D - Fade to Grey

There was something wrong with Spring that year. It seemed as if
colour was fading from nature. All the blossoms on the trees and the
bushes were grey. The daffodils, dandelions, gorse and crocuses were
pale, as if they had been bleached; and the blue in the sky also seemed
to be fading, like dye that gradually washes away from fabric. Even the
needles of the pine trees and the green of the grass seemed to be
losing it's strength. The land seemed no longer to tell of the joy of
spring, but of sadness, as if it were mourning something.

People who lived close to nature, who had waited all through the long
winter months, began to grow concerned about these strange portents;
and wondered among themselves what it could mean, and if something was
wrong in the world. The scientists for all their knowledge and power
could find no reason, no explanation as to why Spring wasn't as
colourful that year. They tried to calm people's fears, telling them it
was nothing to be alarmed about. That the world was ok and nothing bad
was happening, or going to happen - but even so, there were those who
felt unsettled... for something about this didn't feel right.

***

Mr. Wancerre shone with a commanding grey ethereal light; that drew
Wazzo to him, like a moth to a candle flame. Wazzo felt enchanted by
him -- he was like a beautiful grey angel, both majestic and
wise.

Mr. Wancerre sensing someone else in the room, turned from looking out
of the window, and glanced un-easily at Wazzo, he seemed surprised to
see him stood there. He smiled kindly at him, and moved gracefully
across the room, as if he were levitating -- like a messiah treading
softly upon the air.

"I want to serve you, to help you in your cause." Wazzo said.

"You are tired." Mr. Wancerre said, his voice soothing and calm like a
gentle breeze."Go, return to your quarters, get some rest, and I shall
call you when it is time." He kissed Wazzo softly upon the
forehead.

Wazzo bowed in respect. "Yes master," he said. He had called him
master; was it right to call him master?

***

The colourful crew sat in their base: secret forgotten tunnels, deep
underground beneath the hustle and bustle of the city. They were all
growing concerned for the well-being of Wazzo and Sandy, it had been
well over two weeks since they had last seen or heard from them. The
police had begun searching for them both, but there was no news, and
people's hearts grew heavy. Where had they gone?

The colourful crew feared the worst. They sat there forlorn and bleak,
biting their nails, anxious, like dogs sat waiting at home. Without
Wazzo's guidance they felt lost, alone, afraid. They knew if he was
gone for good, if he wasn't coming back, then it would be up to them to
carry on the fight for colour. That would be what Wazzo would have
wanted.

One of them: Yad. A chunky, tough lad with spikey forest green hair,
spoke out, feeling he could no longer bear this restlessness. "We can't
sit here and wait for him to return. Have we not heard the stories, the
rumours, have we not seen it for ourselves, with our own eyes. The
colour fades from our world - the daffodils and dandelions are no
longer yellow, the blossoms are grey, the sky fades, and the grass is
beginning to lose it's strength. We can't sit here and let this happen,
we must carry on the fight for colour - it's what Wazzo would have
wanted."

The others looked at him nervously.

"But maybe the reason colour fades from the world is because Wazzo is
gone." Backaa said: a tall grim looking youth, with long bushy purple
sideburns and messy purple hair. " He had the power you see, the mojo,
the vibe that could lead us. Anyone who met him could tell you that, he
had the rainbow in him. He was colour incarnate man. But none of us
here have anything like the same rhythm that he had. It's
hopeless..."

"But he taught us to find the rainbow in us too... " said Jojo: a short
girl, dressed in multi-coloured clothes, and bright pink hair.

Everyone in the room looked at her suddenly in surprise, for she seldom
spoke, and her words were wise, and filled them with hope.

"It's in us all, " she said.

***

Wazzo stared at himself in the mirror, his face was becoming covered
now in the grey mushrooms. They had also begun to sprout on his neck
and shoulders. He felt like something in him was dieing the more they
grew, but he struggled hard to remember. Everytime he seemed to get
close to recalling what it was, his mind went foggy and he began to
feel bewildered, stupified - lost.... his memories seeming far far away
on some distant mental shore that he couldn't seem to reach, no matter
how much he concentrated.

The tide was taking him away from there... but something kept calling
him back, someone - someone who tugged at his heart....

