This is a little piece for a contest on deviantart.

If you are unfamiliar with the theme, I'll let you know that Malik's "hidden talent" is called synesthesia.

I myself do not have this "Sixth sense", sadly, but my husband does. It is fairly amazing when you discover that two senses are hooked.

Thank you to my beta Nevar23. :)

Since the death of my brother Kadar, it has grown stronger. It makes me feel helpless as a child. Again.

Most of my life I tried to avoid this feeling. I contrived a habit for defending myself against it, highly specialized. But now it has come back, more clearly than ever.

For as long as I can remember, I have been able to see... differently. Undetected by others, it wasn't unpleasant, so I just lived with it. It didn't occur to me that I was different. Being a naive child I had assumed that everybody had this ability.
But I was wrong. I had to learn that, eventually.

"What's your name?"

"Malik."

I used to play together with boys of my age and older in the streets of my hometown. Everything was fine, I had fun, it was a blissful childhood.

"Give me those," one of the boys spoke to me. I had a set of marbles in my hand, opening it slightly so the tiny and colored objects came into view.

We played for some time till we grew bored and simply watched the passers-by weaving their way through the streets of Jerusalem to wherever their destiny was.
I lost track of time and my surroundings, feeling completely serene. So without a second thought I asked the question that sprang to my mind.

"What color is your three?"

The boy turned his head with a scowl. Realizing that he did not understand at all where my question was headed, I stuttered some more words.

"I... I mean the number three... Yours is red, too… isn't it?"

I got a look from the boy that I'll never forget. His eyes gave away the feelings his voice wasn't yet ready to describe. I assumed his mental state was disturbed, to say the least.

After growing the size of the moon, his eyes changed to two mere slits, filled with worry, confusion and simple aversion at last.

Totally bewildered he retorted: "Are you crazy?"

After that incident I immediately stopped asking such questions. Embarrassed and afraid of being ridiculed I kept my condition to myself. I did not even dare to consult Al Mualim. I had buried it back then, deep in my mind, afraid to be marked off as abnormal or obsessed.

Almost twenty years later the blending of senses is back again. My mind involuntarily floods my sight with immediate sensations of intense and vivid colors every time I lay my eyes on a mere number or letter or a simple part of one of the numerous maps strewn here at the bureau.

I recently discovered that even the names of days or months fuse with colors, creating a surreal new world.

Is it a malady? I think so. I have not yet found a cure for it. No, instead my desperate effort to keep it from surfacing as much as possible, didn't work out. The repression did not solve my problem. The traces remain, but I cannot locate their source.

I tried to push it down with the help of self-imposed sleep deprivation. That didn't work either, but I have to keep trying! One tactic has to prove successful, because these bright and distinct colors drive me crazy. They possess me.

Petulantly I let out the breath I held. My past is catching up with me. I feel sick to my stomach. Did my bereavement over Kadar overwhelm my successful repression of the problem?

I never imagined that there would be a time when I would be glad to see Altair show up. But now he drops through the opening in the roof producing a dull sound, striding with his characteristic gait towards my desk, forcing my distressed feeling away with only his presence.

"Safety and peace, my friend." He casually leans against the counter, fingering my ink pot tentatively.

"To you as well. Is everything fine at Masyaf?" Despite my current disordered state of mind I try to have a pleasant conversation, thinking maybe it will lead me to feeling a little more eased.

We actually talk amicably and comfortably for some time before Altair moves to start his current mission.

"I'm on my way, Malik. Thankfully the rainy season is over and I'll be untroubled by any interfering storm or downpour." Grabbing an apple from a nearby table he disengages himself from our meeting. I observe him turning to the doorway, my eyes adjusting to the blinding rays of the sun behind him, streaming through the roof. My foul thoughts suddenly seem to have vanished and my last words leave my lips unconsciously.

"Yes, you are lucky. Today is a beautiful yellow…"