Her Green Dress

After his father performs a crazy genetic experiment on him, Tristan Marks finds himself hoping and praying he'll wake up one day and be as fast as his dog, Lenny. One day, he gets his wish...

                “It’s extraordinary he’s not dead.”

                ‘Who said that?’ Tristan wanted to shout, but his mouth refused to move.  In fact, he couldn’t move anything.  His body was stiff, everything sounded so far away.  There was beeping noises, murmuring, and sobbing. 

                “Oh God!” someone wailed.  “My baby!” 

                He wanted to open his eyes, he needed to open his eyes.  Why was his mother crying?  He tried to tell her it was okay, but nothing came out.  And all at once, the distant noises were next to him.

                “Mommy?” Tristan choked back his shock.  He was in a hospital bed, wires were clinging onto his entire body.  His body hurt, everything was stiff and tense.  He moaned, trying desperately to move his fingers.  Panic bellowed through his body as he kept trying to move.

                “I can’t move!” he screeched. 

Francesca snapped her head to her son.  She heard something, he spoke.  The doctor didn’t notice as he continued to bury his head in Tristan’s chart, but she was sure Tristan had said something.

                “Tristan, baby?  It’s mommy,” she said, running to his side.  The doctor finally looked up, but stayed back.  “Baby, wake up.  Mommy needs you to wake up.”

                And he did.


                It was odd.  There colors were off in the room.  His mom looked like someone had drained the color from her body, she was pale and her normally flushed cheeks were washed away.  The green dress he recognized so well was a beige, purple color.  He wondered if he was dreaming as he lifted his trembling hand.  His heart began to race as he tried his best to hold back his tears. 

                “You’re dress is brown.” he whimpered.

                “What sweetie?” she cooed, touching his raised hand.  He was shaking so much.  An overwhelming pit formed in her stomach as she tried to hold his hand steady.  It felt like an earthquake was shaking her hand up.  “No hunny, it’s green.  Remember?”

                “It’s brown.”

                Without a sound, the doctor was standing next to Fran.  He leaned down towards Tristan and opened his squinting eyes.  Francesca jumped up, slamming into the bed table behind her.  Her hands flew up to her heart as she let out an, “Oh!”

                Her son’s beautiful, almond colored eyes that she’d loved so much were a crystal blue.  It wasn’t a normal, sapphire blue like most eyes.  It was like someone plucked a piece of the sky.

              As she leaned closer, she noticed the brown ring that ran around his right iris.  It was thin, but it was definitely there.  The doctor was eyeing her as she got closer to her son’s face.  She yanked her mouth closed, which she hadn’t realized was hanging wide open.

                “Tristan?” her voice was a small gurgle from the back of her throat.  “Can you see mommy?”

                He nodded and raised his trembling hand to touch her silky hair.  “You’re hair isn’t red anymore,” he was surprised by the unusually calm tone that floated out of his mouth. 

                “Hmmm,” the doctor took a step backwards.  It was curious, a case that every doctor in the place would probably want to take a look at.  He grabbed the phone in the room and began dialing numbers.

                Francesca was too locked on the panic rising from her toes to notice the doctor’s phone calls.  She grasped her son’s hand, and then felt his forehead.  He was hot, burning up in fact.  He had a temperature of 103.6, but that didn’t explain his eyes.  Maybe the color spectrum difference was a delusion from the high fever, but still.  She couldn’t stop going from his hands, to his neck and then back to his forehead. 

Tristan didn’t say anything as she her fingers jumped from his hands to his head.  An unusual calmness pumped through his veins and was replaced by pity.  It was a strange feeling to him, he’d never felt it before.  His gut twisted as the pity for his mother grew.  She was so sad and it was all his fault.

“Mommy,” Tristan touched her now golden hair.  “It’s okay.”

The End

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