ocular rewritten

daily twenty five . color symbolization . 512 words

( side note: the characters live in a place where their hair shows their feelings ahaha — kind of like mood rings in a way)

We laughed and chatted all night long, spending the majority of the time gasping at the beautiful sky as the sun lowered itself into another country and the moon rose to put on a show for us, the stars twinkling like ballet dancers at a performance. I grin as I wave goodbye to some of my closest friends while they exit my apartment. “Thanks again for the wonderful party,” one of them says, pushing her long orange hair from off of her shoulders. “Ah no worries,” I answer, empty boxes of pizza in my hands. After everyone has left, I begin cleaning up. In about a half hour, I finally finish throwing away trash and wiping off the countertops. I sit at the table and sigh. “What a fun night,” I whisper to myself.
Ring Ring. Ring Ring. My phone vibrates against my leg. I pull it out of my pocket to answer, and wish to die when I hear what the caller has to say.

The flashbacks come pouring in as I get the call, tears blurring my vision before I can even process the news I’d just received.
“She was in an accident,” the lady had told me. “A three car collision…” my hearing stopped. “roads were too icy… driving fast…” I slammed the phone onto the table, my screen protector completely cracked, the cracks ebbing across the surface like an ugly spiderweb. I cupped my face in my hands, a rush of emotions flooding through me like I’ve never experienced before. “Hello? Are you there?” the voice on the phone asked. “Hello?” I angrily pushed the ‘end call’ button, slicing my fingers on the shards of glass, then throw my phone across the room.

After I finally calm down, I find myself on the ground, wishing I was in the car with her so at least we would have stayed together. My door creaks open, so I quickly wipe away my tears and put on a ‘my mom didn’t die 20 minutes ago and I’m perfectly okay!’ face. I look up to see who entered my dingy apartment, and choke back sobs when I see my father, equally as tearstained as me. His hair, once healthy and white with a tint of yellow, showing his pure and happy attitude, is now shriveled and dark, filled with streaks of sad blues and furious reds. I hadn’t even thought about my hair! I slowly rise and peer into the mirror a couple steps away, then collapse when I see the short, dead strands of hair barely hanging onto my scalp. Its colors are drained, and alongside the blues, grays and blacks mix their way into the already depressing sight. I fall into my father’s arms, desperately wanting to feel the warmth I once received from my now deceased mother. “So you’ve heard,” he croaks. I nod, creating a wet spot on his jacket from my crying. “Now now,” he says, rubbing my back. “It’ll be alright.” I shook my head and looked him in the eyes. “No. No, everything has changed.”