“Dad! Dad!” His son bubble, “I had a root beer float with Auntie Lynn, and she said it was all homemade! It was the best soda ever!”

“I’d believe it.” Young Sorren laughed, “That woman can make anything, and make it twelve times better than anything store bought.”

The three of them took a ladder up to the roof, Glen first, their son second, and Young Sorren last. Present Sorren watched from below, as fireworks went off, the realization of exactly how alone he was cut through him. Everyone who had been at that Fourth of July party was dead, or he had pushed them away.

Sorren looked at the back of his son's head, heart sinking, he didn’t even know where his son was, or if he was still around. Sorren hadn’t spoken a word to the boy, not after the blowout they had. Now that Sorren thought about it, the argument had no point or reasoning whatsoever. For the first time in years Sorren found himself regretting blowing up like that, he began to feel worried. What if his son was dead? What if he was on some dirty street somewhere? What if he was homeless and alone?

The memory faded, Sorren put his head in his hands, emotions growing to an overwhelming peak.

“Strong people don’t cry…” He growled.

He walked through the messy tunnels, a sort of numbness passing over him.

“Strong people don’t cry...” He repeated.

He stepped back into the city, chaos was exploding all around him, somehow the other beasts had found a way to light fire. Everything was burning.

“D-Don’t cry.” Sorren whispered hoarsely.

Fire sprouted forth from the piles of rubbish like hungry venomous weeds, the heat pounded on every inch of Sorrens body, but he continued till he saw who he was looking for. An eighteen year old Navy, waiting in front of the burning pile of Sorrens old castle, standing over a pile of bones.

“End this Navy…” Sorren croaked, “I beg of you.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the whole time?” Navy asked in his hauntingly passive tone.

The dreaded phantom clock gonged, and Navy dropped the last match into the pile of bones. They burst into flames, and with one last look at Sorren, Navy walked into the roaring flames behind him. Sorren stared aghast as a burnt strip of orange fabric was spat out from the fire. Sorren turned his gaze to the burning bones, which spat out a dark blue orb, it landed at Sorrens feet. Only wishing to relinquish the pain he was in, Sorren knelt down, and picked up the orb.

No flash of light came this time to comfort Sorren. A wave of cold dark emptiness washed over Sorren, then a dull hospital room came into view.

Young Sorren and his son, now at least sixteen, were by Glen’s bed. Sorren was kneeling next to his wife, holding her hand, shaking and crying. His son stood with a hand on his father’s shoulder. All color drained from his face, eyes puffy and red.

“You’re gonna make it hun.” Young Sorren rasped, his throat dry from crying.

Glen looked up at her family, her hair was gone, and she had lost so much weight.

“Promise me…” She strained, “you...won’t shut...everyone out.”

“I-” Young Sorren gulped.

“I promise.” Both Sorrens croaked.

Glen managed to pull a smile and then her hand fell limp. Young Sorren let out a long agonized wail, his son stood stock still for a few moments before walking over to the window, then punching the wall. Young Sorren stood up after a time, still crying, his son walked over to him, and they hugged each other tightly. Present Sorren looked at Glens pale limp body.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, voice trembling, “I-I didn’t keep it.”

Finally, Sorren allowed himself to cry. The memory faded, regret filling him, he fell to his knees as the fire surrounded him once again. He raised his head to the ceiling, and screamed.

“I WAS WRONG!” He roared in anguish, “I had everything I needed! And I threw it all away!”

Sorren looked down at the five memories in the pouch, heart sinking.

“What do I do now?” He croaked, “I have nothing left.”

A voice echoed through the Underearth realm, penetrating the sound of flames.

“Dad…” The voice whispered, both young and grown up at the same time. “Don’t give up.”

“He IS alive…” Sorren whispered, “I-I have to…”

He paused, looking at the fire surrounding him. He felt something, something that had been long dead, ignited in his heart.

“I have to get out of here and find him!” He grunted, getting up, “I have to fix this!”

The ceiling burst into a sea of bright light, millions of hands began reaching down, Sorren smiled, lifting his own hands.

“Thank you!” He cried as light flooded his vision. “I finally understand!”

                                                                      …..

Sorren Daniel Bowman, CEO of Atlas Computer Manufacturing, shot up in his bed.

Panting hard, Sorren looked around his large bedroom, the bedside table bathing everything in a dull yellow glow. For a moment, all Sorren saw was a room constructed of mud, trash, and bone. Once his eyes adjusted however, he could see the elaborate gold and silver trim glinting from the lamplight. He knew it sat on the finest oak wood, the carpet was too dark in color to see in this light, but Sorren knew it was a fur based fabric that was a sort of maroon magenta.

Glen’s favorite color.

Sorren laid back down for a few minutes, trying to remember what he had wanted to do, his memory had been a little spotty lately. He sat up suddenly.

