Colors

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This one isn’t as good as I think it could be. I will probably rewrite it in the future

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Colors
By: intestinal-parasit3

Did you know that there are colors we can’t see? I’m sure you’ve heard of ultraviolet and infrared right? There are also two colors, red-green and blue-yellow, that can’t regularly be perceived by human eyes. Though some people think damage to the corneas will allow you to see those two. They say the reason Manet’s later paintings were in such strange colors is because he damaged his eyes, and could see colors we couldn’t. The Mantis Shrimp can see a whopping 13 colors that we can’t.

I met Denny in art school. He was a weird dude, but I’m not the best at making friends, and beggars can’t be choosers. He was nice enough, but he always seemed a little off kilter. At first I thought he was autistic, but that wasn’t quite right. He was just, kinda, strange. He never made eye contact, and if he was outside, he would always be staring the sky. We were both kinda weirdos, so you would think we would be thick as thieves, but I just seem to lack the ability to really “connect” with people.

He would get really passionate talking about art, or philosophy and shit. He used a lot of big words I never understood. I never asked for clarification. Actually, I usually just tuned him out. He talked a lot about colors we can’t see.

I was never meant to be an artist, but Denny was. His paintings could be pretty disturbing though. He once painted a self portrait, but without any eyes. It really gave me the creeps.

We stayed in touch even after I dropped out. He was probably my best friend, which feels odd to say, considering I never really liked him that much.

A few days ago, I got a phone call from him. “I found a new color” he said. I asked what the fuck he was talking about. He told me I had to come over and see it. I told him I was busy, and hung up.

When I tried to call him the nest day, he didn’t answer. Or the next day. I was worried. I still didn’t really give a crap about him, but he was pretty much my only source of companionship. So I went over to his place. I knocked, but got no answer. I had his emergency apartment key, so I let myself in.

Everything in the apartment was the same as it had always been. The shitty TV, the Picasso prints on the wall, the lumpy couch. Denny wasn’t there though. I checked the bathroom: empty. Kitchen: empty.

All that was left was the bedroom. Denny wasn’t there either. But there were some odd things. There were two holes in the wall above the bed. They looked like somebody had punched the in. An empty easel sat next to the bed, and lying on the floor, was the frame of a canvas. The small metal waste bin was full of ash. Whatever Denny had painted, had been burnt to nothing. I went back to the living room and sat down on the couch. I thought for a long time. Then, I noticed something between the cushions. It was a sheet of notebook paper. I unfolded it, and I nearly shit myself.

There was a spot of dried paint right in the middle of the sheet. But, it was a color I had never seen. It was a new color. I can’t really describe it. All I can say is that it was a dark color. It made me feel sick to my stomach. It didn’t occur to me how famous I could use the page to become, before I stuffed it down the garbage disposal in disgust. Imagine seeing dog eating its own intestinal tract. That’s what looking at the color felt like. I left and later reported Denny as a missing person.

Ever since then, I keep getting this weird feeling. You know that strange sixth sense we all have? Being able to sense when someone is watching you? I get that feeling all the time.

I have a theory, just bare with me for a sec. If there are colors we can’t see, then there could be smells we can’t smell. Flavors we can’t taste. Sensations we can’t feel. And maybe, just maybe, entire living beings we can’t perceive. And, maybe they didn’t like Denny poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

When I was in the shower this morning, I got that feeling of being watched real bad. When I got out, nobody was there. But, written in the condensation on the mirror, was a message. “Don’t look for him, don’t look for us.”

I wish these things wouldn’t perceive me as a threat. I can’t connect with humans, but maybe I could connect with them. I’m sure there not happy about me spreading this information, but I have to do it to get their attention. Come on guys, you took Denny, you owe me a friend.

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