Color in a Blank World by Sophia Zhang {Inklings Book Contest 2021 Finalist}

 Today we are featuring Inklings Book Contest 2021 finalist Sophia Zhang! Sophia finished 7th grade this past school year. Her story is called “Color in a Blank World.” At the end of the story, check out the original image Sophia sent us to go along with her story. It’s gorgeous!

Color in a Blank World
by Sophia Zhang

Sometimes, I am haunted by the things humans do. When humans can learn to forget that others are human too. When I descend to the Earth and the world is shrouded by grey. When the Earth turns dark. That is when even I am scared of humans.

Ah, yes. First, an introduction, where are my manners? You have probably seen or heard of me before already, and if you haven’t, you soon will. I am Death. Many mistaken me as a cold, heartless, life-stealer, but give me a chance to explain. 

Humans are the real thieves. 

They rob themselves of life; a small pull of a trigger, and a life is lost. 

Me? I am merely a collector, a transporter. I collect the dead souls who have lost their physical bodies. I then transport the souls to the next world. So no, I am not a thief, I am simply a means of transportation, a messenger of souls. 

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t sometimes impressed by humans. After all, I am not so foolish as to judge an entire species based on the deeds of a few. There was one girl, especially, that I was astonished by. I try not to get into the business of humans, but against better judgment, I was intrigued by this girl. By Effie.

Effie was a 16-year-old girl, born in 8011 AD. Her last name was Lightfoot. Lightfoot didn’t mean anything; the government had randomly chosen for her that surname, but it was true, Effie was quick on her feet and ever lighter in her mind. After she was born, like everyone else, the Ahm took care of her. There were many Ahms, a new one a day, but each Ahm always commented on how fast Effie was. Effie’s eyes always crinkled into crescents and a sort of bubbly cough would escape her mouth when they said that–a laugh. Then, suddenly, when she was five, Effie moved into her current home, and the silence and blankness began.

Effie did not belong in this grey world. In contrast to the dreariness of the world, Effie was a vivid ball of color. She had striking blue eyes, clear as the sky, large and wide, seeming curious, inquisitive. Thick golden hair draped over her shoulders the way honey dripped down a honeycomb. Effie’s mind was even more radiant, packed with questions, thoughts, and pictures. There were splashes of color everywhere, questions and wonderings filling every nook and cranny, and the stories! Stories flowed through Effie’s mind. If I could remember the stories, I would share them with you. But at last, I cannot, what a shame.

But now, I hold Effie, whose body is cold, whose once rosy skin is an unhealthy white. Her hair, which was golden and alive, hung limp and still on her head. Worst of all was Effie’s unseeing eyes. Still open. Frozen. 

I bent down and scooped up Effie’s soul. It was still warm and pulsated. Slowly, in my palm, it grew cold. I slipped it into my pocket and stole away, taking away with me the only color in a movie of black and white.

There was a pen on the ground. I stopped. Usually, I would pick it up and add it to my collection of pens. But this time, I left it on the ground.

When I released her soul into the next world, there was a firework of colors. This is an image I imagine whenever humanity plunges into the dark. I hang onto this image when the world bleeds dry. And I try to notice the colors. Even in the dark. When I see these colors, I think of Effie. Yes, I am often reminded of this girl. 

As a collector, I’ve scooped up her story and kept her story in one of my many jars, jars of stories waiting to be told. Stories that prove to me that you, that humanity, is indeed worth a while. 

So come with me. 

I will tell you a story.

A story of brightness,

Of color.

******

Earlier, Effie was standing on her street. The color of that day was blue. The sky was sapphire blue like an ocean, the waves twisting and turning, growing then crashing. The edge of the sky was burned black. Grey clouds crisscrossed the sky. 

I lurked around, watching her. My pockets were already heavy with souls. But there was one more I had to collect.

Effie was wearing only grey; a government-issued grey T-shirt, grey sweatpants, and grey sneakers. On her head sat a large grey hat that obscured her face from others. 

Effie’s street was empty. A few houses, all identical, lined the street. Each house was white and bare, with only a small rectangular front door, and two large glass windows. The entire structure was shaped like a box. Or a cage.

“Outside at last!” Effie whispered to herself, grinning.

Suddenly, a neighbor of hers stepped out of his house. He walked with his back slouched, feet dragging. Only the babies, still being taken care of by Ahms, walked with a spring in their steps. Effie’s neighbor’s face was also covered with a government-issued cap, and dressed in a government-issued tracksuit.

