Thomas Charles Henry

Author’s note

My first thought upon seeing Sandra Crook’s stunning photograph was “Wow! That’s so beautiful and blue!” My second thought was “No. Blue doesn’t exist.” ‘Blue’ just seemed too simple a description for the vibrancy and life contained within the image. An idea for a story then germinated where a non-binary character (Indigo) needs to feel ‘seen’ by their friend (the narrator), and is frustrated by their friend’s inability to describe things with passion or honesty. Both characters are ones I have been working on recently for a fantasy story I hope to be able to tell one day. I do not know if the name ‘Indigo’ will stick. I used it as a playful nod to the character ‘Blue’ from Simon vs The Homosapien Agenda by Becky Albertalli (because ‘Blue’ very much does exist).

Sometimes, the stories or poems I write for Friday Fictioneers come really easily. Other times, they do not. This week proved exceptionally difficult and I ended up rewriting my story three times. We’re talking hours of work for 300 words (many of which are the same). I still do not know which version I prefer. Honestly, I find each of them a little underwhelming. I guess I am both Indigo and the narrator in that regard. Anyway, I offer all three up for your reading (dis)pleasure. Enjoy! Or don’t.

Shade One

“Please,” Indigo said, exasperated. “Don’t just say ‘blue’. Blue doesn’t exist. Nothing can without context. Blue can be midnight or midday; a dirty joke or profound grief; glacial ice or the flame’s hottest point. The words we choose hold power. They reveal our truth. Observe the scene. Tell me what you see.”

I tried, embarrassed. My words felt clumsy and vulnerable: hundreds of tiny naked beings tumbling from my mouth, into the world. Emancipated. Unretrievable.

When I finished, Indigo’s eyes were wet; their soul clutched in anticipation.

“Now, tell me what you see when you look at me,” they said.

Shade Two

“Blue doesn’t exist,” Indigo groaned. “Not without context. Don’t describe the scene perfunctorily. Tell me what you see.”

Embarrassed words tripped over each other as they escaped my mouth. The city’s reflected lights were a cardiogram that caused my own pulse to quicken. The calm sky and soft clouds: salvation, forever out of reach. The brooding water: temptation, so close I could, wanted to, dip a toe and risk rousing what lurked there.

Indigo’s eyes were wet. Their breath held.

“Now, tell me what you see when you look at me,” they said.

“Blue doesn’t exist. My world is Indigo.”

Shade Three

Indigo leaned against me as we surveyed the slumbering town.

“Remember the description game we’d play?” I asked. 

“You were so bad,” they mocked. “’The sky is…blue.’”

“You’d say: ‘Blue doesn’t exist!’”

“It doesn’t! Not without context. Think! Blue can be midnight or midday; glacial ice or the flame’s hottest point; a dirty joke or profound grief…” they paused, then: “What do you see when you look at me?”

“It’s not ‘when I look at you’. It’s when I look at everything else. Because blue doesn’t exist. Nor does any other colour. My entire world is painted shades of Indigo.”

All three stories were written in response to Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-word writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  I submitted ‘Shade One’ and titled it ‘Indigo’. Come and play along!