All of the Colors

The body that lay outside was blue. The inside of the cabin was blue as well. Not literally blue, of course. Standard log cabin, brown, with a lit fireplace. Half empty bottle on a wooden table. But the room felt blue.

The man inside the cabin thought color was a funny thing. The snow falling outside was as white as anything you’d ever see, as was the ice. But white, the man knew, was not a color. It was a shade. Comprised of all hues on the color spectrum.

Color itself is simply light reflected back into our own eyes. It is perceived strictly through our sense of vision. But to say that a room feels blue would not sound odd to anyone. They would know exactly what was meant by the statement. Perhaps it’s not color that exists at all but merely our perception of it.

That was true of all things, the man supposed. Including the dead guy outside. The red and orange spikes danced in the fireplace as he pondered this. If no one found him, maybe he never existed. The man took another drink which only affirmed his thoughts. Guilty of fratricide, no. How could he be guilty of killing a man that never existed? He chuckled nervously.

The man stood grabbing his shovel. He walked past the pool of red on his way out the door. He dragged the blue body out into the white storm, to be lost forever among all of the colors.