Government uniforms were made so that people didn’t take interest in others. Newspapers called this an ingenious idea. No interaction between people meant no conflict between people. Effie, however, couldn’t help but imagine how she would look dressed in rainbow colors. Perhaps in blue pants and a flamboyant red T-shirt. Effie shook this idea out of her head. Impossible. The Justenance would come. 

Just thinking about the Justenance made Effie shiver. The Justenance were a group of government officers, whose eyes hid at every corner. Their eyes were people, your neighbors, your teacher, perhaps a stranger. Their eyes were also the cameras instilled in every corner of a house, outside the house, in the trees, on streetlights. Their eyes could just be the smell of fresh paper, the scent of a sharpie. Their eyes were everywhere. At any infraction of the law, they knew. And the punishment: Death. I have met millions of people who died at the hands of the Justenance. They all shared the same look: eyes wide open in shock, mouth open in an eternal scream. Effie believed that the Justenance was only doing what was best for society, but even then, some part of her mind repelled the barbarism of the Justenance. 

Effie shook her head again and, out of nervous habit brushed her hands over her pen in her pant pocket. Pens were rare then; people only had what the Justenance gave them. The Justenance certainly did not hand out pens. The Justenance made sure each citizen had nothing to do with reading or writing, except for necessities. These were deemed as “frivolous” activities that did not contribute to society. So, everyone stayed at home in their houses, doing as they were told. 

As Effie’s earliest memory, an Ahm had gently pressed this pen into her hands. She’d looked directly into Effie’s eyes. Effie remembered looking at her own reflection in the Ahm’s chocolate brown gaze. “Write your own story,” she had said. 

The next day, as per routine, a new Ahm was there. But Effie could not forget the Ahm’s sad brown eyes. I also remember the Ahm’s eyes. But, by the time I saw her, her eyes were glassy and far away. 

The pen was cold on Effie’s fingertips. Her hands felt the bumps of the engraved name on it. Feona Grace. Effie didn’t know whose name it was, but it was important to her. Aside from homework, these two words were the only words she ever saw.  

Resurfacing from her mind, Effie gazed at her neighbor. Before her mind even was aware, Effie opened her mouth.

“Hello!” she called out.

The neighbor ignored her and kept on pacing. 

Effie’s face heated red with embarrassment. Effie brushed the pen again. She didn’t know what compelled her to speak, to do something so out of the norm, something so discouraged. But still, Effie found a burning will in her heart to speak with somebody, anybody.

So Effie determinedly called out, “We’ve been neighbors for a long time, yet I…” when the neighbor turned to stare at her, Effie trailed off. Then, bravely, she continued on, “yet I… I… realized I never knew your name.” 

When he didn’t respond yet again, Effie quickly spun around, opened the door to her own cage-shaped house, and slammed the door shut. The door locked automatically with a click. I followed her in.

******

Effie’s day was planned out strictly by the Justenance. Every day followed the same routine. Wake up. Dress. Eat. Log in to school. Outdoor break. Homework. Sleep. The Justenance allowed Effie’s door to be unlocked during the period from 3:30-4:00 pm. That was her outdoor break time, the only time Effie was allowed out of the house–food, toiletry, and essentials were all provided mysteriously by the Justenance–and one of Effie’s favorite times of the day. Effie always felt an attraction to the outdoors. She’d heard long ago from one of her Ahms that the outdoors used to be filled with plants of all shapes and sizes ranging from a graceful blood-red ballerina plant called a rose, to the charming purple-tinged plant called succulents. Effie longed to live in a world where even plants were a palette of paint, where color managed to blind people’s eyes. Although the world outside was bleak and dreary, Effie’s imaginary world was a painting of brightness. 

The other time of day Effie enjoyed was the period after she finished her homework and got into bed. Only during then was her mind free of any tasks. She was left free to run away in her mind. Effie would immediately spring up from her tablet, speed past the hall, and collapse on the bean bag in her bedroom. The beanbag, when sat on, always provided a very satisfying crunch sound, like somebody crumpling up a failed painting.

Now, Effie flopped on her bean bag. In a sudden change of mood, Effie closed her eyes. 

In her mind, a story spun. 

With no paper, Effie’s pen was useless. The only media Effie then had was her mind. What she “wrote” each day in her mind was very random. Some days she would continue an ongoing story. Other days, in a sudden rage, she would quit the story and start a brand new adventure with a brand new storyline. Effie loved writing, this was something she could not live without. When the world outside was so despondent and gloomy, Effie found it so magical that she could conjure up and live in an entirely new world just by thinking up a few sentences. When the loneliness of being so alone pierces her heart, Effie would birth herself thousands of friends.

