Sugarcane and Indigo

Purple Haze

I was in a world dripping at the seams with purple. All the shades that you could ever imagine were swirling beneath my feet like a psychedelic ocean. The further I walked the deeper I waded in the purple. It clung to my skin like mud, coating my waist and chest and arms in raspberry, violet, lavender, and plum. The air tasted like paint fumes and wine; it burned my nose and scraped my throat raw.

I didn't know why but I knew that I had to keep moving forward. Something - someone - was waiting for me and I needed to hurry along.

There were wisteria clouds swirling above my head in the far off distance of the atmosphere with heather colored stars poking out from their depths. The foam that bubbled in my wake rose up from the water a mauve color.

The further I pressed forward, the deeper the water became till I forced to begin swimming. The splashes of waves that rose from my movements caused water to flood into my mouth, causing me to sputter and spit.

Logically, I knew I was dreaming but something told me that if I died here I'd still be just as dead.

I swam and swam and swam till my arms felt like they had hundred pound weights attached to them and I was at risk of drowning. I started lagging and sinking further and further down into the cascading waves forcing me to work harder and harder to pull myself back up into the air.

I knew I was about to drown.

I knew it like I knew my name was Lavender. I took one last deep, gasping breath to satisfy my lungs before I let the waves pull me down into their warm, lilac depths. My hand was stretched outwards towards the surface like prayer alone could save me from this tragedy.

Ain't no God I knew didn't deal in no tragedy.

Already the crushing weight of the purple water was knocking against my lungs, demanding entry. I lasted as long as I could before finally I opened my mouth, desperate for air and allowed the water in.

I was drowning.

This I knew like I knew that I regretted never fully being with Indigo. I let my eyes close and allowed my mind to slowly drift off. Maybe death would be kinder than life.

Right as I felt my soul packing its bags in preparation to leave, I felt a hand reach down through the water and grasp my wrist. I barely had time to start opening my eyes before I was ripped upwards through the water. I was yanked up towards the surface till finally my head broke water. I gasped lungful after lungful of air greedily. Never had anything tasted as sweet. I was heaved on board something solid but I was too lightheaded from my near-death experience to take in my surroundings just yet.

The purple paint-like water clung to my eyes, burning it. I swiped desperately trying to clear my eyes, still gasping for air as I did so. My hair clung to my skin and face, also dripping with the purple liquid. Finally, finally I was able to clear my vision. I blinked my eyes rapidly in the now burning orchid color light.

I was able to see clearly enough to know I was lying on the deck of a ship. I looked around and saw that is modeled after one of those ancient Epyptian ships that Cleopatria was always depicted as being on. It was built out of a sandy colored wood, complete with billowing white sails and six oars on each side. No one was manning it though. I stood and looked around me, trying to figure out what was happening. Where was I?

"You're probably wondering why you're here, little mama," a voice rang out from down the deck.

I whirled around and sitting on a humble throne was a man. He was leaning back against the backrest, letting his long, skinny legs stretch out before him. When I met his gaze he quirked one corner of his lips up into a devilish smirk.

"Wasn't what you were expecting?" he drawled out in question.

I didn't say anything back; I was too caught up in trying to place his features. He looked so familiar.

He had bottomless, shiny black eyes shaped like almonds that on any other face would've been charming but on his had a way of putting you on the edge of your seat. To be fair, any one of his features were beautiful - his sloping cheekbones, his cupid-bow lips, his arched brows, his slender chin - but that was the mechanics of his face, each part coming together perfectly, playing off the negative space of one another like the parts of a story to form the appearance of aristocracy and beauty. But if you took stock of any one feature too long you'd see the barbarity, the trick, that made up the lines of the feature and you'd be left with the unsettling feeling that you'd somehow fallen right into his trap.

"Who - who are you?" I stuttered out.

He tsked and shook his head, his gravity-defying curls shaking on top of his head.

"That is a boring question - a boring story. There's so many more interesting ones to tell."

I straightened up to my full height in a show of defiance. "Who are you?" I asked again.

He waved the question off again. "I can tell you all the stories there are, mama. Every last one, big and small, terrible and great, known and hidden. And you really want my story?"

I didn't say anything, just stared him down, willing him to answer.

He sighed and craned his neck backwards to look behind his throne. "We have our work cut out with this one, don't we, child?"

I was frowning in confusion when I saw her.

She came around the back of the throne where she'd been hidden, her small steps echoing in the dreamscape.

"Violet?" I gasped in disbelief.

She was exactly as I remembered her, right down to the braids. She had the same dark eyes brimming with laughter, though they were a little more muted now.

"Hi, Lavender," She whispered shyly.

"How - what - how are you here?" I stuttered out.

She frowned for a second then shrugged, "I never went anywhere."

I didn't say anything, just stared at the lines of her face. She was untouched by age, unmarked by the brutality that I was sure had harmed her. She was still the same seven year old girl I remembered. Still shuffled wherever she stood like she was itching to run.

After a second she started fidgeting. "Are you mad that I'm here?"

I didn't say anything - couldn't say anything.

"I tried to do good," she hurried on to say, "I brought Indigo back to you."

Indigo's name was like a bell going off, it reminded me that if this was real and not just some fever dream then there were other questions I should be asking.

"Who hurt you?" I got out desperately, striding forward - still dripping with purple - to grasp her shoulders in my hands.

She whimpered and glanced at the man besides her. "I'm not supposed to say, not yet. Otherwise it won't work."

"What won't work?" I demanded, shaking her just a little. "What won't work?"

The man intervened. "It's almost time for you to go, little mama."

"NO!" I cried out desperately. I couldn't go, not when I was so close!

The man laughed a light trickling laugh. "You have to go, love. Otherwise you'll be stuck here with us and we can't have that."

I felt the world slipping away from me, like water running through fingers.
"NO!" I screamed again, "NO!"

"Find Zula Ryland," the man called out after me as I was ripped away, "Zula Ryland's important."

And just like that I woke up with Indigo carrying me inside his house from the garden. The name ringing in my ears like I had just heard it be said.

If you liked this chapter remember to vote, add, or comment. Honestly guys, thank you so much for reading my book. It means a lot! And I love reading your comments, they always make my day. What did you think of this chapter? Who do you think the man is? Do you think the dream was real? What do you think is going to happen?