There once was a town named GreyVille, and, as you can probably guess, the people there were grey. Colors did not even exist in the common man’s dictionary, including colors like: bright greens, vivacious violets, burdensome blues, or even courageous reds. They were simply grey, void of all feelings.
Now, in GreyVille, no one was accepted if they had even the tint of color to their skin. If they inherited the slightest shade of any color, they would be considered unclean, alien, and even rebellious to Mother Nature herself, and any kind of rebellion was tolerated in this town. But, in all honesty, the officials there were simply scared of the Colorfuls because they had something that the Greys did not.
So, the Colorfuls were sent to a town just nearby, which, come to think of it, wasn’t really a town at all. It was a freak show.
The people lived in their own, small, Stuck-O, grey houses alone because why should they talk to others when, keeping to themselves might prevent further pain, or separation. Here in whatever-you-want-to-call-it, silence thrived, creating it’s own kind of monster. It roamed in the streets where the Colorfuls should have been.
There was, though, one little girl who just would not allow her life to be controlled by selfish people. She -her name being unpronounceable in our poorly constructed language of English- thought that the silence wasn’t a very good friend at all. How could anyone be a good friend if you couldn’t talk them? Her skin was a colorful red which caught the eye of anyone remotely dangerous, her hair was the faintest of yellows, and her lips were the blue of a crisp evening night. The little girl was beautiful, yet no one seemed to notice her.
This was when she made her decision, a choice to go into GreyVille at only age thirteen. A brave little one she was to stand up to all those void people; it was frowned upon to go into GreyVille alone because, without emotions, people had no morals. They were dangerous. At first, she was so scared that her skin began to fade to violet, but then, she realized something. The little girl realized that, if the people had nothing inside of them, then there was nothing to be afraid of.
This is how she began her adventure:
The little girl simply touched the arm of everyone she passed by. Every time she lifter her tiny, fragile fingers, a stain of color was left behind. Well, to be precise, the color that the individual would show, if they could show any amount of color. When the individual was fully formed, they would bump into other people and share their color just as the little girl did.
And do the Color Epidemic began.
(The records show the epidemic went on for a little over four months.)
At the end of those long months, everything changed. The sun showed its yellow-orange beams, and the clouds erupted and sprayed down blue droplets of rain. When the sun set each night, it turned the sky a beautiful red.
As you may begin to become bored with this well, repetetive and largely predictable story, I must inform you that the little girl was written down in the town’s history books. Not as a hero, but as a missing person. For, finally, when all was said and done, the girl had used all of her color.
She. . .