Open

Pull a pail of sparkles from the stone well. Shave crème from the blue sky. The ocean is reaching out for you.

Climb the eternal tree at dawn. Share secrets with the fish in the deep. Finish a work of art sitting on the easel for decades.

Kiss the face of a goddess. Walk on Spanish tiles in bare feet. Hear me whisper from across the world.

For so many lifetimes, since the father of creation rubbed us together from clumps of clay, we have been opening our baby eyes.

Some of us unfold slowly to the light. Some of us need time to believe it's true.

We are allowed to exist.

As we are.

The Burnt Crown

Autumn woke up. He reddened nine leaves in his favorite valley and put a field of flowers to sleep on the mountainside.

Autumn found Summer at the fairy tree. He burnt the leaves gold on the branches and in her hair.

Then Autumn went to sleep again.

None approached Summer while she wore autumn colors. None interested Summer after Autumn’s morning quickie.

Summer laid in a clover patch outside Autumn’s underworld entrance. She crept closer in the moonlight and sniffed at his door, but Autumn slept soundly within.

The fact was, Autumn woke up for a night a couple weeks ago, colored a few leaves, planted a few seeds, and went back to bed. Autumn’s work came first in his life.

Summer didn’t know how to handle being No. 2.

Autumn knew how to handle Summer.


This post is part of the Poetry Jam's call for humor, which was brought on by Evelyn.

This is the 9th part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

The Motivating Taste of Honey

A swarm of bees funnel over the land. No one knocked their nest about or stole their honey. Summer snuck into the hive last night while the queen was asleep and grabbed hold of everyone’s stingers.

And now tempers are heating up. The bees are drunk off a one-night stand.

The bees flex and growl so that all who live on the land notice they are buzzing for a fight, willing to take on anyone making a claim on Summer. At the apex of this taunting, the Wind or Rain or Fire will swat the bees out of their sexual stupor.

Of course, Summer will be criticized by the crows in the trees and men without the courage to approach her. Summer finds a certain humor in man’s fear of the unknown. When God changed Summer into the season she had to give up being a human, and most of being human, as Summer learned quickly, was the weight of worry.

Summer does not worry anymore. She is the greatest fertility goddess in the world. Summer provides something worth experiencing to any who let go of power when they grab hold of her waist, to any who do not care what the crows say for undressing with her in the tall grass.  

Summer has another month to live before sleeping in Autumn’s arms. Summer is alive in late August with the taste of honey in her mouth.



For dVerse's Third Eye Open.

This is the 8th part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

Blogging Again

Blogging again routinely has been fun. I’m healthier and perhaps happier when I’m writing more consistently, though I do enjoy my breaks. Maybe it keeps my mind focused on fun places I like to imagine and not on things in this world I can’t change, like the fact that I’m still living between family and friends.

I miss living alone, being financially independent. I hate being a constant guest, though my family is on vacation and I am living alone for a month. But I have built this life myself since I was the one who turned down a couple job offers this year: the AOL job for Patch I tried out a couple times and a reporter’s position at a very good weekly newspaper.

The reason I turned them down is that I want to finish the project I’ve been working on all year, a multi-media story about my local animal shelter where I volunteered for about three years. It’s a very meaningful project to me. I am so grateful to have an amazing editor working with me. Right now, I am receiving data via the Freedom of Information Act to complete the project.

I can’t wait to share when it publishes late in the year.

Personally, I’m good. I’m recently in a relationship and we’re having a very good summer.

I’m going to be going through some changes at my website and blog soon, but hopefully there won’t be too much dust during reconstruction.

And thanks for all the sugar for The Seasons series:)

Garden Shadows

The earth is an old woman in her garden, doing the work, with dirt between her toes and fingers tipped with flowers, sugaring the land with water and laughter. 

The bears bring their young here. The monarchs breed here. The wolf pups play by the river.

The sunflower was born here, and so was every other flower.

I know where the raspberry bushes are loaded and sunlight trickles through mint leaves. A pumpkin patch grows every night. 

A stand of trees holds a sofa high in its branches. The old woman will sit with us and rub her feet at twilight. 

Later, while the world sleeps, we'll walk the stone path into each other's lives.