***

Sandy lay on her back on the bed, and stared at the grey ceiling of her
room; trying hard to get the memory of Wazzo and the mushrooms out of
her mind. She hadn't meant to hurt him like that, or appear to be so
cold. She loved him. It was just he looked so horrific, so frightening.
But it wasn't just the mushrooms growing out of him that had troubled
her. He seemed not to be the Wazzo she knew at all, but a fragment of
him, a stranger. It was like the fire had gone out from within him. And
his face, the parts of it she could see which weren't yet covered in
mushrooms, seemed to be pale and un-animated; the blue in his eyes was
fading, and she had noticed his voice had lost it's rhythm and
rhyme.

She knew Mr. Wancerre had done something evil to him, but she did not
know how she could help him be free of it. She felt powerless, locked
up in her cell. She loved him, knew she must stand by him, help him
find a way out. Whatever was wrong with him, however far away he
seemed. She wanted to be with him. Sandy had to get out of there, but
she did not know how she could escape this room; or what terrible
affliction, curse or unwholesome spell had been put on Wazzo, or, how
it could be cured. All she knew was she loved him, and perhaps the
power of her love for him, could heal him.

She had to find some way to reach him; for she grew afraid that if she
didn't, he may be lost forever. She must not be passive anymore, all
her life she had been passive, afraid of action and change, cowering
from it, preferring always the easy option; but not now, no, now she
must make a stand and fight, fight for him and all that she believed
in. She had to believe that love was stronger than this evil.

***

The others looked at Jojo with wonder, they were surprised to hear her
speak, and at how strong her words were, and something about the way
she spoke reminded them of Wazzo. They all looked at one another and
nodded, muttered among themselves and agreed.

Then Yad spoke up finally and said:

"None of us knows why colour is fading from our world; but Wazzo would
not want us to sit here idle and let the colour drain from everything.
We must carry on the fight... but we need someone strong and wise to
lead us -Jojo, will you do it?"

Jojo went silent for a moment, as if troubled by what they asked of
her, for it was a heavy burden to bear, and a great responsibility;
after a time and with a serious expression on her face, she said. "Aye,
I will do it, though I do it reluctantly, and I feel that you Yad,
would maybe make a better leader than me; and if something should
happen, and I cannot finish the race, then you must take my
place."

"What do you propose we do then Jojo?" Bakaa asked, "What's the
plan?"

"I think it strange that Wazzo and Sandy disappeared at the same time,
" she said thoughtfully. "And since their disappearance, the colour in
our world has begun to fade; and in this disturbing puzzle I sense foul
play. I think we must search for Wazzo and Sandy, make this our main
priority. I think if we put all our efforts and our resources into
finding them, then we will be fighting for colour and all we believe in
- for it is all connected... but I cannot yet see how."

"So be it!" Yad said in a strong voice. "Let the search for Wazzo and
Sandy begin!"

To which everyone in the room cheered and hooted... for they were all
desperate for some action now, relieved at last to have come to some
decision, some momentum; to be leaving the underground tunnels and the
stagnating vibe behind - for it is not good for warriors to sit idle
and worry about things.

***

Wazzo sat in his room clutching his knees to his chest, staring at the
blank wall. He tryed so hard to recall his past, but he had no memory
of his friends or family, or anything that had transpired before,
however hard he tryed, he found strangely he could no longer
remember...

... yet something tugged at his heart... something would not let him go
- someone called to him from far away.

But he struggled to remember who or what it was -- felt himself drift
drift drift away from memory, like it was all on an island he was
leaving behind; around him there was just a grey empty ocean; and
before him on the horizon loomed a vast continent he would help to
build: a monotone place, a place without colour. A place where he felt
himself being pulled, drawn; like a piece of iron filing to a
magnet.

And there on the shore stood Mr. Wancerre, the grey messiah, waiting
for him; with his arms outstretched, ready to embrace him -- the one
who would show him and everybody else in the world a better way.

Wazzo's eyes grew heavier and heavier... till he submerged finally into
unwake; tumbled deep into sleep and forgetfullness, and as he did, he
whispered softly: "mast..er"

to be continued...