#BookBlitz–> Amber by T. Strange
Print Length: 45 pages
Publisher: Torquere Press, Inc. (January 14, 2014)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Language: English
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance
Synopsis:
Anthony was a painter until he lost the ability to see color. Worse than color blindness, the edges of objects and people blur together, making it almost impossible for Anthony to interact with anyone or anything. After retreating from the world for decades, he sees a glimpse of yellow that leads him to a musician, Teague.
Excerpt:
The next day, the colors started to blur.
to their usual mischief. I would frown at them, and they would pop back. They
were usually a bit prone to frivolity and playfulness, so I paid them no mind.
I didn’t connect what was happening to the fortuneteller’s words. Not yet.
shift while I was in the middle of a brush stroke. Or worse, before I had even
gotten it out of its tube and onto my palate. It would just be gone, going from
cobalt or aquamarine to a nonsense color, like pajamas or garbage. And all the
scowling in the world wouldn’t bring those blues back.
becoming deaf to color. It was worse than being blind. It was a catastrophe.
leaving me with a soggy mess of random hues that clashed and jarred and upset
me badly. By the end of the day, they were gone.
What I wouldn’t give for a glimpse of clean black or pure white. My malady was
far worse. I saw only muddy, indescribable, jarring concoctions of brownish-grayish-primordial-muckish
tones.
covered in paint, I called my patron. He said that he would send someone to
pick it up. The man, when he arrived, looked down his long, aristocratic nose
at the painting and gave me a look like I was something nasty and squelchy he
had found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He began efficiently packing the
painting into a box. He was so offended by the painting that he could hardly
bring himself to touch it.
saw in the painting. Even the most brutal, discordant visual cacophony, the
most lurid, vibrant, glorious mess of
color would have been a relief.
resorting my paints in every conceivable order, with increasing desperation,
hoping that something, anything, would jar loose whatever was clouding my
vision.
though it would be God on the other end, and He would give me some arcane
ceremony, some act of penance. It would be hopelessly complicated, but once I
had performed it to His satisfaction, He would restore my sense of color.
individual words he said, but his meaning was clear. What is this shit you’ve
given me? If you think I’m paying you, you’re mental. By the way, you owe me money. Click.
mess I had made, what a mess I was in, then I wasn’t just crazy. I had a
genuine Problem. I wasn’t simply having some sort of temperamental, artistic
breakdown. Problems could be solved.
About the Author:
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