My touch is warm in the garden shadows. My heart is true.




For Open Link Night at dVerse.


This is the 7th part of The Seasons, a love letter from Spring to Summer. Here's the next part. 

The Forest in the Sky

The stars hang on giant black forest trees. The father of creation planted the forest before the beginning of time and now the trees fill the universe. He smithed the stars between his fingertips, lit them with his breath and placed them in the crooks of the great branches.

The stars squawked if placed too far away from earth. The old man answered the loudmouths by filling the back rows first so their light could get a jumpstart.

The stars were meant to decorate the giant forest trees, but the stars ended up as the sensation. No one noticed the ancient, magical branches holding up the stars, and so the trees naturally gave way and became invisible over time, choosing instead to reflect the glow of their own popular ornaments.

Winter, undistracted beneath her clear skies, saw this history beyond the moon and fell in love with the forest.

But Winter could not leave without leaving someone in charge. Winter controlled Fire. Winter ruled Rain. Only the wind was loose in the dead of winter, and so the Wind took charge while Winter went away.

Winter travelled to the secret forest in the sky, and the trees embraced her. The branches held her. The forest loved her in a way only a magic forest could.

Winter felt more special than ever dusting the black forest behind the stars. 

That first season the forest took her away, snow creatures paying attention wondered whether Winter would return to meet Spring. Truth was, she didn’t, at least not right away. Spring started growing babies in the land without going through Winter first.

But Winter came quickly, and Spring smiled when she did. Winter did that with Spring.


This is the sixth part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

Summer of Loves

Fire loved Summer. Fire roasted the land when Summer arrived, and Summer had to make friends with the Wind to keep the land alive. Fire filled Summer’s sky with his smoke, making gray markings on her face until the Rain washed it all away, for the Rain loved Summer, too.

Of course, just like everyone else, the Wind also fell in love with Summer.

And so Summer decided she had had enough of balancing between strong elements. One year, after another blooming love affair with Spring but before Autumn made his appearance, Summer took Fire as a lover, and also the Rain. When the Wind stopped coming around because he felt jilted, Summer sought him out and became lovers with the Wind as well.

Summer became a sexual goddess. The largest buck searched for her at dawn in the meadows, and found her. The broadest eagle soared to the highest mountaintop where Summer ravished him, and after Summer released the screaming eagle into her night’s sky Summer ravished the mountain.

The first season of Summer’s love affairs was the wettest, hottest, steamiest summer ever on earth. “The summer of loves,” God chuckled.

And just when the blackbirds were jawing that Summer was out of control, Autumn showed up. All in pursuit of Summer backed away, and every creature stopped doing his or her early fall duties to watch and see what Autumn might do in a fit of rage. Autumn strolled through the meadows and smelled what had transpired, and Autumn stepped over the mountaintop and understood what had happened. Autumn felt the joy in the Wind and the radiant spark to the Fire and extra freshness of the raindrops. 

Autumn approached his flower queen in their favorite forest. Summer cared for nothing at the moment but her October lover, and that’s all Autumn wanted to know. All was right with the world. 

This is the fifth part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

The Land, the Tree, the Wolves, and the Babies

Spring was the first to speak to the land, to make it laugh, to make it smile. Spring was the first to make the land love. 

The land grew flowers and buds on trees in the hopes of gaining the affection of Spring, and Spring gave the land just enough attention to produce life. Spring coaxed seedling children from the land with a whisper. The land opened her arms and released her babies through her surface as Spring called to them.

Sometimes Winter and Summer grew jealous of the land's relationship with Spring. Sometimes Winter would blow in late under a sheet of ice, frosting the land and killing the seedling children. Sometimes Summer would arrive early and burn the life out of the seedlings with her hot sun. 

Autumn tucked the land to bed. Autumn brushed the mane of the Wolf King as his pack burrowed dens in the cooling land. Autumn’s touch put the land and the wolves and all the seedlings to sleep. Autumn was content with a simple look of love from the land, for Autumn did not like too much attention. Autumn pruned the branches of the tree of life, which was the delicate artwork that decided which buds eventually bloomed and which didn’t. Only Autumn and the land knew this, for Autumn had many secrets with the land, including hiding seedlings and pups here or there, always protecting against a bitter Winter, which Autumn knew so well.

