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This is edited from when I first posted it in my journal.

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Tension. I walked by a quarreling couple. Sadness. Didn't her mother die a few weeks ago? Fear. Those darn bullies. Happiness. "Yes! I got an A!" my best fried Sarah yelled as she ran to me. I smiled. "How'd you do, Crystal?" she asked.

There wasn't a word to the color my face turned. "Oh, that bad, huh?" She let it drop at that. That was the beauty of Sarah. She didn't push. Guilt. I tried to hide my facial expression. What was she thinking?

"Well, see you after school," Sarah said. I got a wave and a wink, then she was briskly walking down the school hallway.

My name is Crystal Mayson. I am fifteen years old, a sophomore at Red Grove High School. I live with my mom, a single mother for fourteen years. Yes, my dad left when I was young. He is barely mentioned in our household. I don't even know what he looks like. I don't mind, I am perfectly content. My mom is the kind of mom that stays in her office all day; I make my own meals and take care of myself. Mom just kind of exists.

I might be just like you, but you're wrong. For as long as I remember, I could sense the mood around me. Anytime my mood or anyone around me's mood changed, I saw a flash of color. I notcied a pattern: each color coordinated to a certain mood. Another thing, my eyes changed to that color. That has caused problems in the past.

Ding ding! Finally, school was over. On the walk home, I didn't see any color. I didn't pass anybody and my mood was constant. That is still weird because I always pass Mrs. Appleton.

I walked through the door at home. Black. An inky, depthless black. That's a color I have never seen before. Then, I began to worry. I dropped my backpack and ran to the kitchen. "Mom?" I walked in.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would show up," I heard a man's voice say. The man sat at our kitchen table. I knew he was old, even though he didn't look it. Younger people's moods seem to have a stronger feeling about them. His was very weak indeed.

"Who are you?" I said. I cast my eyes downward, knowing that they were probably black as well.

"Look at me," he said in a scratchy voice. I looked up and stared him straight in the eye. "Yes, you are definately her," said he. Still no change of color. Who was he?

"You're doing something. You know what I can do," I said dryly. And, to my durprise, he smiled. He got up and walked over me. I was overwhelmed with so many colors at once; it was suffocating. Then, it suddenly stopped. I looked down. Why was my pendant in his hand? What shocked me most was that the once multi-colored gem was also that same inky black. I heard a soft dripping sound and realized I was crying. "Why are you so sad?" I asked through sobs.

"You just look so much like her, with your brown hair and very... interesting eyes...' he said.

"Who?" I asked. Trying to sound sympathetic.

"Queen Jenelia." Oh my god. I had a dream last night and heard that same name. The queen had died in the old man's ... this man's arms. This man right in front of me. I guess I couldn't hide the shock on my face.

"Now you know who I am?" he asked. I nodded. Then he started crying.

White. A blinding white. Pure joy.