The Butterfly.

A

I slowly rose, trembling. There were so many voices, all saying different things. I tried to pick out a few but most sounded foreign or too far to reach.

What's your favorite color? 

A small voice stood out from the others. Red, Martin would say. And Rosie would definitely say teal. But I could never answer. If I had to, I would respond with gray, a mix of the only colors of the world. 

The small voice faded away, melting into the rest. I shook even more now. I slowly moved, sitting down on the wood. 

Sighing, I mumbled, "If I could choose a color, I would choose any of them, just to see any one of them but black and white." 

But what if you could see? Another voice sounded next to me.

"Is someone there?" I asked quietly.

I heard no answer, I waited. That voice was what I needed. I thought of calling out again, but I did not. Patience.

A warmer sensation filled my skull, which overwhelmed my former headache.

What would you do, if you could see? It sounded again.

"Anything that I could, and go wherever the wind took me," I quickly respond before the voice could disappear again.

Then the voice didn't respond, even after I waited. So I waited some more. I heard the breeze make its way down the hall and sway the curtains. Yet I was still waiting for an answer. 

I felt a slight chill on my back as I laid down on the cold wood. Then, whoosh.

A butterfly once said, "Where ever you shall go, I follow. No place with you shall be without me."

The wind began roaring in my ears, and there was brightness. I felt myself lifted from the wood. It became chaotic, but then it stopped. The world wasn't tilting, and there was only a soft silence.

I was gently lowered back down to the ground to feel that it was not wood anymore. The ground was lumpy and had strands of grass. The air felt humid as it traveled towards my lungs. The brightness that came to me before began fading into other things. 

And that was when I realized, those things were colors.