“Phone.” he muttered, patting the bedside table.

Sorren took a total of twenty minutes looking for his phone, which had somehow ended up under the bed. After retrieving it, Sorren looked into his contacts and scrolled until he found the number he was looking for.

“Thank God I didn’t delete it.” He smiled, pressing the call button.

He sat there for a few moments in anticipation as the phone buzzed. Finally, someone answered.

“Hello?” A young man's voice yawned, “Who is this?”

“Oh thank the lord,” Sorren sighed, relieved “it’s so good to hear your voice Navy. Erm did I wake you?”

There was a pause.

“N-not at all dad…” Navy stammered, sounding surprised. “Did um, did I hear you right?”

“Yes.” Sorren said, “I haven’t heard anything for a year. I’ve been getting worried.”

“Wow…”Navy replied, “considering some of the things you said before I left, that… means a lot.”

There was a pause.

“How have you been?” Navy asked.

“Well…” Sorren cringed, “um, there have been issues lately. Some of which may or may not involve delusions, depression, and hallucinations from night terrors…”

“How long has it been since you got out of the house?” Navy asked, sounding like a concerned older brother.

“Uhhhhh…” Sorren paused, “What’s the date today?”

“Monday the eighteenth.” Navy replied.

“Ahem...oh…” Sorren flushed. “Um...that’s, twelve days then.”

There was a sound like Navy dropped something heavy, he cursed away from the phone.

“No wonder you’ve been all loopy!” He cried, “It doesn’t help your depression, you know it gets worse around winter on top of...well...you know.”

Silence. It had been seven years since Glens death from pancreatic cancer...that day still remained clear in both men’s minds.

“Look,” Navy said, “The band and I are in the area on a tour. I’m getting some fish and chips, and coming over there.”

“Sounds good.” Sorren replied.

“And NO drinking!” Navy ordered before hanging up.

Sorren stood up and walked over to the light switch, he closed his eyes, and flicked it on. Blinking a few times, he strode over to his closet and looked inside. Suits, suits, more suits, finally a plaid orange shirt and black jeans. Sorren got dressed then looked in the mirror. For a moment, he saw a grotesque mold covered monster staring back at him. He shook his head then looked again. Sorrens own sollum gaunt face stared back at him, his brown hair was a greasy tangled mess. He squinted a little, he hadn’t realized how much weight he had lost.

Sorren brushed out his hair, then looked at the brush. Two-hundred dollars for the silver plated thing, and all it was good for was for brushing hair.

“What a waste.” He scowled, tossing the hairbrush on his bed.

It was only an hour later when Sorren heard a knock at the door. He went downstairs, his bare footfalls echoing through the cavernous house. With shaking hands, he opened the door.

A tall young man with a thin mustache, bearded and many piercings stood at the door. His leather jacket had shimmering metal studs on the shoulders, he had ripped jeans, and tattoos spiraling up his left arm, which held a bag containing a styrofoam box. His dark blue eyes went wide when he saw Sorren.

“Jesus Christ!” He gasped, “You’re a mess!”

Before Sorren could say a word, Navy had taken him by the arm and led him to the kitchen. He placed the fish and chips on the table, and started pouring some sort of drink into a mug.

“This is homemade Gatorade,” Navy said, “it’ll help your blood sugar and electrolyte level go up. Take small sips or you’ll make yourself throw up.”

“Thank you.” Sorren croaked, he had just realized how thirsty he was.

“And I’ll take you to the doctors after you’ve finished eating to make sure you’re not having other problems.” Navy said.

Sorren nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

Silence. Navy started putting food onto plates when Sorren said something neither he nor Navy expected him to say.

“I want to sell the house.” He blurted.

Navy looked at his father in shock, dropping the fish bit he was taking out of the container.

“Huh?” He blinked.

“I can’t stand being here alone,” Sorren explained, “there are too many memories, and I just feel so overwhelmed by all this… crap in the house.”

Navy blinked a few times, passing Sorren the plate with the most food on it.

“Can’t say I expected that.” he admitted, smoothing a hand through his blue streaked brown hair. “But… I’ll be here for about three months, that should be enough time to help you move out. I don’t think you’d like staying with me, I know you hate traveling around. Where would you want to go?”

“A place out in the country sounds nice.” Sorren shrugged, eating a piece of fish.

“Make sure you’ll still have human contact,” Navy said, looking at his phone calendar “the band’s touring in Ireland after this, beautiful place. Would you be able to handle the change?”

“I need something different,” Sorren said, “this place is gonna be the death of me.”

“I’ll do some digging then,” Navy said, “first, eat, then we’re going to the doctors, you may need vitamin supplements or something.”

“Alright.” Sorren smiled, “thanks.”

Sorren and Navy finished eating, then Navy put an arm around his father, leading him out the door, Navy’s band name glistening in orange sequins on his back.

The Color Blue.