But today, Effie couldn’t stop fingering her pen. Daydreams of writing on smooth paper overshadowed all other thoughts. Effie sighed and opened her eyes. She pulled out the pen, holding it close to her eyes, inspecting it. The pen was an old fountain pen. Originally made of bright red and gold shiny metal, the polish had worn off, leaving a dull maroon and dirt-brown. Nevertheless, Effie cherished the pen. She loved randomly touching it and feeling the sharp pang of cold, of knowing that the pen had once been a vessel for the words of a thousand letters, a thousand stories, a thousand ideas. Effie uncapped the pen. She stared at the tip, still wet with ink.

It was as if someone else controlled Effie’s hand. One stroke later, Effie’s skin had the word ‘Effie’ etched into it. The ink bled slightly in the creases on Effie’s skin, tentacles of ink stretching and growing, twisting and changing. Effie’s hand shook and trembled. But Effie continued on. Her mind was blank, yet her hand moved with much agility. A story pouring out from hand alone. 

Word by word, a story was composed. By the time Effie finished, her entire left arm was covered in ink. With one deep sigh, Effie collapsed into her bean bag. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, deflating like a balloon whose air was let out. Her heart thudded one two three in her chest, and her hair was muttered to her forehead with sweat. 

Thoughts raced through her mind. Would the Justenance know? Were the Justenance watching?

The adrenaline slowly faded, a tide receding from sand. It left Effie feeling empty.

What’s done is done Effie thought. Facing reality, she knew she had done something that would warrant the wrath of the Justenance. She didn’t feel exactly scared, but only as if something that had been bottled up in her had been released. A champagne bottle being popped open. 

Effie surveyed her masterpiece. It wasn’t pretty, but to Effie it was glorious. Writing on skin left some words misshapen and crooked, but Effie loved it nonetheless. Each imperfection was the unique trait of another being. The tilted ‘a’ was the slightly eccentric Ahm she once had. The curly ‘g’ was the smile always on another Ahm’s face. Each letter a new person. 

Effie capped her pen.

She tucked it back in her pockets.

Effie went to sleep that night feeling light and elated as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Had she been paying more attention, she would have seen the flash of red light, the soft beep that sounded for a minute long. 

Effie dreamed of being watched.

******

Banging. 

Creaking.

Shaking.

Effie awoke to the sharp pain of rough hands harshly grabbing at her wrists, forcing them behind her back. Still half stuck in dreamland, Effie blinked her puffy eyes, trying to shake the sleep out of them. Only on the third blink did Effie finally realize something was wrong. She looked up.

Three men surrounded her. They wore the standard government-issued clothing and hats but there was one difference. Their uniforms were black. 

Black, devoid of everything. Black as nothing. Black as death. Although Effie had never seen people in black before, she knew exactly who they were. 

The Justenance. 

The man holding her wrists tightened his grip, Effie immediately screamed.

“Help! Someone help!”

Even as she was screaming, Effie knew it was no use. Who was there to help her? She was alone in her house. The Justenance didn’t even bother to silence her. They worked with quiet efficiency.

Still desperately screaming, Effie kicked and thrashed at the Justenance. They didn’t spare her a glance, only the man holding her tightened his grip once again. They dragged her away, destination unknown. As they were dragging her, Effie felt the pen digging into her leg. Only after noticing that she had the pen did she stop screaming.

The pen gave Effie a feeling of comfort.

The Justenance stopped at the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. The sky was bright blue, the sunlight glittering in rays. It was the most beautiful sight Effie had seen. It was that sapphire blue color that has been ingrained in my mind.

Effie’s neighbor was outside too. She started shouting again, although this time half-heartedly. Perhaps it was instinct, but she knew he wouldn’t help. Her neighbor stared at the Justenance, but refused to look at Effie.

Effie’s terror mounted again when she saw it.

The gun.

Sleek, black, and shiny. It smelled of oil. This smell masked another putrid, horrid scent. I knew at a whiff what it was. I had confronted this smell so many times before.

Blood. Just a hint of it. Effie’s dinner churned in her stomach. 

The Justenance cocked the gun.

Effie thought of the sky.

Aimed.

Effie thought of her pen.

BOOM.

Feona Grace.

Silence.

The pen rolled out of Effie’s pocket.

The neighbor’s eye glinted.

Years have passed since that, and I haven’t said a word to anyone. I don’t know why I’m telling you this story now, but I just felt that I needed to share it with someone. I guess maybe I also wanted to remind myself of how the human race is both ugly and yet so glorious, humans are both thieves and saviors, and the stories that are created are both brutal and beautiful.

Effie was color in a blank world.

I am still haunted by humans.