Autumn swept the land with his eyebrows, colored the land pretty with kisses, and promised her many babies when she woke up. And Autumn always kept that promise, and so the land grew to trust Autumn in a special way, which was another secret between the land and Autumn.

Winter and Summer both knew they couldn’t kill too many babies or God might grow unhappy. Both Summer and Winter liked their positions in the world very much and didn't want to be replaced.  

The truth was, Summer was a nurturing woman who loved the land's babies as she raised them, and the land grew to rely on Summer. But Winter was a natural destroyer, for creation does not exist without destruction and Winter knew it.

Winter did her whipping on the land with a smile on her face. There were secret stashes of sleeping life and Winter loved to search, for Autumn gave up quality information but never the most important details, which kept Winter hungry and searching.

Winter liked to drop a layer of snow on the land so she didn’t have to look at the land, but Winter also did this to insulate the babies and protect the land from Winter’s own wrath. Winter understood the futility of attempting to reduce our own personal power. If it is in our nature to strike, then we will strike. Best not fool ourselves that we can refrain from striking. Best prepare others and ourselves for the strike, which, curiously, often deadens the strike.

Winter was brilliant, and the land was grateful.


This is the fourth part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

Four Super High Maintenance People

Spring, like all the seasons, was so much happier as a season. When Spring was a man, he entered parties and everyone felt better about their decision to attend. Women threw themselves at his feet. Spring created laughter wherever he went and nobody got enough of him. He was everyone’s best friend. Spring built community naturally.

Spring created life.

Summer was super sexy. When Summer was a woman, she showed off lots of skin in all the right ways and the men stared helplessly. Summer created admirers wherever she went. Only the brave approached her, and so Summer only knew men in the prime of life.

And Summer made those men sweat.

Autumn was dark and mysterious. When Autumn was a man, he chased away merriment and commotion wherever he went. When Autumn came around, it was like a ghost town. Those who weren’t scared away got to know Autumn and adored him, especially his darkness and his rich colors as he gave his life energy to his art.

Autumn created masterpieces.

Winter was frigid. When Winter was a woman and felt sunny, everyone became happy and gave thanks because those days were fewer than the overcast days. Not many men could live through her coldness and enjoy her. But for those who could, Winter was truly a breath of fresh air. Winter was unlike anyone else. 

Winter was magically beautiful.


For Open Link Night at dVerse.

This is the third part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

Freeze Marks and Evaporation

Winter grabbed the world from Autumn, and Autumn had no choice but to give it up. Autumn had always been that way. Autumn could never say no to Winter. Winter liked to drop her coat on Autumn's world, thaw, run wet, and freeze again. 

Winter warmed with Spring. Winter felt Spring grow in her. Spring knew he melted Winter's world. Spring licked at Winter's secret freeze marks.

Summer took Spring to another level of life. Spring felt Summer’s first heat and opened up completely. Spring rained on Summer, and Summer sucked it back up into her sky.

Autumn could always talk to Summer, and Summer could relax with Autumn. Autumn soothed Summer’s stroke and cooled her world. Summer's embers died in Autumn.


This is the second part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

The Secrets of Donkey Dung

Once upon a time, two women and two men became the best of friends. Then they paired up and became two sets of lovers. But they had secret affairs with each other that didn’t stay secret and their friendships were all ruined beyond repair.

Cast out of society, the four asked God for forgiveness, and God granted them forgiveness. Then God, being in a playful mood, asked what else they might like.

Ready and hoping God would ask, the four responded: They wanted nothing more than to touch both of their lovers for the rest of time, and since God was asking, they also would like to exist in peace with the one they wronged but not see much of him or her. 

God, not liking to be painted into a corner but also enjoying the sight of sparks within his creations, made an offer.

God offered to change them into four piles of donkey dung that would eventually seep into the earth and help create life, and maybe the leaves of the weeds that grew from the dung would touch each other as the wind blew. And there would also be bushes nearby to obstruct the view.

But God scrunched his face and thought again and said he was not excited about this idea because he would have to coordinate with the wind and worms and weather. Much too much work.

But the four begged God to reconsider.

