One Perfect Shade of Blue
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One Perfect Shade of Blue
Cyan
by Jorofrarie
The world was dimming.
That was the first thing that I realised as I lay there.
Throughout my whole life I had kept track of the colours. They were always so amazing, and brought a smile to my face every single time that I thought about them.
But not this time.
This time the colours were fading, the once vibrant greens turning grey, the yellows of the flowers changing. And it made me sad.
I was dimly aware of a shouting noise, but it couldn't get in through my thick head. Everypony had always said that I had trouble hearing sometimes, probably because I talked so much. There were a lot of things that my best-est friends thought about me.
I once had a pony chew on my hair to see if it actually was cotton candy.
But now even that was fading. I could see one strand of my frizzy hair sticking over my forehead, and it was dulling.
But pink wasn't my favourite colour.
There was that shouting again, but it didn't really seen that important to me, I was tired and lying down was comfortable. Although I could've picked a better thing to sleep on, rocks aren't the best mattresses.
I can remember this one time, where I accidentally fell asleep on top of a cake. Of course the customers weren't that impressed, but it had to be one of the best naps that I have ever had. And that includes the time I tried to sleep on a cloud. Although that probably doesn't count, considering I fell asleep in the air and went straight through the surface.
Memories.
They are the only things that I have at the moment. They keep me a little warn when I feel cold. And feel oh so very cold right now. I hadn't felt this cold since Auntie Pie dumped water over my head to wake me up on the farm.
I never liked the farm. It didn't have colours. There was no happiness to be had, only grey and dull and bland. And not bland like when a muffin tastes bland, but bland like when there isn't even a muffin at all.
There was a lack of feeling. And then the Rainbow came and made me happy.
I slowly moved my head a bit to the side. The grass tickled my nose, and I almost giggled. But I didn't. It wasn't the right time for laughter.
The yelling was getting louder.
I was faintly aware that I needed to do something, but what?
The grass was once green, but not any more.
Green is a funny colour. It's there to make people feel safe and healthy, and it puts a smile on anyone's face. You look at a tree and see green, instantly knowing that it's healthy. It may not be my favourite colour, but no other will do that. It looks like life.
Is that why there's no green in the grass?
I look up a little.
There's a flower, once coloured bright yellow. Small petals glowing in the colour. It makes me want to laugh. If there was one colour that made you want to laugh more than any other, it would probably be yellow. It's just the funniest. Well, except for pink of course.
I'm looking at this flower, and it was yellow. I'm wondering where the colour went, and it makes me sad. If I could throw a party, I would make sure that it would be all yellow, just to make it up to this one flower that lost its colour.
But it's still not my favourite.
If green was the colour of health, then red would be the opposite.
Almost nothing in Ponyville is red, does that say anything about it? Well, the grass around me is red. It had coated the whole area around me with its tint. Or at least, it had. It's becoming harder and harder to see these colours. But the red is still there, I just can't see it.
Red always had and always will represent pain. Something about it just tells you instinctively that you should stay away. Fluttershy would say something about how animals are red is they're poisonous, but I think that they just like the colour.
Yes, red means pain.
But is that all it means?
On Hearts and Hooves day, red means love. Red is the colour of blood, and the sunset would be nothing without red in the mix. Jam is red, and it goes perfectly with the cupcakes I sometimes make. Hot sauce is red, apples too.
So red can be more than just pain and suffering. It can be beauty and life mixed into one. It can be delicious, and it can make you happy.
But it's still not my favourite.
The shouting is still there.
It's getting hard to lift my head, but I do anyway, taking a glance to my left. A butterfly is perched on one of the dull blades of grass. I can see the faint traces of purple on it. But even that is going away.
Purple is one of the colours that I see both the most and the least of. Yes, Twilight is purple, Spike too, but apart from them what can you name that is purple?
And yet, that butterfly is purple. It makes it seem mysterious. Purple is a colour that is added to other colours to make something beautiful. Take a look at the sunrise. I've already said that there is red, but what do you notice behind the red? The purple weaving into it, enhancing it. Twilight would have to be a key example. Without her my life would be a little less. Not bad, just less.
I'm just glad that I had the time to throw her some parties.
