The Color of Red

A colorblind detective sees his world in red. His life transformed as he encounters dangerous people and love unimaginable. Dare to read what is red?

Part 1

           What Happens in Candlelight

            Five feet from his imminent death, Master Redden positioned himself outside his study door. Turning the knob, he opened the door and stepped into the comfort of his seemingly empty room. Reeking of alcohol, he panted as he struggled to close the door. A faint click sounded as the door finally shut. “I must fix this accursed thing someday!” yelled the master to himself. “I’m tired of it jamming so.” A thin sliver of light forced its way into the dark room through a tiny separation between the door and hinges and the full moon shone brightly through the window. Unsteadily, Master Redden pulled out a long skinny key from his coat pocket. While twisting the key loosely in the lock, the key slipped from his trembling hand and landed hard against the burgundy carpet.

            “Damn it, this key!” Reaching down, Master Redden scooped the key off the carpet and, trying again, succeeded in locking the door. A clock chimed the late hour. The master sighed, feeling exhausted. His deep-set eyes glanced at his calloused hands as they shook from many years of hard work and stress. He was a short man with an untrimmed beard and a thin timid face. The harsh world had drained of his skin’s color and texture, a man with little to live for.

 Being a wealthy but mindfully poor man, the master spent most of his days working out whom his son was going to marry and where his inheritance might fall if he was to meet an unexpected death. His latest choice of a bride did not go so well with his son, and his latest will possessed issues. Who would think an arranged marriage and a simple list of possessions would be so difficult? He now stood four feet from death.

            The master tried to shake his worries as he turned from the door and began to walk forward in the darkness. The slow movements of his feet created little sound as he staggered across the room feeling for his desk. A few steps later, his waist was jabbed by a corner of wood. “Ouch,” he cursed, “damn desk. Now where did I put those candles?” Laying his hands upon the desk, he searched for the candelabra. His fingers soon touched a cold bit of metal. Found you, he internally announced.

Pulling from his pockets a match, the master struck the red tip against the wood. A flame awoke in the darkness. His bloodshot eyes and dilating pupils stared into the flame’s bright glowing center. Little did the master know that this illumination would be the last his eyes would ever see as he now stood three feet from death.

            The flaming tear of light floated, igniting the three candles. The master whipped the match in the air, dowsing the flame before it could burn his fingers. Radiant halos of light encircled the candles, allowing a dim room to emerge. Light extended to cluttered walls, upon which draped old tapestries and ancient books of tragedies and godforsaken gospels. Dusty furniture materialized followed by the glittering of the chandelier above. Smoky shadows danced on the desk as quiet breezes blew on the candle flames. Like ancient Egyptian tombs, the room felt untouched, decayed, and unnervingly quiet.

            Great anger and stress curled through the master’s fingers as he gripped the edge of his desk. From behind, a sudden twisted noise echoed from the shallow walls. Master Redden turned. His quivering eyes searched the darkness for the source of the disturbance.

            “Hello? Is anyone there?” Silence. “Just rats,” exhaled the master as he walked around the desk and seated himself in his chair. Taking a glass cup from the desk drawer, he filled it with whiskey. Gulping the last drop down his dry throat another noise reverberated from the stillness. The master tossed the glass cup at the wall, shattering it into hundreds of tiny shards. “Why won’t anyone leave me alone!” Silence. “My son hates me, and even now I have come to hate myself.” The master pointed across the room. “Beast from beyond the wall, what do you want of me? Are you a ghost? An angel? If so give me a sign of what I need to do to bring peace to my family again! I am lost.” Breathing heavily, the master slammed his fists onto the desk. “Answer me!” The top drawer of his desk suddenly popped open, revealing a forgotten but familiar letter. On it, in cursive handwriting, was written The Last Will and Testament of a Mr. H. Redden.

            Master Redden had forgotten to give his will to his lawyer earlier that day, and grabbing the letter with both hands as to tear it apart, he stopped.

            “This is the sign?” he cried. “No, I will not allow my fortune to rule the relationship between me and my son. This money, this inheritance has brought nothing more than misery in my life. I know I am old and dying, but, ghost from beyond the wall, give me another sign. I beg you.” The air remained silent as a shallow breeze entered the room. Angered, the master held the letter firmly, moving it up to the candle flames. “This is what I think of your sign.” For a moment, the transparent paper glowed. It seemed as though the written words danced across the paper as to escape their burning fate, but the hungry flame reached out and took its prize. The will became engulfed in fire and the room became beautifully illuminated.

            A mysterious arm invaded in the light, in the hand was a gun. Master Redden, hypnotized by the fire, saw nothing. The ghostly arm floated silently toward the back of the master’s head, and when the gun reached its destination, it fired. The master’s body fell on his desk. A limp arm rolled over the table’s edge, dropping the burnt will. Fresh blood dripped onto the carpet as the charred remains of the will floated to the ground. The gun lowered to the owner’s side; the candlelight flickered in their eyes. Walking to the front of the desk, hidden in shadow, the murderer blew out the candles and slipped behind a secret passage into the darkness.

           . . .

Night had ended as a ray of sunlight peeked over the horizon, touching the town of Landenville. As the sun rose higher into the sky, sunlight broke through a barrier of clouds; and like water breaking from a dam, the sunlight surged down city streets, around corners, lighting windows and stopping suddenly at a solitary individual walking along a vacant avenue. A shadowy head of a man lifted, allowing the morning light to drape over his face. By his handsome and stern features, one could see intelligence and patience. This stranger was dressed in an inspector’s attire complete with a hat, a coat, and a chain leading into his vest pocket. Not a tall man but slightly average with arms that swayed as he walked. A slight limp could be seen in his step, like you would see in someone with an ankle sprain caused by a deformity of one leg being slightly shorter than the other. A small pistol hung by his side, half hidden by the folds of his coat. His polished shoes and well-groomed hair gave him a sense of purpose and responsibility. But perhaps his most striking feature was one that could only be seen by the man himself, a sight of a world in only one color�"red.

            The roads from which this man walked were falling into disrepair as well as the houses and businesses of the town. Countless puddles left behind after the last night’s April weather were scattered across the dented roads. The only form of wealth was a large mansion that rested high up on a towering hill overlooking the quaint little town. Early twentieth century buildings and rows of shops began to awake with life as the shadowy stranger passed them by. A church bell sounded in the distance, and water drizzled from the clouds above.

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Author's Note

Entire manuscript will not be uploaded at this time. While the first print edition of the book is for sale, I have found a new publisher and a re-edit is in the processes for a second print edition. Sequel to follow