They said they did not mind living short lives and dying many deaths to rub up against both of their lovers again and again.

God said that since the four were willing to start out as dung for what they wanted, he was going to give them something a little better but still everything they asked for.

And God joined their hands so that both women faced each other and both men faced each other in a circle. And only after both men and both women could look in the other's eyes and be at peace with the other and themselves, God made them famous and changed them into the seasons.


For The Purple Treehouse

This is the first part of The Seasons. Here's the next part.

Gathering

I know the strengths and weaknesses of all my men. I know who tends to rise to the occasion. I know who keeps calm under fire. I know who moves quickly, and where exactly my best scout is sniffing the wind.

My own strength and weakness is my calculated recklessness.

I am of the classic model. My counterpart is stronger, but I am willing to sacrifice myself, which inspires my men and together we have the ability to repel the enemy.

My death is a weapon the enemy should fear most, but he does not, and so it is my most powerful weapon.

It is this army I lead that has a chance and every wise man in every galaxy knows it. For years I have been moving men into place.

I will be gone, rest assured. Before then, another night under the stars, my love. I will silence the guns again. I will pay your price here where the hammer falls.

For one more night, I will forget my destiny.

Advancing

I retired them all from their work, hacking at my flesh, raking me over the coals, depriving me of sleep in my own torture room. I walked down the center aisle of my pirate ship dredging my own poisoned river and tapped each of my oarsmen on the shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, I gave them the day off.

All my life these men have done my holy will. I have stood atop this chauffeured Bradley Jeep just behind the blistering front lines with a cigar affixed between my teeth. I have oozed with pride watching my men torch everything. For I have brought war, and the battleground has been this blessed life of mine.

We opened up craters in the great frontier. We bombed the bridges to our homeland. We scorched the land and sky so many times.

The stories I could tell. The lessons I have learned. The accomplished general I have become, and I am just beginning to learn my abilities. We are just beginning to apply some pressure to the enemy.

We are just beginning to enjoy success.

As you can imagine, this is a very exciting time in my army.

So I suspect meaning in finding you beyond the smoke, just as we advanced further into enemy territory than ever before.

This day I will spend with you, and this night, too. I have quieted the guns so we may hear silence under the sun. Tonight, I’ll spread the stars in the sky from my general’s tent, for I have powers, as the enemy has learned and you will soon see.

Today is a well-earned day off from the campaign.

 My men and I return to work tomorrow.

Tomorrow, the war resumes.

But today, we planted a forest for you, and kissed you gently.

The Split of Colors

This is the 18th and final part of The Colors. Here's the beginning.

The theft of Slate Gray’s lampshades qualified as intrigue and Blue, by virtue of his birth order, was ahead of the pack when it came to imagining the potential fame available to him if he moved to capitalize. When Blue announced he would be conducting an investigation into the matter, interest in the event plummeted, if for no other reason than accuracy was bound to be as much of a victim in the narrated story as the lampshades had been.

Blue largely confirmed that common sense would play little role in his findings by the manner in which he launched the investigation: He showed up at Pink’s flat in Paris with an alleged list of questions as to her whereabouts at the time of the theft. The official reason for Blue’s visit was to ask questions. The real reason for his visit was to blend, a fact immediately obvious to Pink.

The thought of blending with Blue again released that river of beautiful poppycock intimating they would end up together, and Pink understood the powerful opportunity she was receiving in the way of shaping her destiny with this decision. Pink wanted so badly to live in that beautiful flood of poppycock and blend with Blue, but she couldn’t find herself in that hurtful place again and its associated recovery time. When Pink informed the doorman to turn Blue away, Blue was stunned. Pink had chosen wisely and was beginning a new leg in her journey seeking happiness, and no one was happier for Pink than Ultra Pink who received news of Pink’s turning Blue away from Pink herself phoning for the first time in weeks.

