Real Colours

By: Audrey Yeung

Lyla sat on the blue sofa in the doctor’s office, her mom on one side, and the doctor in front of her, holding a stack of papers.

“How about this tree? What colour is it?” asked the doctor, displaying a placard with an image of an evergreen tree.

“Yellow,” Lyla replied. She had sat there for twenty minutes already, answering questions about the colours of various things. The doctor held up another card with a bright yellow banana.

“Blue,” Lyla stated blandly.

“Last one, ok?” the doctor said to the five-year-old. He showed an image of an orange.

“Green,”

“Is she colour-blind?” her mother asked nervously. She knew Lyla probably wasn’t colour-blind, but she was still hopeful. The doctor squared up the placards and looked at Lyla.

“It’s curious. She is not colour-blind. The colours she sees are not coherent. They’re random. I don’t understand, it’s a very unique case.”

Everything else about the doctor’s appointment seemed blurry in Lyla’s memory.

At nine years old, Lyla had learnt to memorise the “right” colours. The apple is red. The elephant is grey. The lemon is blue. No, not blue. The lemon is yellow. Sometimes her head ached trying to think of the right colour.

When she was twelve, Lyla attended the Willow Peak Middle School. Her class was on a field trip to Ship’s Rock. It was a small island with several tall boulders, once inhabited by pirates, the reason for the name of the island.

The tallest boulder stood out to Lyla. Because there was a wooden door attached to it.

“What’s that?” Lyla asked, pointing to the door. The teacher turned at looked at the boulder blankly.

“That is a rock,” she said slowly. The teacher was trying to be sensitive toward Lyla’s “condition”.

“I know,” Lyla replied. “I’m talking about the door. Where does it lead?” a few of her classmates turned to see and looked at Lyla curiously.

“Lyla, there is no door. Do you need to lie down for a bit?” the teacher said concerned.

“No, I’m fine. I was just probably daydreaming or something.” Lyla said. She felt confused and alone.

“Alright, class, please find a place to sit and eat your lunch.” her teacher announced. Lyla’s classmates walked around the island to find a patch of grass to sit down on while Lyla slipped back to the mysterious door. She twisted the cold knob and peered inside. A beautiful scenery filled the space. Lyla stepped through the door in bewilderment, making sure no one was watching her. There were grassy plains for as far as Lyla could see, fluffy clouds floating in the air, and the faint sound of rushing water. Everything was in vivid colour. Bright orange skies and light purple blades of grass stretched through the horizon.

Woah. Amazing. Lyla thought.

“Who are you?” a deep voice asked sternly. Lyla swivelled and found a tall man in a light coloured tunic looking at her. He had salt-and-pepper hair and held a long golden staff.

“I repeat, who are you?” he said unsmiling.

“I’m Lyla,” Lyla replied cautiously. “And who are you?”

“State your occupation and residence.” the man said, ignoring Lyla.

“Um, I don’t really have an occupation. I’m a student, I guess? At Willow Peak Middle School. And I live in Willow Hills. Who are you again?”

“Willow… Hills?” the man repeated. His eyebrows raised. “I am the Gatekeeper.” Lyla glanced at the door.

“Not much of a gate,” she mumbled.

“Where did you come from?” the Gatekeeper asked.

“The door,” replied Lyla, raising her own eyebrows.

“You’re from out there. How is that possible?” he said softly to himself.

“Where am I?” the Gatekeeper ignored her and started pacing.

“Where am I? What is this place?” Lyla repeated.

“You’re from the other world. You are in the Isle of the Keler. You need to get back.” the Gatekeeper said quietly. “No, your memory has to be erased first. Then you can leave.”

Lyla backed away, startled at the fact that her memory was going to be erased. The Gatekeeper pointed his staff at the door and it disappeared. He shifted his position so the staff pointed at Lyla.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this. It’s a precaution, no one outside this world can know it exists.”

“Stop! I… I think I belong here…” Lyla cried. Something about this world felt somehow natural to her. Something. The Gatekeeper lowered his staff and walked closer.

“Put out your hands,” he instructed. Lyla put out her hands tentatively. The Gatekeeper waved his staff slowly around Lyla’s hands. He looked at her incredulously.

“Everyone here has magic. You have magic in your blood, Lyla. Who are your parents?”

“They can’t be magic. My mom isn’t, at least. My dad…well, I don’t know much about him.” Lyla replied.

“He must have magic in his blood. There’s no other explanation,” the Gatekeeper said. “Travel to the Fairy County. Find someone there to help you. I cannot leave this field,” he used his staff to direct a cloud in front of Lyla.

“Wait, all people here are magic? Everyone?” she asked. Lyla felt no hesitation to stay in the Isle of Keler; she always felt alone back home. Sure, she would miss her mom, but this is where she felt she really belonged.

“Yes. Our eyes are more complex than regular humans. They are conditioned to see more because of the colours of the Isle. This allows us to practise magic,” the Gatekeeper explained. “Hop on. It’ll take you to the Fairy County. You can train and practise magic there. Be with others like you.” he gestured to the cloud.

At that moment, Lyla’s confidence started to deteriorate. Was she ready to leave her life? To leave everything she knew? Her mother? But everything she dreamed of was here. To have friends. To fit in with people like her. Where was her future?

Lyla placed her hand on the cloud, surprised it was rather solid. She climbed on top and looked at the door.

“Ready?” the Gatekeeper asked.

“Um,” Lyla said. She closed her eyes and thought. She’d made her decision. “Yes. I’m ready.”

The Gatekeeper smiled and Lyla drifted away on the cloud. She found that she could control the speed of the cloud by leaning forward and backwards, and when she sped up, the cool wind brushed against her face, the brilliant colours marvelled all around her, and she’d never felt happier.

Yes, this was where she belonged.