Jason has synesthesia. When the coffee roastery fan hums below his Portland loft, he sees deep indigo swirling into violet, then amber. When his adoptive father Ben makes hot chocolate with exactly three-quarters teaspoon of cinnamon, Jason sees warm orange. Sounds create colors. Smells create colors. His brain connects senses in ways most people never experience. Six months ago, Jason was in a foster home where his strangeness was tolerated but never understood. Now he lives above Ben's specialty coffee shop, in a home where his synesthesia is celebrated, where Ben reads everything about it, asks him to describe colors, and never makes him feel broken. The adoption papers hang framed on the kitchen counter—proof this belonging is real. But tomorrow is his first day at Lincoln Elementary's third grade. And Jason is terrified. Hallways filled with children. Bells ringing. Cafeterias buzzing with a hundred conversations. The thought creates sharp red zigzags across his vision—the color of alarm, of uncertainty. What if the bells are too loud? What if all the voices talking at once make the colors get mixed up and overwhelming? What if he's too weird to fit in? Ben helps him understand something important: Jason's synesthesia follows patterns. The roasting fan is always C-sharp, always indigo-to-violet-to-amber. The coffee grinder is the same frequency every time. Those sounds terrified Jason at first—chaotic splashes of color that made his skin prickle. But he learned to predict them, understand them. Now they're comforting. They anchor him. School will be the same. Right now it's all unknown colors, unpredictable sounds. But once Jason learns the patterns—when bells ring, where each class is, which kids are kind—the colors will start to make sense. On his first day, Jason discovers this is true. The morning bell creates sharp yellow, exactly as he imagined. Numbers in math class follow patterns and rules that don't care if you're weird. The cafeteria is exactly as chaotic as he feared—but underneath the chaos, there's rhythm. The lunch line flows predictably. Tables are arranged the same way. Even overwhelming situations have patterns if you look correctly. And then Marcus appears. A boy who hums while he works, creating gentle blue Jason finds soothing. A boy who accepts Jason exactly as he is, who talks about numbers and patterns and doesn't ask why Jason seems anxious. Marcus's voice creates warm green—unusual but pleasant—and his acceptance creates a color Jason doesn't have a name for. Something like golden peace. Like belonging. By the end of the day, Jason realizes: his synesthesia isn't just a barrier. It's a tool. It helped him notice Marcus's kindness in the warmth of his green voice. It helped him navigate cafeteria chaos by finding patterns underneath. His difference—which felt like it made him wrong—actually helps him see the world in beautiful, valuable ways. Perfect for ages 9-12 This story explores: Neurodivergence as difference, not deficitSensory processing challenges and learning to manage themFinding patterns in overwhelming situationsThe courage to show up as yourself when you're scaredChosen family and adoptionUnderstanding that "different" isn't "wrong"Your unique perspective as a superpowerA warm, hopeful story about a boy with synesthesia learning that the way his brain works—seeing sounds as colors, experiencing the world through connected senses—isn't something to hide or fix. It's a beautiful lens that helps him notice things others miss, find rhythms in chaos, and recognize kindness when it appears. Runtime: 18:27 Part of the Fables Adventures collection - stories for young listeners learning that their neurodivergent minds aren't broken. They're different. And different, with the right people who celebrate it, is amazing. To read the full text of this story, visit us at Fable's Adventures ✨ Want to create your own stories? Download the Fable’sAdventures app for iOS
