THE HAZE

• Sharna Leader, Grade 9, Redbank Plains State High School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Through the luscious, emerald green trees, past the sunshine yellow daises on an amber meadow bench, sat a figure. A figure with long chocolate curls cascading down her back, fiery orange tinted eyes glowing like the remains of a fire, splashing her feet in the iridescent, blue stream below her. This was Trystan. She appreciated what others took for granted; colours. She had seen a time without them. A time gloomy and miserable. A time called “The Haze”. Even thinking about that time drained the colour from her world. Yet the colourless void returned once more.
Trystan rose painfully to her feet; the once aesthetic scenery around her, dark and dreary. She glanced meekly towards the town square, where depressed, hostile citizens were rallying outside the central building, fighting and screaming furiously at the almighty Government above them. Their voices, barely audible over the fierce screeches below, whispered regretfully, “The Haze Ages have returned, we’re deeply sorry.”
Chaos erupted throughout the crowd like a rockslide. Bang! A man right of Trystan dropped to the ground. Dead. Guards rushed from in the sidelines, handcuffing the perpetrator and hauling him off into the distance. Clusters of citizens fought all around the town, squaring each other up, throwing punches and kicking feet. A group of males were all standing around a tree, watching intently as another snarled viciously, forcing a chainsaw against it. Trystan stood amongst all the mayhem, surveying her surroundings. The lifeless looking tree was bought to the ground with a dull thud. Men congregated around the log and raised it above their shoulders, running towards the doors at top speeds. Bang! Bash! Thump! Trystan gaped, awestruck, as the doors to the central building collapsed in a pile of debris.
Townspeople scurried hastily carrying weapons and shaking fists as they made their way through the layout of the building hoping to find the mysterious people who had taken away their calming colours. Trystan didn’t want to fight. She just wanted to see again. See the filtered sunlight fall over the meadow, the flaming sunset dip gracefully over the rushing sea. Suddenly, crackle! Pop! Trystan’s eyes burst into their ember orange, sunlight and daises into their canary yellows. She gasped. Was she wishing colours into reality? She closed her eyes tightly and imagined the meadow. Its lime greens and crystalline blues. She opened her eyes and, sure enough, they were all there. Then she thought of the not so stunning colours; ebony blacks and fawn browns. Colours were restored. Tranquillity rested over the town. Trystan had done it. She had mastered the ways of “The Haze”. Overthrown the Government’s power. For she was special…very special. A special no one could comprehend.