An Excerpt from Untitled Book 1
Last night, I found myself lost in a sea of people--angry people--and before them, a simple and plain looking woman. She wore a white blouse and a dark skirt whose hem drug against the wooden floor of her plateau. The clothes--along with her dark hair, swirled into a tight behind at the nape of her neck-- was simple, plain and conservative. It was not a style from my time, and as I glanced around at the boisterous mob of people around me, I realized they too, were plainly clad in dark colors atop thick materials from neck to toe--even in such heat.
Sweat poured from my brow and I thought I desired a fan--perhaps a connection to the times drawn by my subconscious. I could see, however, that there would be no fan. These people were not concerned with the weather, it was imaginable that they never were. Next to me, a couple stood arguing; the dangers of being seen in such a rally would ruin them, but the man wanted to stay--it was his fight. He wore a simple suit, and a brimmed hat, which he tipped respectfully before following his wife. The men and women around us scoffed at the unyielding woman, some so much as taunting her, but when she turned to glare at them, an uneasy silence settled over the unruly crowd and the man was forgotten.
Contrary to their puritanical modesty but matching their passionate outbursts, was the familiar glow of their purple skin. Once associated with royalty, the color lent power to the plain garb--set a spark amongst the otherwise life-less crowd. The woman in front was a soft purple, almost lavender, which conflicted with the stony expression upon her face. Nothing about her appeared soft or gentle as her arms mimicked the cadence of her words. It was as I listened to her speak that I noticed the hard, worn look on the faces of my fellow Purples. Over looked and underpaid, they stood in awe of the Purple woman who dared to speak against their voiceless predicament. Only a few faces in the audience were not purple--Grays perhaps supportive, more than likely astounded by her propositions.
"I declare to you that Purples must not depend upon the protection of Grays, but must be taught to protect themselves, and there I take my stand." The crowd roared behind her, as a vague understanding began to settle over me.
"Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputation and social standing, never can bring about a reform. Those who are really in earnest must be willing to be anything or nothing in the world's estimation, and publicly and privately, in season and out, avow their sympathy with despised and persecuted ideas and their advocates, and bear the consequences..."
Why does that sound so familiar? I thought as the people around me began to fade and blur in to a sea of purple flowers. A name was tugging at the back of my mind, the letter A flashed in my eyes before disappearing into the depth of my purple.
Delicate and Strong
Stars rising above me
Courage racing toward eyes
Enveloping still water
And deep down searching
For mountains to climb
Violets stretching the distance
Beauty covers
Purple
Covers beauty
Distance, the stretching violets
Climb to mountains for
Searching deep down and
Water still enveloping
Eyes toward racing courage
Me above rising stars
Strong and delicate
I tossed and turned, as though my actions would scare away the colors swirling in my mind and allow me some peace. My alarm had other plans, however. and its incessant wailing brought my eyes open. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was officially a senior in high school.