News of Blue’s attempt to interview Pink over the lampshades spread and everyone understood Blue’s motivation. Of course, it was heavy criticism accusing Blue of using the pretext of an illegitimate investigation to try and blend with Pink, and Blue perhaps rightly denied it was true, although it was true and everyone knew it was true but no one cared, except Blue who thought everyone cared. The real crime of Blue’s investigation wasn’t his immoral behavior. The spectators were used to that. The real crime centered around giving attention to Blue’s alleged investigation instead of focusing on Slate Gray's coming out of nowhere to garner the approval of colors everywhere. Slate Gray had leadership abilities, it was agreed. But one must remember that Slate Gray was an artist. He gave a glimpse behind the scenes of society and gained fame but pulling back that curtain can be risky business, or so artists may claim. And now Slate Gray was retired from that sort of thing. He was going to enjoy the rest of his life in private and no one was going to fault him for such an attitude, except perhaps Electric Pink. 

Without Slate Gray as a leader, the colors were forced to endure the entertainment of Blue’s investigation, a gift to Red and burden to helpless spectators. So Blue was presented with a fresh round of boos and suggestions to retire to his mountaintop, prompting Blue to go into what was clearly a rehearsed response to criticism in general.

Perhaps speaking of brewing criticism, this writer would like to make mention of the length of this final chapter and narrative to follow and assure the reader it was approved not to annoy, although annoyance is a likely reaction, but because the end of the first age of the colors cannot be told without summarizing a disagreement between Blue and Powder Blue over who was more unappealing. Blue was feeling especially down after his blending debacle with Red and what he considered a sure thing at Pink’s, leaving Storm Gray to take Blue out with the intention of perking up his mood. 

Storm Gray brought Blue to an after party at Tangerine’s place, but Blue was reluctant to enter and confessed to Storm Gray outside that he didn’t want to be turned away at the door as he was feeling especially toxic. Storm Gray just shrugged and slapped Blue on the shoulder and waltzed right into Tangerine’s place to nothing but smiles and big hellos, and when Blue heard the big hellos and witnessed the smiles, he feared they were putting on airs, so he was very polite and generally quiet and even guarded, and things seemed to proceed nicely because when Blue concentrates on being polite he isn’t so captive to his jackass tendencies.

It so happened that Powder Blue was in attendance at Tangerine’s party. When Powder Blue saw Blue, he approached and launched into his grievances. Few colors in attendance would claim Powder Blue was not motivated by the audience he was gaining.

What made the onslaught so very gruesome, it was later agreed, was Blue’s reluctance to engage, for he was continuing what was at first his successful guarded interaction with others.

The fact was, Blue couldn’t believe his luck. He was welcomed into this cool after party with all sorts of colors all over the place and Blue was happy – legitimately happy – to say hello to other colors while he passed in and out of rooms so there was no pressure to keep up a conversation. It was this rich social experience that would fuel Blue’s resurrection. Blue knew this to be true. And then a certain outrageous prick gets in his face and starts barking.

According to Powder Blue, Blue’s first disappearance meant that others, notably Powder Blue, had to “step up” into a leadership position, which Powder Blue was not constructed to do. Nevertheless, he had done it. And that showed the lengths to which he, as well as Royal Blue for that matter, would go for the benefit of the herd. And where was Blue? Off scratching his ass, that’s where.

Powder Blue felt his reputation rebuilt with every verbal bomb he dropped on Blue in front of this clearly hip crowd. So bombs away was the motto of Powder Blue at Tangerine’s.

Blue watched Powder Blue approach the line of regrettable behavior, cross it, and keep going. Blue felt the surging urge to respond without going off like a firecracker and so, without raising his voice, without theatrics and ultimatums, Blue said, “At least I took my lumps.”

Well, Powder Blue let Blue walk away, and that was because Powder Blue needed to concentrate while quelling a facial tick that erupted following Blue’s spot-on remark. As it happens, the cure for quieting the facial tick was becoming angry at Blue.

Powder Blue found Blue in the kitchen chatting with Evergreen and a smattering of other colors opening cabinets and the refrigerator to see what was available for consumption. Blue glanced at Powder Blue, forgot what he was saying to Evergreen as he registered Powder Blue’s presence but then quickly returned to his point in conversation and kept his eyes away from Powder Blue, who was basically boring holes in the side of Blue’s face. Not looking at someone staring at you is mighty difficult, especially when the lovely Evergreen can’t help but notice, and so Blue, buzzed and fatigued and also on stage in front of a pretty color, located Powder Blue a mere couple feet away and, feeling better that Storm Gray was nearby, said, “What’s your problem?”

