At 5:25 a.m. Desmond awoke, shielding his eyes from the morning light that pierced through the blinds of his bedroom. Languidly, he pulled the sheet back and slipped into his well-loved slippers, careful not to wake his wife. At 5:27 a.m. he reached the kitchen where he slotted two slices of wholemeal bread in the toaster and reached for the medicine cabinet, plucking out three small, pill bottles. He poured himself a glass of full-cream milk and increased the dial on his transistor radio to catch the 5:30 a.m. news headlines. Desmond sat down to eat his breakfast, one ear listening to some lunatic claim that the Government was poisoning the water supply. He swallowed the last of his toast and checked his leather-strapped watch; it was 5:36 a.m. The morning paper should have arrived. But on this day, Desmond would not make it to the bush where the young newsboy always threw the paper. He was stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up in utter bewilderment at a violent, scarlet sky, deep crimson splotches swirling like a whirlpool in a sea of blood.
Desmond felt the back of his throat harden. Every hair on his body stood rigid as if an electrical current coursed through his veins. He clambered through his front door and called out to his wife. “Susan. Susan! Come quick!” Desmond charged down his hallway and crashed into his bedroom where his wife began to stir. “Susan wake up! You must come outside!” She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.
“My god Desmond, what is the matter with you?”
“The sky! Look, it’s red!” As Susan collected herself and rose from bed, Desmond dashed back outside, his stiff legs beginning to betray him. He stood beneath the bleeding sky and watched as Susan slowly descended the steps to their house, her gaze averted above. She stopped beside her husband, hands planted firmly on her hips, and shot him a perplexed glance.
“Is this some kind of joke? What exactly am I looking at?”
“The sky Susan! It’s bloody red!” Desmond swivelled to face her, frantically pointing at the sky.
“Red? My God, Desmond, I’ve never seen it so blue! Not a cloud to be seen.” Susan turned to walk inside, but Desmond reached for her, pleading.
“Bloody hell, Susan, the sky is red! Don’t you see it?” But even as he said it, Desmond began to doubt it himself. His eyes urgently searched his wife’s face for signs of acknowledgement, but all he saw was sympathy.
“Desmond please! You’re scaring me!” Desmond ran his hands over his head, clutching at his wispy grey hair. He began to shake his head violently. He felt the gentle touch of his wife’s hands upon his shoulders. “Desmond, the sky is blue. The sky has always been blue.” Desmond’s breaths became shallow and rapid as he wrung his hands, his eyes as wide as a startled child.
“Wh- What do you mean?” Desmond’s voice began to falter. “How can you not see it? I’m not crazy, I’m not. I- I can see
it.” Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren. He snapped around and saw his neighbour standing at the window, his phone pressed against one ear.
Susan’s lip trembled as Desmond whirled back around to face her, clenching and unclenching his trembling hands. Watching her husband rant about the sky in nothing but his night gown, Susan became jarringly aware of how old and frail her husband looked.
“Susan, please.” Desmond’s voice was a pleading whisper. “I’m not crazy. Tell me you see it too. Tell me the sky isn’t blue.” But even as he said it, Desmond began to doubt himself as well. The wail of the siren reached its ear-splitting crescendo as a police car skidded to a halt outside the house. Two police officers, a man and a woman, climbed out of the car. The woman spoke first, flashing a forced smile at the two.
“We received a noise complaint. Is everything okay over here?”
“No! The sky is red!” Desmond laughed incredulously. “There is nothing “fine” about that.”
Susan approached the policewoman. “He’s been getting worse every day. I thought the medication was working but maybe I’ve been ignoring the signs.” She broke down in tears. As the male officer comforted her, the woman eyed Desmond.
“Sir, you need to come with us.”
“What? Why? I haven’t done anything,” Desmond spluttered.
“Sir, we want to help you. We can take you to the hospital. You’re safe with us.”
The two police officers converged on Desmond. He submitted, allowing them to lead him to the car. Susan stood, tears cascading down her cheeks. “I’ll come by the hospital as soon as I can,” she promised.
Desmond was pushed inside and onto the car’s hard, metallic seats. The police officer picked up her radio and spoke into it. Desmond could have sworn she said something about “another red sky”. Upon turning off her radio, the woman pulled a lever and a barrier between the police and Desmond rose. A pleasant aroma permeated the air. The smell filled his nostrils and he was reminded of home, of lazy afternoons and waking up next to his wife. The cold bite of the seats morphed into an embrace as warm as Susan’s. A dopey smile stretched across his face. The car began to move. Sometime later, the door opened and Desmond climbed out of the car like an obedient, old dog. They had parked outside an imposing black brick building that bore no traditional hospital markings, yet Desmond relaxed in the arms of the police. His head lolled back and before he shut his eyes, he caught a glimpse of the bluest sky he had ever seen.
