Once there was a town where everything was grey. The houses were grey, the gardens were grey, the people were grey and even their pets were grey. It wasn’t even a particularly interesting grey – it was the most tedious, uninspiring grey there ever was. It was hardly surprising then that the town was called Grey.
Nothing ever changed, every day was the same – even the weather was grey.
Every morning, as the grey sun rose above the grey horizon, the people of Grey got out of their grey beds, they put on their grey clothes, ate their grey food and said grey things to one another. At a quarter past grey they passed through their grey front doors, walked down their grey streets and went to work at their grey jobs. In the evening, as the grey sun sank below the grey horizon, the people of Grey returned to their grey houses, ate more grey food, said more grey things and retired to their grey beds to dream grey dreams. So it was grey day after grey day, grey month after grey month, grey year after grey year.
One grey morning in the town of Grey a grey girl rose from her grey bed, put on her grey clothes and went out into her grey garden. She sat as she always did and did nothing as she always did. Then, all on its own, her grey hair moved and she felt something on her grey face. It was the wind. It blew her grey jacket, it blew the grey flowers and it blew the grey trees and then it was gone. The girl looked around to see where the wind had gone but she couldn’t see it. She started to search behind the grey bushes and around the grey tool shed but she could not find it. So she stopped and sat down as she always did and was about to nothing as she always did when she thought of a question.
“What if?” she whispered.
The whole grey world seemed to pause.
“What if there was something else? What if things were different? What if there was more than grey?”
She looked around.
“What if that flower was not grey?”
The flower turned yellow, white and green and the girl laughed. She had never laughed before but she liked it so she did it some more.
“What if that tree was not grey?”
The tree turned green, not one green, but a thousand greens and the girl danced. She had never danced before but she liked it so she did it some more.
“What if the sky was not grey?”
The sky turned a beautiful blue and the clouds became fluffy and white. The sun shone brightly on the yellow flower and the green tree and made them even more beautiful and the girl sang a song. She had never sang a song before but she liked it so she did it some more.
“What if?” she would ask and more and more shapes and colours entered her grey world.
“What if?” she sang and other grey people noticed things were changing.
“What if?” they whispered.
“What if?” they laughed.
“What if?” they danced.
“What if?” they sang.
And Grey was never the same again.