This was exactly the invitation Powder Blue was looking for. Powder Blue stepped snuggly up to Blue, which brought Storm Gray and Tropical Blue into the mix and caused Evergreen to be edged aside. Words followed, mostly along the line of who was the biggest piece of poop. Powder Blue shocked everyone by challenging Blue to step outside. Unfortunately, Yellow had left for home earlier in the evening, but other colors, led by Tangerine, attempted to mediate and said there would be no violence. However, Powder Blue’s constant pointing to the door without anyone else taking charge caused the colors to inevitably look to Blue as to whether he would accept this challenge or not, and finally, feeling the pressure, Blue did accept the challenge. Outside, Powder Blue put Blue away and it wasn’t even close. Blue had raised his hands in an effort to mimic a traditional sparring position but he was run over roughshod. So Blue had taken his lumps from Red and now he had taken them from Powder Blue. That’s what Powder Blue said while Blue was on the ground collecting himself. 

Tangerine alternately held an ice pack to Blue’s eyes and nose with the most loving touch in the privacy of her bedroom for 45 minutes afterward. Blue, with his head on her lap, gazed upward through his black eyes, wondering if this maze of life was all about getting bounced around here and there, taking his lumps, making plays for the wrong colors until, finally, he finds her here, applying ice to his busted face. Blue, arguably at the low point in his lowly career as firstborn, unwittingly defined the first age of the colors with a remark intended to do nothing but tactically facilitate blending with Tangerine at a later date. What Blue said and Tangerine subsequently repeated to everyone was: Generally speaking, the colors can be divided into those who use ass whoopins' and their threat as a tool of interaction, including those who condone them, and those who are blessed and know better, or are weak.

It was observed by many that Green originally provided the insight long ago but likely out of sympathy for Blue’s busted face he was given official credit. Perhaps the most accurate way to describe Blue's role is that he brought the message to the masses. In this writer's opinion, the first age of the colors closed about the time Blue was off baking cupcakes through black eyes while White was sought out for his opinion on such a broad theory and, after blending with Tangerine and bragging about it, White added as a caveat that Blue’s worldview was indeed overly simple but at the same time not necessarily inaccurate.

Slate Gray's Lampshades

After the beat down of White, Red inherited a justifiably updated reputation indicating arrogance and paranoia. The irony was that Red brought this reputation on herself at a time when she was on top of the world of colors, and so this writer is left to wonder if we truly have free will with such energetic shifts prompting what might be called predictable actions on our part. How quickly things can change, which we have undoubtedly already learned from Green. 

After discovering and displaying her newfound conjuring powers, Green spoke candidly, which was perhaps inevitable. The irony is that this speaking candidly earned Green significantly less popularity, so if one were inclined one might make the argument that Green’s newfound powers were sort of balanced out by Green’s newfound social position. Let’s take a look at Red, too. Red’s acting violently might have only happened while experiencing a power void, which Red felt after Green was roundly redefined by the colors as a no challenger to Red. Or maybe it was just a weird day that day for everyone.

The aforementioned thoughts are just that, although a more carefully crafted theory about the nature of the colors simply does not exist.

Threats to Red’s power were brewing, but she couldn’t locate them, thus fueling her paranoia. There is little disagreement that Red’s paranoia and arrogance preceded Slate Gray. Slate Gray was considered a bit of an artist and had been living in a suite in the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas. Slate Gray didn’t quite move into Green’s neighborhood but rather up the street, conjuring a smattering of picturesque cabins nestled among pine and birch trees. Slate Gray offered residency to any color interested in living nearby to one another and making black and white art inspired from the history of the colors and ongoing controversies.

Red actually laughed when she heard about Slate Gray’s activity, and of course she came to regret not only underestimating Slate Gray’s idea but moreover poo-pooing it, and that was because seven colors nearly immediately accepted Slate Gray’s offer and filled up his cabins. Red believed she was witnessing the embryonic stages of a network, as surely the artists from Slate Gray’s cabins would have tea and mingle with the crew in Green’s garden regularly. This view of a network emerging was fortified when Slate Gray suggested a network of artists and volunteers was emerging. At Slate Gray’s party, the shady blues sent a message and spit on all the lampshades. 

