Words for Wednesday.

 

Words for Wednesday.

River has supplied the prompts for this week. The objective is to encourage people to write. Why not visit her to see what others have created?

The prompts are:

shipwreck  hook  unexpected  buttermilk  white-knuckled  buggy

Strange new colours for paints

She was tired of the bland look of her new house and wanted some ideas for unusual colours. The paint samples had intriguing names. Whoever could have guessed there were so many shades of white with such eclectic labels? Apple White, Swiss Coffee, White Dove, Chantilly Lace, Scotch Mist – her head spun. Each one was designated for a different aspect, north-facing requiring something quite different to south-east.

She continued searching for ‘just the right colour.’

‘It will speak to you,’ her daughter had said, but she was rapidly discovering that she was profoundly deaf.

Beauty Berry Purple sounded tempting; it was bright and deep and cheerful, but overpowering. It would be impossible to furnish a room with walls that colour.

Buttermilk was another version of white, a creamy, yellowish colour, a little like vomit. It would be difficult to find accessories that would complement it and not emphasise its less attractive qualities.

She pondered on Shipwreck for a long time. It was an exciting colour, a mixture of green, blue, and grey, but not calming. She could imagine it causing nightmares, so decided against it.

White-knuckled was extraordinary; ivory white with grey overtones. It was too cold for any room in which one hoped to relax.

Hook replicated the colours of fishing hooks – bronze, black, blue, and occasionally red or rainbow coloured. None of those appealed – they were too brash.

Unexpected was exactly that – a startling shade of vibrant pink with underlying pigments of gold and silver. That would certainly reflect the sun, as well as the moon, electric light, candles, oil lamps, or any other source of light. Even a flickering match would trigger a kaleidoscope of blinding, flashing luminosity. It was far too stimulating.

The last one on the paint chart was called Buggy. The name made her think of mosquitoes and midges, and she started to feel itchy. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to paint their walls such a muddy, dull shade of brownish-grey, or was it greyish-brown? At least the dirt wouldn’t show, she smiled to herself.

As she drove home, she congratulated herself on her decision. In the boot of the car were several litres of the paint she had chosen. It was every builder’s favourite; Magnolia went with everything. It was bland, yes, but inoffensive. She could always redecorate later . . . again.