Another captive has arrived but I could care less. All this tension of seeing who it is and running to the door to meet them, introductions only to find yet another with a color name, it's enough to drive anyone batty. I slowly slip away from the group, tired of all this noise and excitement, it's never been something I enjoyed.
I come from a large family, the oldest child of seven, ever since I was twelve years old I've needed my space, needed a place where I could go to sit and think and just relax. While the others are greeting the newest member of our little band, another kid, I think he said his name was Azurite Indigo, I grab my pack and slip out of the room.
The house is huge I peek into a couple rooms to see a living room, kitchen and TV room all void of decoration and then find a master staircase. I climb the stairs and peek into a couple rooms all of them bedrooms. "Orange, violet, indigo, yellow" I mutter to myself, "just like our names." I push open a couple more rooms to find a green and red room which tells me that more are to come.
Finally I find the blue room, all the way at the end of the hall convenietly located away from the rest. Although I love the location, it makes me uneasy to think that who ever brought us knew me well enough to seperate me from the rest.
I go inside and throw my bag down on a blue chair inside the door. The room is covered in art from some of my favorite artists, the desk perfectly organized, an easel is set up by the window and I walk over to it. The very best oil paints are on the table next to it. I brush my fingers across the paint, trying to remember the last time I held a paint brush.
It would have been years ago, four at least, me and my sister had probably ventured out into the woods and she had suggested I paint such and such and I had. I shook my head clear of the memory, thinking of it only makes me miss her more. I just want to go home.
I look out the window and my breath catches at the sight. It's beautiful, absolutly breathtaking. I wonder if anyone else has this type of view from their rooms. "Listen to me," I scold myself, "already thinking of this place as home." I shake my head in disgust and turn to leave.
I grab my bag on my way out and close the door angrily behind me, heading back down the stairs to join the others. I can hear them talking and can tell that someone else has arrived. "Who will it be?" I ask no one in particular, "Green or Red?"