Rainbow Colors (ON HOLD)

Chapter 1

     Many years ago before my grandparents, seven generations back were born, our first leaders decided to split our society into groups by color. No, not by skin, by the color of clothing we chose to wear.

    Those who would choose purple as their color were the nobility they watched over us.

    Those who chose warm colors: red, orange, yellow, lighter shades of the colors, you name it. They were the middle-class. Their jobs were artisans.

    Those included the middle class jobs: teaching, writing, pottery, paintings, and drawings. The last and final class chose the colors that no one would want to wear.

    The colors were green, blue, black, and brown. Most likely, because there weren't enough pretty clothes for them to go around.

    My mother always said we were lucky but how were we lucky? We had to get plastered in make-up and wear the most uncomfortable clothing. Most were drawn to purple or to the middle class.

    I was drawn to those colors. The ugly colors. I don't know what called me to them. Maybe the dangers they went through in every day life, the excitement of it all. Their jobs were to be our safety they protected the borders from outside invasion.

     They were also our medical doctors and worked in the stores. The lowest of them worked under the city to keep it running. The border patrol let in very few things most of them were trucks that had our food supplies and the gardeners that gardened throughout the city making it beautiful.

    However, in my opinion, the most beautiful part of the city was where the poor lived, where it was wild and free. Perhaps, this is because it wasn't manipulated by our human hands. However, for whatever the reason I loved those colors and I wanted to join their people. I didn't want to wear nice dresses. I wanted to wear black pants, heavy leather and as little make-up as possible.

     But, being the queen's daughter I had no choice in the matter. My face was caked with make-up. I was taught to keep my head straight like a horse when they tightened the lead to straighten their heads.

    Oh, I wished to let my hair out, to feel the wind run its fingers through my mane.  However, not matter how hard I tried to go out like this my mother would scold me.

    "Veronica!" As she would say I cowered feeling as if I was the mouse and she was the cat. "Veronica, what on earth did you do to your hair?" "I- I-" I never came up with a suitable word. Or if I did have an insult at the tip of my tongue I never once dared to spit it out.

    I despised the color purple. I despised always having my hair done, even after my shower. I wondered what my hair would look like. Would it have those strange curls that I've seen with the wisps of hair that escape my mother's clutches when she does my hair.

    Everything was for my mother until I got to choose who I would be. I knew that for the first time in my life, it would be what I wanted. I knew this was my chance I could learn how to be free. The lower rarely moved up and the higher rarely moved down and that was just how it was.

    Until two years back, there was one boy who moved up. He became my mother's favorite. He was stuck-up, snotty, and now took up most of her time. If I didn't leave he would be my betrothed. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate him taking her love from me. Well actually, I did.

     I hated him with every fiber in my being. He stole our moments where we weren't fighting. Where she was herself and I was her daughter and she was just, my mother. We would have tea parties, or climb trees or pick flowers in the garden. I miss those days... Day by day, my hatred for the both grew and I knew I had to leave.

    As tomorrow is that day, I knew what to do and I knew I would have to lie to my mother about what I would do. So when my mother came into my room tonight we had the conversation about my future we've had so many times I knew by heart.

    "Veronica, your day in which you choose is tomorrow." "Yes Mother." "You know what you have to do, for me, yes?" "Stay where I am." "Good girl," she pats my face and for the first time in ages she embraces me and practically skips out the room because she is sure that she has her daughter with her forever. Little did she know that tomorrow would end up much different than planned. I would be free at long last.