Between Shades Of Gray Novels & Stories

I throw on my jacket, and Susan pops a question. "What shade of grey is that, though?" I am on the verge of replying to the famous movie fifty shades of grey, but I stop myself. "This is mink. It goes well with green and black." "I honestly don't know how you do it, girl," Susan mutters. Her eyes are coated with slight admiration.

The driver then activated the scanner of the carriage and extracted some energy from him. There were levels in terms of shadows and with each upgrade, it acquires a color. There’s a shade of pebble-black, midnight-black, sable-black, and obsidian-black, respectively. Each level-up means additional thousand to their bank account. The system was pretty tricky. They’re converting a shadow’s energy into currency and using it to acquire basic needs, which was why the levels of shadows increase and decrease day by day. “Happy?” said George after he unsummoned his shadow.

She frowned, and put her head down on the table, and closed her eyes for a moment. Dimitri and Pete walked through the door, Pete went to work on the soup, Ivan whispered to Dimitri about her arms. He looked over but said nothing. Pete cleared this throat, and Jade looked up. Her eyes a pale gray, almost white startled him he dropped the bowl of soup shattering the bowl when it hit the ground. He broke his stare, and grabbed a cloth, “My apologies you're eyes aren't as gray as they used to be. It’s almost a pale white,” he whispered.

ADRIAN'S POV I held my chest as I spurted out a mouthful of blood and weakness washed over my body. "Adrian!" My mother's panicked voice rang in my ears, but it sounded so distant. "Adrian, are you okay?" "Adrian, Adrian!" The voices of the people in the room kept ringing in my ears, but they were too far away. I could feel my consciousness dwindling, and before I knew it, everything turned dark...

We met when my father got sick, he was sharing a chemo room with her mother, luckily her mother did great, my father didn't take it. "Cheers to... two weeks in Spain, and the clean slate." Erica cheers, her glass in the air. "To a clean slate!"

I respond. He looks at his phone “Hmm, let’s see. It says if your favorite color is grey, it’s because you don’t like attracting attention to yourself. You choose neutral colors to blend in. Grey can indicate a balanced, intelligent personality who is a good problem solver. In some cases, grey is associated with technology, social media, and modern solutions.” He looks up at me. “So that means you hate attracting attention, you’re smart and love technology?” It sounds like he’s asking me. I shrug my shoulders. “I guess that is true. I do tend to avoid attracting attention to myself unless I’m on the runway… Let’s see I have a degree in web design so that does mean technology. I don’t believe

**CHAPTER 2** It was never wrong when they said there's no place like home. Natasha finally returned home,and arising from her bed feeling so jiggy in the wee hours of the morning. Her bedroom was quite an extravagant space designed to reflect her luxurious lifestyle and personal tastes. The color scheme leans towards girly and elegant tones. The walls is adorned with textured wallpaper, featuring delicate patterns and floral motifs, adding a touch of sophistication.

“Do you have anything less bright?” The man took the book back and jumped to the back of the book. “Here. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for somewhere between those pages.” Except, I had no idea what I was looking for. In each shade of blue, I saw Valerie. In each shade of pink, I saw her lips. And in those earthy tones, I saw her eyes. This was a bad idea. Grey. I decided on what was called ‘porpoise grey’ - dark and gloomy, just the way I was feeling.

My skin is extremely pale and my eyes are significantly sunk in like something just sucked the life out of me. I struggle while walking but make it to my bedroom. I lock the door and lay in there hoping to escape this nightmare.

The colors drain. The jazz goes flat. The rain loses its layers. The world dials back to sixty percent, then forty, then less, like someone's hand on a dimmer switch, pulling it down, down, steady and deliberate, until the only thing left at full brightness is the image behind the glass: a woman, a man, a child. A family.