And even as I'm thinking, the purple is fading away, leaving nothing but a grey butterfly. I feel sad seeing that colour go. I never see very much of it, and that makes me sad. I think that was the last time that I would ever see purple.
I guess that told you would purple meant huh? Purple was mysterious. It was rare. It was important. You hardly ever saw purple without seeing something else with it. It was added to others to amaze. Purple was a helper.
Purple was magic.
The shouting is still there.
There aren't many colours left to see now. My head is facing left, lying on the ground, and a stray hair is falling across my face. I know that it was pink, but all I can see is a grey.
I'd always loved pink. The moment you saw pink you were happy. It was just a happy colour. Pink only ever wanted to see you smile. I'd always tried to make my parties pink, and I was even more pink than pink.
Pink is a smart colour, it knows when you're happy. When I lived on the farm I was pink, but I wasn't pink. The Rainbow showed me that.
So I guess pink is laughter. It tells you a story of a life lived, and a life loved. It tells you of what has, and could've been. It makes you happy.
Pink was me.
I can only regret that I never noticed these amazing colours before now. Bet even all of these aren't my favourite.
The shouting is getting louder now. I can feel hoofbeats through the ground. They're strong and confident, but the voice sounds uncertain and panicky.
I feel a pressure on my shoulder. A hoof.
It grabs me and turns my head, facing upwards. I can see a face. A wonderful, blue face. It's trying to say something to me, and I wish I could answer. I can't even understand it, it sounds like it's travelling through water to get to me.
But I can see the face, and I can see what lies behind it.
The sky, the beautiful sky.
I had never seen the sky like this before, and it took what was left of my breath away. It beats everything. The healthy green that sits in the landscape. The living red, flowing through our hearts and minds, and flowing out onto the grass around me. The funny yellow, seen in the funny flowers, and beautiful butterflies. The mysterious purple, silent and regal, staying in the shadows, waiting to help.
The amazing pink, that lives with me, that only wants to see others happy.
None of them can compare to the deep blue of the sky. It comes in a million tones, each slightly different to the last. And each more beautiful than the one before.
But there is one tone that is better than all the rest.
Blue is amazing. It can mean anything. It can tell you that something is calm. The night sky was never truly black, only the deepest navy that bathes the countryside. It tells all creatures that the time for sleep has come. It lets you rest, without danger or threat.
The sea in the morning, peaceful beyond belief. It flows gently, rocking the boats tied to the jetties, swaying in the current. The fish that lazily swim in it. It was a beautiful blue, but not not the best.
Blue could mean life as well. Water at its simplest is needed to survive, and when someone is thirsty, they look for something blue.
Blue is the source of all life.
It can also mean happiness. A young colt, just newly born, is wrapped up in a blue cloth. Blue can mean life itself. It can mean re-birth and continuation. It can show youth.
But that blue still isn't the best blue.
Blue can symbolise peace. A bull is always said to charge at a red cloth, but what about a blue one? Is blue truly that peaceful that it tells even the animals that can't talk that it means no harm?
Poison joke for example. It only wants to play a joke on you. It doesn't want to hurt or maim. All it wants is a laugh. Is that why it chose blue? To say that it means no harm?
But even that is not my favourite shade.
The face is still trying to say something, and all I can do is smile sadly. I don't have much time left, that much is obvious. But for some reason blue is the only colour that I can see in this landscape of grey.
But I smile anyway, even knowing that the rest of the colour is gone.
I smile because my favourite colour is in the face looking at me.
This colour can mean only one thing to me. It tells me that it won't stop at anything to help those that it loves. It tells me that it has endless enthusiasm, and won't ever give up.
It tells me that life can always be good, if you look on the bright side of things.
It is the colour that means the most to me, and I regret more than anything that I never had the chance to say it.
It is the only colour worth seeing any more.
It is the colour of the thing that will stay with me to the end, and possibly even further than that.
It is cyan.
It is the most stubbornly loveable colour in the world. It may not always be agreeable, but it will always be there to help.
It is the colour of Rainbow Dash.
She smiles at me, tears in her eyes, and somehow I know that everything is going to be alright, even as the world slowly becomes dark.
Because she is smiling at me. My Rainbow Dash. My favourite colour.
My one perfect shade of blue.
