KING A OR

Zion Brown

Blue claimed the face of Water.

Green claimed that of Spring, Orange and yellow fought for Stars.

Purple settled proudly into Royalty, While White delicately took on Snow

And Black embraced Night.

So, by default, someone had to be the one to suffer.

The exiled.

The one who’d only ever grow to know carnage as a lullaby.

Red.

Then, Red was Brick.

Hands roughened by war’s jagged edges, by the plight of sufferers

Heart hardened by the infinite mantle it took up, tyrannical towards its older, virtuous being Forced to abandon its quiet, rich reveries of things pleasant and sweet to the mind.

Then, Red was Rust.

Decaying and degrading and devolving.

A product of too much time and even more plentiful neglect. Its touch scarring, coldly and unashamedly lethal.

Then, Red was Lava.

Searing and unbounded, its only goal self-satisfaction.

Illuminated its own destruction with a captivating, undiluted fury. Plowed over the ruins it made, all to eagerly and hungrily do it again.

Then, Only then, Red was Blood.

Sunny Ajitabh

I met the girl of my dreams once.

She didn’t belong in my reality, that much I could tell. She had the consistency of a memory, with her skin only a blur of moonlight, her eyes mere blinks of ocean blue, her hair just strokes of blazing fire. In my unconscious state, her smile was the only thing in focus; her lips were a stark red, brilliant against the haze, and each glance pierced my heart in a way that sent me into bliss. I could have bled out and wouldn’t even have noticed. I could stare at her smile forever.

I wish I could have. I wish I could stay for eternity, with nothing but her striking smile melting my fears and her laughter tickling my ears. I wish I could hold her heart in my hand; I wish she could hold mine in hers.

But she was intangible to me. I want to believe I really held her fingers between mine and felt her hair against my cheek and felt her soul under her skin. But I know better.

I was real. She was just a dream.