instead, it’s pointed edge digging into the soft flesh around the nail. I wince, sucking in a sharp breath between my teeth.

Ow.

Don’t cry, you look pathetic when you do.

Yeah.

“Thanks, guys. Really.”

No probs.

I resist the urge to swear out loud. That’ll just kick off loud, unstoppable yelling.

Hours pass, but I can’t tell. I don’t stop to eat or drink, there being no water or food, but its ok. I haven’t felt hungry or thirsty in ages. Possibly the only perk of my curse.

After the light around my begins to fade, I start to get excited. Sunset is near. I can’t tell how close though, so I ask Barnaby and Janice.

Geez, anyone would think you wanted to get ride of us.

Yeah. Real cold, bud.

How longs a piece of string?

“I don’t know.”

Exactly. So how would I know when the sun is gonna set? I’m stuck in your head. I can see as much as you do.

“How do you know I look ugly when I cry then?”

I can tell by the way you scrunch your face. It just feels ugly, man.

Yeah, you really gotta stop -

Silence.

“Guys?”

Gone.

Then I notice the familiar feeling of the weight lifting.

The sun has set.

I finally veer away from the centre of the road, collapsing under a tree hugging the edge of the asphalt.

Though it’s only just after sunset, the length of the day finally catches up to me, dragging me into an uncomfortable sleep. My legs ache, and my eyes flutter closed of their own accord.

And in the morning, I’ll do it all over again.

Walking forever on this road with no end, living forever in this monochrome grey.