Broken thoughts of a lost soul

Recently, she had been thinking of the word marooned a lot. She remembered she had learned the word in school. It was in a pirate story. She was sad for the poor sod who got marooned on that sad sack island. But, since then, every time she thought of the word ‘marooned’, she had images of darker hues of red and someone trapped in it. It was like watching a man roam around with lonely eyes and lonelier expressions in the smoky maze of red. It was demure. She closed her eyes and tried to think of blue, yellow, green...black. And the black stuck. The silence in that colour struck her conscious like a piece of ice on a hot summer day. It encompassed all the thoughts and swirled about finding debris and sucking them in. All that was left now in the hollow of her reminisces was blackness. It was calm. It was peaceful. She slept.