Feeling the tug of colors

Color Master moved the prism from one hand to the other to allow each of them to see the spectrum. Without thinking, Ishamel reached out, feeling the tug of the colors, the familiar weight, as the splintered light- no the spectrum- edged closer. He lifted his pointer finger and a green swathe leaped toward him.

Ishmael didn’t notice the other novices staring at him. He didn’t hear Color Master call his name. He was oblivious to everything but the color as it tugged him.

“Ishmael?” Color Master said again. “Ishmael!”

This time Ishmael heard her and jerked away from the splintered light, suddenly aware that no one else had reached for the color. No one else had become list in the colors. He ducked his head. “Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“On the contrary!” Color Master said. “Well done! You’re the first novice I’ve seen who has an immediate connection with the spectrum. Bodes well for this group.”

The Splintered Light, a book by Ginger Johnson