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Alan and the Last Color

Alan lived in a world washed clean of colour.
The sky was the colour of old paper, the trees a thousand shades of ash. Even the sun, when it rose, felt tired—its light a dull whisper over sleeping streets.

Yet amid all the greys, one colour refused to fade. A single red feather lay on his windowsill, bright as a heartbeat. No one else seemed to notice it. But Alan couldn’t look away.

Every morning, he picked it up, tracing its edge, wondering why this? why still red?

One day, curiosity tugged harder than fear. Alan tucked the feather into his coat and stepped outside. The air was cool, the kind that carried forgotten songs. He followed the wind through the quiet city, where people moved like shadows—eyes down, colourless.

At the edge of town stood an old bridge, cracked and veiled in mist. Alan hesitated. The red feather glowed faintly in his hand, pulsing with light.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s see where you lead.”

He took a step onto the bridge. The boards creaked, the air trembled—and a flicker of colour bloomed beneath his feet. Soft pinks and golds shimmered for an instant, then vanished as he drew back. His heart raced. He stepped again, this time holding the feather high. The light returned, brighter, spreading like sunrise through the fog.

Every step forward brought colour back—a brushstroke of sky blue on the horizon, a spark of green along the railings. Alan felt warmth on his face for the first time in years.

At the center of the bridge, the wind lifted, carrying the feather from his hand. It spiraled upward, glowing so fiercely that the greyness cracked open like dawn.

Light spilled through every street, every window, every waiting heart. Reds sang into oranges, blues swelled into oceans, yellows danced like laughter. People looked up, their eyes shining with remembered wonder.

Alan stood in the glow, the bridge beneath him now radiant with life.

And as the last shadow dissolved, he realized: it wasn’t the feather that saved the world.
It was his courage to follow it.

Colour spread everywhere—alive, unstoppable, forever.