Yesteryear Fiction

Colors
By Amanda Firefox


“Can you see it!?” Bugge screamed, eyes full of madness. “The colors! Oh, Aranhya! The colors!”

“Bugge!” Aranhya shouted, wincing against the biting wind, the draft of ash and heat rising out of the chasm. “Give me your hand!”

“I can see it all! I can see the colors between colors!” Bugge grinned, howling even as his fingers slipped further across the gritty ledge he clung to. “I can see the colors of time! Of the worlds that exist between worlds! The colors of magic! Of faith! Of death!”

“What are you talking about, Bugge!?” She yelled, shielding her eyes with an arm, blinking against acrid tears. “I can’t see a thing!”

“I can see... I can see...” He panted, looking down now, staring into the swirling abyss of fire beneath him. In an instant, his eyes snapped back up, met Aranhya’s suddenly, locked. “Goodbye, Yani.”

The words came fast, fingers releasing instantly. Before she could reach, before she could move or speak, he fell, dropped into volcanic nothingness, hands spread as if in appeal to some forgotten god, eyes wide and distant, peaceful.

“Buuuuuuuuugge!” Aranhya howled, but it was too late. In an instant he was gone, split and shimmering into a flash of iridescent light before his ratty cloak collapsed in on itself and fell. She made a grab for it, but it was too far, too late, and the empty cloak drifted away, swallowed up by the fires below.

Bugge. She closed her eyes, pulled back, sniffed. Dammit, Bugge.

How cruel it is that my people cannot go to the places between worlds where your people thrive.

How cruel, Bugge.


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Amanda Firefox is a fiery little brunette who spends as much time at the beach as she can manage. She doesn't write much, but when she writes, it's almost always about her favorite subject: boys.