Today is June 17th, and that means you only have 13 more days to pre-order the special edition of CHROMOPHOBIA. You can place your order HERE.
Today’s story:
“Tangerine Sky”
by Red Lagoe
Sylvia opened her eyes. The memory of her little sister came to life as a phantom upon canvas. She should paint it. She needed to paint it. To reclaim the color. To memorialize her sister in the last moment she was ever seen.
It was the moment that forced her to grow up. Sylvia had only been fifteen, but if she were watching her sister more closely, Hanna would still be with her.
Another silhouette crept into the depiction in her mind. He took Hanna in his grip and stole her. A pony tail whipped to the side, but she left without a fight. She was so far away. Sylvia couldn’t run fast enough against the tide of boardwalk strollers and bicyclists. The tangerine sky devoured Hanna’s small silhouette forever.
After Hanna was taken, that hideous, monstrosity of a color appeared everywhere. During questioning, an officer peeled a mandarin at his desk nearby. Her eyes gravitated to the color of the fruit against the white cinderblock wall as his nubby fingers dug into the peel. That day, she’d hated the officer who casually thought of food during her tragedy. His wet, sticky fingers—she envisioned as blood-orange injustice clinging to idle hands.
Sylvia gave up oranges. And carrots. She rejected every orange thing. The pumpkin-toned walls of her family kitchen suffocated her so many times, her parents had to repaint them blue. She avoided orange like it was a monster that could swallow up everything she loved.
Not that she allowed herself to love anything anymore.
Her job came first. The rage which fueled her was all there was to live for. After school, she’d studied criminal justice and then became a police officer, doing grunt work for years until finally, she made detective. That’s all she’d ever wanted since August 18, sixteen years ago—to do what the sticky, mandarin-eating man never accomplished. Sylvia would bring down child trafficking rings. She’d hunt them and scour those stains from humanity. In some small way, she’d always hoped to find her sister, but she’d come to terms with the reality years ago.
Painting could aid with processing those imprisoned emotions. Spew the bottled anger.
A knock at her door broke her focus from the canvas.
***
Now… you have less than two weeks left to get a copy of this gorgeous hardcover book!
You can pre-order your hardcover edition of CHROMOPHOBIA HERE.
And, remember…
