The Day the World Changed Colors

Warning: this story contains mention of suicide, mental health, and it’s kinda psychological, so prepare your brain.

Marina walked through the white sterile hallways, head fixed forward and posture straight. Her clipboard was tightened against her chest and her glasses sat promptly on her nubian nose, black and round like her eyes. Her blonde hair was in a tight bun, sitting on the throne that was her head. It contrasted with her eyes just enough to resemble balance, just like she liked it. Her coat was white, as you might have guessed, and hung on her shoulders perfectly before dropping into a billowing cape at her knees. Her black heels clicked on the tile, making her presence known.

There was no one else in the hallway.

Marina continued walking, clicking her heels precisely. Her hair didn’t swing, her arms didn’t move, and she just kept walking.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, stretching into an endless void of white walls. The tile was white, the lights were a glowy silver, cupped in place by ceramic chandeliers the size of her hand, spaced every 2 ceiling panels. They created just enough light to where only a small sliver of every space was cast in shadow. There were no plants, but there were benches. They were cold and uncomfortable, but they allowed you to rest when you walked down this hallway. There was a water fountain every once and a while, but the water wasn't very good because they had taken any blue out and made it clear, purely to match the color scheme.

Marina didn’t rest. She kept walking, white clipboard creating an indention in her torso and staying in place. Her heels, as I mentioned, began clicking louder. Click-click-click-click.

The hallway stretched ahead, starting to wobble and change shape.

Click-click-click-click.

The lights flickered at the end of the hallway, finally turning off.

Click-click-click-click.

Marina still didn’t stop. She kept walking.

Click-click-click-click.

Soon, the darkness was surrounding her. She kept walking. She couldn’t stop. She could feel her mind begging her stop. ‘Stop, stop, STOP!’

Click-click-click-click.

Marina’s heels kept moving to an unknown beat, marching down the dark hallway. ‘Stop, please,’ her mind begged. It was as if a force had taken her body hostage, making it disobey her mind.

Click-click-click-click.

Suddenly, a giant hole showed before her, a dark pit echoing down. Now her mind was panicking. ‘Marina, Marina stop. Stop Marina. Stop!’

Click-click-click-click.

And then the ground was gone. Her heart jumped, her stomach lost gravity, her eyes closed. She felt her neatly pressed clothing slip into a wrinkly state. Her hair came undone. She screamed.

All.

The way.

Down.

Poof.

Marina landed softly on her bed. Her blankets were twisted and tight and her pillows were strewn on the floor. Her hair lay in a messy tangle around her head. Her hand was clenched tightly on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing.

Slowly, cautiously, Marina sat up, her arms shaking violently. She glanced to the left. She glanced to the right. She moved her brown eyes forward. Nothing.

With a small sigh of relief, Marina swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “It was just a dream.”

She got up, pressing her feet against the hardwood floor. She walked to her bathroom, turning on the light and welcoming the green tile she had placed in earlier that year.

But, she noticed, they weren’t green. In fact, they were white. The sight scared Marina, but only for a second. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”

She continued to her sink, turning to close the door to the bathroom. She stopped. There, on the floor, wasn’t the dark brown, hardwood floor she had put in when she bought the house. It was more white tile, creating a diamond pattern across her bedroom.

Marina closed the door. She opened the door. She closed the door again. Open. It wasn’t changing, it wasn’t brown. It wasn’t her floor.

Marina sat down on the floor, ignoring the white rug in front of her sink that had appeared in place of the black one she had bought earlier that week. Is she in the right house? Had she gone in the right one? It had to be, everything was so similar. It was just the color. And, as she looked around, she realized everything was white. Well, maybe the cleaner had come in yesterday, and done something. Or maybe her mother. She always complained about how outlandish Marina’s house was. Maybe Marina hadn’t noticed when she got home after a night with her friends. Maybe she was too tired, or maybe a little too dr. Yes, that was it.

Marina nodded, content with her semi-rational thinking. She took a deep breath, standing and turning to the sink. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and applied her makeup. At least that still has color.

Marina turned to walk out of the bathroom, but stopped. She looked in the mirror, straight at her eyes. They were still brown.

