I took a deep breath and focused.
A soft hum began to build behind my eyes as I directed the energy there.
Then everything changed.
All color vanished.
The world turned black and white—no, worse than that.
Even shapes were gone.
The garden, the trees, the sky. Everything had disappeared.
In their place were lines.
Thin, flickering, constantly moving lines that twisted and crisscrossed into each other.
Circles formed and broke apart.
Scribbles appeared everywhere.
It was like looking at the world drawn by a child who didn't know what shapes were.
The ground was gone, replaced by white lines.
Even my hands had turned into scribbles.
Then nausea hit me like a wave.
I lost my balance and fell forward, gasping.
The world snapped back to normal.
The colors returned, the grass felt solid beneath me again.
I was sweating.
"What was that?" I asked, breathing hard.
"That was the Colorless World," Dad said softly. His voice was calm again, almost gentle.
