By Peter J.
“I’m not crazy!” Violet snapped. She wasn’t sure this was true, but she was only ten.
“Who else sees words in smells and colors, Violet?” her brother said.
Violet didn’t reply. She’d heard music from the next room: familiar scents of syrup and fresh earth filled her nostrils.
“Pancakes and grass,” she mumbled.
The lyrics were yellow, black, and lavender to Violet.
“Can you smell that?” she asked.
“I smell that you’re crazy.”
Leaning back against the couch, Violet closed her eyes. She let the scents and colors kaleidoscope in her mind.
This opulent synesthetic world was hers alone to enjoy.
This one is very surreal and delightful.
Thank you, Bobby!
A wonderful fresh take on perspective. Original!
Thank you Barry, I appreciate it!
Synthesthesia is a beautiful thing. Used to be we were all mad, but there is some scientific understanding of this phenomenon now.
Many thanks, Fran, I think it is truly an under-studied and under-appreciated condition.
And her name is Violet! You have a writing style, Carinna, that is frank and open, where characters seem to thrive in spite of critique and mockery. This, and other stories you have written, simply ooze an inherent personal strength. I’m more than impressed.
Thank you so much, I’m a sucker for an underdog, lol. I really appreciate your high praise!