Crimson, Silver, and Black

(Rei C.)

The first time he saw red hair mixed with silver, he killed red and silver both. He wasn�t blamed � ginger and platinum were the enemy and had to die. It was easier than he had thought his first murders would be. The red hair might have belonged to a father-figure and demanded a second chance, explanation, but the blonde hair was the father of a rival and a servant of the darkness. The silver had to die, and the force of hatred killed the silver�s companion in the middle of the Alley, in the beginning of a war. Parchments in the process of being exchanged had been blown apart by the four winds dragged into the earth smoking with the heat of the fire as the force of his hatred ended their lives in ice and the power of his magic froze toes off before encasing bodies in blocks of absenceoftemperature that reflected in apologetic blue eyes and terror-filled gray eyes.

            History was doomed to repeat itself, and red hair blended with silver again, this time in an empty classroom the night before the final stand. He saw it, and he cried, and he killed before he could die in shock and pain and anger. The red hair was supposed to be his, the red hair was supposed to belong to him, the red hair was not fated to be writhing like that under a figure crowned in platinum and screaming another�s name. The pain was expressed in a scream, was not anger but betrayal, and the room exploded in stones, chunks of rock iced over and circling the room in cyclones of wind and air. Red hair caught sparks and burnt before the fire reached the head and the body, red hair dying in fire while silver melted onto the table as the ice in his veins and heart evaporated into nothingness, taken into death with his lover at the same time by the hands of the same element.

And those deaths caused the beginning of the end of a war and those deaths provoked his feelings of betrayal which gave him the endurance to win and those deaths caused the end of the end of the war.

            The next time he saw red hair, it united with red hair, identical in every way, and he saw the beauty of doubled scarlet. The winds told him that nothing was wrong and that their love was meant to be and was covered by the four winds and then the winds laughed and it sounded like mischief.

            Red hair with brown hair promised stability and the earth told him that these two would last and have children with red and brown and chestnut hair. Nothing was wrong, their love was meant to be and was grounded by the earth and then the earth laughed and it sounded like continuation.

            Red hair with yellow hair was wild and fun and exciting and he laughed and jumped and played with red and yellow. Red and yellow were happy and nothing was wrong and their love was meant to be and was energized by fire and then the fire laughed and it sounded like joy.

            Red hair with multi-colored hair balanced and it was racing and sitting and crying and laughing and working and joking. Nothing was wrong, their love was meant to be and was steadied by water and then the water laughed and it sounded like contentment.

            He loved the family of redheads and they loved him back, though he had killed two of their members with the intensity of his emotions and with the might of his magic and with the strength of his world, the three so intertwined that one was inseparable from the other was inseparable from the other was inseparable from the first. They liked him and loved him and sheltered him and fed him, but he was not one of them. They did not understand him, but that was of no concern to him, for he knew he was too different from them. His hair was black, not red, black as the deepest night, black as fear and death and terror, black as the land had been after the worst ravages of war, and black as his own heart, charred from the force of his fire and kept that way by the power of his ice, buried under the weight of his earth by the determination of his wind.

            He knew that there a red missing from the family of redheads that loved him, and had heard from red and brown and yellow that there was a red somewhere swirling into silver. His angerjealousyhatredfear blended with his fireairwaterearth united with his powermagicforce and he left in search of red and silver to kill or break apart as the darkness in him and outside of him demanded even while he was troubled by his angerjealousyhatredfear and scared of his fireairwaterearth and propelled against his will by his powermagicforce.

            One night, far away from the family of redheads who loved him, he was out walking in his element, feeling his power in the blackness and the darkness and he saw silver approach red. It was not the first time that the silver and red had met; the knowledge was transmitted to him by the fire that burned in his fingertips at the sight of red meeting silver. The darkness spoke to him and told him how to stop it, told him he had to stop it, told him he must. He agreed: red could never again merge with silver. Red belonged with red, with brown, with yellow, with rainbows of color, any color, but not with silver. And then the wind whispered in his ear and he listened, for he never turned away the wind, just as he never turned away firewaterearthdarkness. The wind entered his ear and asked him, why not red with black? and as the wind left his body, he looked at the red again; saw how it was not the strawberry or ginger or cinnamon or fire of the other reds. This red was scarlet, like blood, like the metal that kept him alive, like the rubies on his sword that healed and killed and the liquid that flowed out of his eyes when he cried in agony and ecstasy. The earth called out to him, told him that this red was his red, that this red belonged to only him, that this red was meant for night, that this was a crimson that needed black and not silver, never silver. This red was different from the family of redheads, this red was a rebel, this red traded in curses and hexes and quasi-darkness and this red was written to be his and of the darkness, of fireairwaterearth, not with red, with brown, with yellow, with rainbows of color. He heard all of this, spoken to him by his powermagicforce in the shadows of his darkness, watching silver lean into red and hearing wind hiss at silver, watching red lean into silver and feeling fire burn at silver, watching as they began to fuse and smelling earth turn over under silver, watching as they didn�t and tasting water cleansing red.

            Red had turned away and was leaving in a cloak of his powermagicforce, urged on by his fireairwaterearth. Platinum was confused in red�s absenceofresponse, silver�s magic didn�t understand the crimson or how the red could resist and leave. Silver�s magical output increased, going after red and enticing red to turn around and look again at silver despite the waves of his powermagicforce that crimson was wrapped safely in. He saw crimson frown, saw silver smirk, and he growled, watching in the night, cloaked in the darkness. His angerjealousyhatredfear leaked into his powermagicforce, was his powermagicforce, and stopped the silver magic from reaching his crimson. Crimson chose and turned back away from the silver, walked away and left platinum hair alone in the darkness with black hair. Crimson red, blood red, red left silver to die alone and left silver under the full pressure of his angerpowerjealousymagichatredforcefear. The figure with the head of silver hair looked around for him, but he was hidden in the wind and by the earth, in the fire and by the water, and gray eyes searched but could not see his own green orbs, watching platinum and gray from under strands of black hair, green and black eyes full of angerpowerjealousymagichatredforcefear. He stepped closer to platinum and gray and his black magic weaved in wind went over to the silver hair, fondled it, caressed it. Gray eyes closed in defeat and respect and fear as his green approached, ever closer. His black magic surrounded the silver magic floating in wind and waving on water and planting in earth and carried on fire and forced it back toward the figure crowned in silver hair. His darkness and blackness and nightness closed in on the moonlit and magical and foreign silver and squeezed until there was no more moon, no more magic, no more silver.