She walked to the kitchen and made coffee. But, it didn’t look like coffee. It looked like milk. It tasted like it, but didn’t look the part. And, her cabinets, which were usually the wood and color she had used for her flooring, were now white. But, Marina ignored it. She had already made her decision. This was all an accident.

Marina got dressed. Before you ask, she always got dressed after she had coffee in her system. She couldn’t bear getting dressed uncaffeinated; it had ended up in some interesting outfits.

Unintentionally, Marina had dressed in a white button down in white pants. Well, she knew what she was putting on, but everything in her closet was white. Annoyed, but not wanting to be late, Marina threw on a pair of shoes and grabbed her bag. Then, she ran to the bathroom, nearly tripping in her heels. She smoothed her hair back with gel and tied it in a bun. Begrudgingly, she thought, ‘Uh, thanks, Dream (?), for the hairstyle idea…’ before running out into the world.

As soon as Marina stepped outside, she knew something was wrong. Everything was white. The trees. The cars. The street. Marina sat on the sidewalk, holding her head in her hand. Her breathing quickened. What was going on?

Marina closed her eyes and ran, still tripping in her shoes. Eventually, somehow, she appeared at her job, unscathed. It too was a shining shade of pearl, lighting up with the sun. The sun. Marina turned and looked at the shining white sphere that served as lighting. In terror, Marina ran inside.

Marina felt blind. THere was so much white, so much of one color. So bland, so monotone. So colorless. So…familiar. By now, she knew this wasn’t a mistake; there was something going on.

Trying to compose herself, she clicked over to the front desk. “Uh, hi, Marina Barlowe, here for Project Clandestine?” The woman behind the desk nodded, not looking at all shaken by the change of colors.

Marina smiled a little, but quickly let it evaporate when she turned away from the desk. She grabbed a pair of glasses (the ones she would need for observation) off of a nearby station. Take one! Marina tensed as she put the glasses on her head. The world was now only slightly blurry, but the world was still white. Then, she looked down a hallway. With a breath, she started walking.

Everything was the same. The hallway stretching, the spaced benches, the water fountains. Marina was still surprised about the water fountains; she had tried to get a drink and out poured very clear water. Marina let it run on the floor. She didn’t end up drinking any water.

Her heels clicked. A clipboard she had grabbed upon entry was hugged against her chest. Her hair was tight. But there was something worse.

As Marina walked, she realized she couldn’t stop. Her feet continued one step in front of the other, over and over.

At first, she ignored it. But soon, Marina started panicking. She started trying to flex her arms, move her limbs, do something. Anything. But nothing worked.

She began thinking. Maybe this is a dream? Maybe she is back in her dream. Maybe she tripped while running and blacked out. Maybe everything is fine and in color. Maybe everything is good. Maybe, if I can just find that hole, I can jump in and I’ll wake up in my bed.

Somehow, Marina was able to make herself walk faster. Soon, she was running.

Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop.

The scenery moved around her, passing by faster and faster. Eventually, the void was in sight, and Marina only ran faster.

Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop.

Her feet moved in an array of black stripes and a white background. She could sense a feeling. Dread? Freedom? Excitement? No, it was fear taking over. Or was it…curiosity? Whatever it was, she could feel the void getting closer, bigger, beckoning her. It opened its big, black arms and waved her in.

Marina felt her heart jump, her mind race, her legs enter the air. Her heels began slipping, her hair undid, and her glasses lifted off her cheeks and carefully sculpted nose.

Then she fell.

Screaming.

Somewhere above, hidden behind a piece of one-way glass, was a white-cloaked figure. Her hair was done up in a tight, blonde bun and her eyes were a deep shade of brown. Black glasses sat on a rounded, Nubian nose. Her black heels were standing unmoving on white tile. She had a clipboard held in her arms. Her eyes were appearing to watch as the body plummeted to the ground.

With a swift movement of a pen, she wrote down something on her paper.

Test subject #5682: stayed sane for quite a bit, but soon lost her brain. Next test subject will be given less time in her real house, more in the white other world.

With a curt nod, the woman turned and walked away, heels clicking against the floor.

Click-click-click-click.