This was scary to witness during the party, but Slate Gray crystalized the lamp shades and assembled them into what qualified, according to those with paintbrushes, as art. Slate Gray placed the artwork halfway between his cabins and Green's garden and of course vandals tagged it before it was stolen altogether. The most unfortunate part of this saga, and this writer can state such a fact confidently knowing the opinion of nearly every color in existence then and now, may very well be that the theft prompted an investigation performed by the color most unqualified to be asking questions of absolutely anyone, a certain firstborn color whose name very nearly and quite appropriately rhymes with poo.

Here's the next part.

The Powers of Green

The colors don’t like to talk politics, but when they do they usually have something in particular to say.

The colors demanded to know where Green planned to put all the studio apartments. This was their concern. Light Blue with the help of Green conjured his studio apartment in downtown Detroit and that was fine by everyone but they were concerned how additional studios conjured in their own cities might change the character of the surroundings.

Green appeared empathetic before pledging to help conjure a home wherever a color so desired. Green’s lack of empathy following feigning empathy demonstrated Red’s weapon of choice these days: Patience. Unforced errors were becoming the hallmark of the upstart crowd. In fact, Green’s star fell as heartily as it had risen. Green could have had it all is how Red viewed the proceedings but the reality was Green didn't value popularity. Green seemed to care mostly about shaming the colors for caring more about urban ambiance than whether their brothers and sisters sleep inside or outside. A couple colors considered marginally articulate objected to Green’s worldview, saying they were happy Green was assisting with conjuring homes for those who can’t, but the colors’ identity was based on where they lived and they couldn’t risk disruption with dense housing. 

The suggestion was bandied about that Green should conjure the studio apartments all in one place, create a whole new city, maybe out in the middle of the desert, and after more commotion over the prospect of a new city and how forward-thinking and humane that might be, Green quieted everyone with a look around and reminded each color within earshot that she planned to conjure homes for colors who can’t by themselves wherever they so happened to desire. As stated, Green’s star dimmed without delay.

Red was reassured as to the natural order of things, noting that she hadn’t felt the need to administer an ass-whoopin’ since she was forced to remove Blue from power at the beginning of time. And with Green securely labeled an oddball, Red felt the presence of no threats. So while the colors were talking among themselves and firming up the storyline of Green and Light Blue and what was to come in the way of studio apartments, Red quietly found White and served him a series of lumps.

Here's the next part.

Yellow and Blue

Blue was beginning to realize he might have some issues to deal with, if he so chose, like the fact that he was jealous of Dark Blue’s color, which indicated both vanity and a general unhappiness with himself. Also, he didn’t love the proverbial one he was with, which happened to be Orange these days, indicating he misled others and even himself. Basically, Blue was fearful of everything he hoped to attain, which happened to be Green this week, or even some other exotic shade of color he hadn’t yet met. He was open to this possibility as well.

Blue reassured himself that having psychological issues was okay because, in all likelihood, amazingly dynamic personalities in all walks of life have shorts in the wiring somewhere or other all the time.

So it was a combination of admitting he had problems, telling himself it was okay to have problems, believing he was going to overcome his problems and demanding from the universe that a beautiful color be waiting for him at the end of this process that motivated Blue, at least to take the first step, which is the hardest step to take, as they say.

For Blue, the first step was approaching Yellow for a friendship. When Yellow asked why Blue wanted to be better friends, Blue thought it was a question she would judge him on and so he rambled about peripheral issues, like the fact that he believed he was good at conversation starters and the obvious advantages of friends with benefits.

Yellow reassured Blue that she wanted to be friends – only friends – and was happy Blue took the initiative, but Blue was upset at himself for not having a better answer prepared for such an obvious question. He was so exhausted at being defined by his jackass tendencies, even if only in his own mind. Incredibly, Blue confessed this primal fear of his, and Yellow, who had never seen the vulnerable side of Blue and now understood why her sister Green loved Blue, offered Blue medication in the hopes of hanging out further. So Blue and Yellow medicated in Yellow’s sun room all afternoon. And Blue and Yellow, while medicated, shared the same unspoken feeling that they would either be very close friends for the duration of their lives or they would blend one day and let the proverbial chips fall where they may, as they say.

