Of color

How would someone who has lived their life colorblind react to suddenly facing a world full of color? I would suspect that it would be overwhelming. Such a sensory overload would surely be like a blind man looking directly into a lightbulb for the first time. Like a deaf man listening to heavy metal as the first thing after recovering his ears. It wouldn't just be surprising, but physically painful.

So what if that happened to a colorblind person at seemingly random? If, throughout his life, inexplicably the world was filled with color at a moment's notice, burning his eyes and crippling him momentarily, only to vanish as quickly as it came. What events would bring the color about? Would he grow to long for those moments of brief clarity of the true world, or would he resent them? And would he find some way to understand what it was that was causing the color to return to his eyes in the first place?

In my head, this man and his colorblindness is connected to angels and demons, fighting over custody of the world and its people. Color is given to him when angels and demons are near, who are frequently running from or fighting each other for control of their territories. When the character realizes the relationship between these fighting parties and his colored sight, he begins to hunt them down whenever the color appears, hoping to learn more about what is going on, and prevent them from harming any one else.

The real question, of course, is why he is connected to the angels and demons in the first place. Are they the reason he became colorblind at all? And why does being near them give him the ability back to be able to see color?

The other thing about this story that I would want to explore is the concept of the appearance of the angels and demons themselves. I always wanted to have the two factions appear as one might expect them to, but in reverse. To have demons which are beautiful creatures, delicate in appearance and always glowing, but with deceptively bone crushing strength. To have angels dressed in thick, black armor, hulking muscles and deep voices, but soft hands underneath the gauntlets.

The problem, as with many of my stories that I haven't yet written, is that I don't know what I would do for a story. I really like the world and it's implications, and I want to know more about it. But what exactly is going on outside the world of this one man is unclear to me.