Colourless (A life's journey through time)

This story is a stand alone. I couldn't see it progressing into a series. I loved writing it and I hope you enjoy it too. It's a story that just developed as I wrote. It's different, but hey, it's what came to me. 

Mental illness is real and people battle it everyday. I think the hardest thing for a patient is for them to keep going through the darkest times. Love and understanding is what is needed, because sometimes, when a person is in a dark place they see nothing else but what's in front of them. So I hope this story will open eyes and hearts. I also hope you just enjoy it! 

Trinity’s on a life journey to discover what life is about. On the way, people show up in her life and teach her new things about her life. Her love life has been an up and down struggle, and she begins to believe that real love doesn’t exist. It is only when she goes through her darkest moment, does she realise that love had always been around. She just had to open her eyes and see. Her breakdown gives her a chance to become the beautiful person she already is.

Excerpt

The beginning of time

There was no name at the beginning. Things worked differently. There was no gender, no colour at the beginning, things were just perfect. Trinity, that’s what she’d decided. She’d chosen to be a girl. She had hand picked her mother, a mother who smoked and drank herself to a stupor. Her father had been like a thief in the night. It was his purpose to fuck Trinity’s mother and bring her into existence. Trinity had it all planned. She understood why she wanted to do it all.

‘Are you sure you want to go to this place, be human and experience it all?’ The voice had asked.

‘Yes I do. There is something so wonderful about it all.’

‘How do you know it’s wonderful?’ asked the voice.

‘Because when I look at their faces.’ Trinity had watched the human race for a while. She’d studied them, she’d noticed that they had things she didn’t understand.

‘What is it about their faces?’

‘There is this light that shines from each one of them. Sometimes they don’t see it, sometimes they do. I want to experience that. I want to be that. I want that human experience.’

The voice was quiet. Trinity, even though that wasn’t her name yet, enjoyed the silence.

‘What about this life?’ asked the voice.

‘This life is eternal. I can always return, but that life. That life is limited. It’s governed by time. It is only for a period. So for that short period, I want to discover.’

‘What do you think you’ll discover? What do you think this glow on their faces is?’ asked the voice.

‘I think it’s love, I think it’s what we have and feel all our lives, but I think that if we choose to have this experience, we’ll understand it deeper than we’ve ever understood it.’

‘Very well, if that is what you wish.’

‘It is.’

‘You realise that when you reach that place, that place where people seem to be glowing, you’ll have no recollection of who you are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean the moment you step onto earth, you will forget who you are.’

‘You mean I won’t remember I came from source?’

‘You may or you might not. But…’

‘But what?’

‘You’ve chosen your path.’

‘I have.’

Trinity had chosen the path she would take to experience this thing called life in a human body. On the way she’d put things in her way.

‘I will remember who I am, I’ve put signposts, I have a map.’

‘You will, how?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘I see.’

‘I know what I’m doing. I know why I’m choosing what I’m choosing. This human experience, I want to experience it to the fullest.’

There was silence again. Silence was always welcome. It was never uncomfortable. It allowed processes to unfold on their own. It was a good thing.

‘Okay. Whenever you’re ready,’ said the voice.

Trinity knew it was time.  Even though there was no time in the world in which she came from, there was time where she was going. Her mother was in labour. Soon all things would be labelled. She’d be labelled Trinity Philips, a girl.  She’d have dark chocolate skin, her hair would be kinky and difficult to deal with. Her nose would be larger than normal. As she’d got older, her hips would turn outwards and be bigger than usual. She’d see magazines and wonder what went wrong. She’d wonder why she didn’t look like the pretty women on television, or magazines. She’d see what was labelled pretty at school, in town…it would be all around her. Yes all these labels would be pasted onto her, and because she’d forget who she was, she’d live up to the labels she been given.

‘I’m ready.’

And just like that there was darkness. There was resistance. Something was happening, but she didn’t know what. The baby was coming. The baby didn’t know who it was. It was just in the womb of a woman who didn’t want it. The struggle was intense; it took a long while until finally there was bright light. The baby cried. It felt cold, it felt something it couldn’t understand. It heard sounds, it felt movement. It was warm, something was placed on it. Someone screamed ‘It’s a girl!’ But there was nothing after that.

‘Do you want to name her before we take her?’ asked the social worker.

The woman looked at the baby like it was a sack of oranges.

‘Trinity,’ she blurted.

‘Any reason?’ The social worker was interested.

The woman shrugged.

‘Okay then. Trinity Philips, welcome little lady.’

The baby was taken away. 

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