Then Electric Pink stopped by for her daily rolling papers and Blue forgot all about Yellow, not because Electric Pink was incredibly beautiful. She certainly was, but no more beautiful than Yellow. Electric Pink brought news that a miracle had just happened, which served as a reminder to Yellow and Blue that a lot can happen in an afternoon, raising disturbing possibilities when one considers all the time one may have spent medicated. For the record, only Blue considered those disturbing possibilities. Yellow was quite content with her situation.

As everyone knew and everyone forgot as the end of the story, Green allowed Light Blue to live in her garden, which was officially Green, Yellow, Electric Pink, Mikado Yellow and Cobalt Blue’s garden. For the record, a color lives outside when he or she cannot conjure a home of his own, for it is believed, to use Blue's expression, that the wiring is off in the colors living outside, thus preventing them from doing any conjuring. After a week in Green’s garden, Light Blue, with the help of Green, was able to conjure a home of his own, a modest studio apartment.  

This narrative contradicted the official explanation that Light Blue and the others preferred living on the street. Red was said to be preparing a response to what the colors were already calling Green's newly discovered prophetic powers, according to Electric Pink.

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Blue and Red

When Blue received the call, he knew what he was going to do. Since the beginning of time, Blue had a celebratory couple hours planned for the moment after he obtained Red. However, Blue moved the celebratory activities up on his schedule ahead of commencement activities and though Blue probably knew any celebrating ought to be done afterward, he simply could not resist. First, Blue took a stroll through the park during which time he bellowed an impromptu scream of triumph, along with fist-pumping, smiling at the birds and later skipping over the lawn with his hands clenched behind his back, something he didn’t even realize he was doing.

Red had sent Rose to inform Blue that Red was interested. Blue could have simply said yes. Instead, Blue told Rose he was interested and looking forward to the communion. Rose smirked while texting Blue’s response to Red, and Blue’s interpretation of said facial expression was Rose possessed inside knowledge that Red felt the same way he did.

Everything in the world made sense now to Blue, from why he had been born first to why he passed on blending with Orange. Blue was meant for Red, and everything was a means to that divine end. There are no mistakes in one’s time on this planet if it leads to what you desire most. Blue was going to spread his vision of the kingdom of god and the meaning of life. He had the ability to baptize now that he was, or would soon be, with Red.

In fact, Blue took notice that he suddenly possessed the odd inclination to exercise and even meditate and understood that Red was already a good influence in his life. When Blue thought about blending with Red, he became light-headed, which never happened during any of his actual blending experiences with other colors, predictably totaling far fewer than Blue claimed on all occasions.

Speculation over Red’s sudden interest in Blue fell into two categories, exclusively. Many colors, inheriting the label of cynic, claimed Red was using her play for Blue as a distraction from the other issues no one liked to talk about anyway. Other colors said Red was genuinely interested in giving it a go with the firstborn color and had been planning this for a while, which Rose was willing to corroborate.

Blue asked Red through Rose to meet on a grassy knoll overlooking a silver lake. Red accepted through Rose. When Blue and Red met on the knoll, Blue surprised Red by appearing without fever and telling her she looked very red and very beautiful. Red experienced what might have been the first truly normal interactive moment with Blue in pursuit and made the mistake of considering the possibility that this arrangement might yield something worthwhile.

Blue wanted this moment to be truly memorable, especially for Red. He had been waiting for so long. Red would later describe Blue as a sugar-deficient kid in a candy store. Blue insisted on blending in the most unconventional manner, repeatedly. Blue’s suggestions were so unconventional, in fact, that the blending wasn’t working and instead of suggesting something more conventional in order to achieve success, Blue continued to push the unconventional in the hopes of achieving the memorable. And memorable he achieved, but not anything like he intended. Red became aware she was participating in the most regrettable first-time blending experience of her life.

Eventually, they blended, but afterwards Red told Blue it wasn’t going to work out. Blue insisted on a second chance. Red said it wasn’t going to happen. Red would rather face insurrection led by Electric Pink than blend with Blue again.

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