[ het-uhr-oh-kroh-MAT-ik ]
- Having many different colors.
** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem, painting, dance move—inspired by the word, heterochromatic, where does it take me? Where does it take you?
Clara opened her closet and studied the contents. Then, she raised her arm to examine her skin. Today, it was a deep purple, with flecks of sky-blue peppered throughout. Clara pulled out a sky-blue dress to match the flecks and got dressed.
Walking to work, the street was full of the usual sea of colorful skin. Every color under the sun was around. Blues to reds; greens to oranges. Plus, the unique shades and secondary and tertiary color patterns sprinkled across the skin made everyone different.
“Hi, Clara!” said her friend Delphine, holding up her five-fingered hand by her face. Delphine was a mix of red and orange today.
Clara matched the gesture, holding up her five-fingered hand and smiled brightly to her friend. A brief exchange of pleasantries and catching up from the weekend, and Clara was back on her way to the office building.
The glass tower, Clara’s destination, spiraled up…
… to the heavens like a twisted piece of metal. At the door, a man with soft, green skin opened the door for her with his four-fingered hand. Clara eyed the hand and walked through without acknowledging the man’s presence.
Inside, Clara raised her five-fingered hand in salute to a few colleagues and waited by the elevator with them. A four-fingered man with red skin was waiting in the elevator to take them up. No one sought his eyes or acknowledged him.
Each floor they climbed, more five-fingered men and women exited the elevator until only Clara remained inside with the red-skinned, four-fingered man. As soon as the elevator regained its upward motion, the man turned, and Clara locked eyes with him.
Their mouths met in an urgent embrace and separated only after four floors had been climbed. They remained holding each other as his one arm pulled down on the elevator’s lever, bringing them to a slow crawl. They came to a stop at Clara’s floor, and when the doors opened, she stepped off the elevator without looking back at the man she loved.
A classic story idea, with a fun and “colorful” twist. I think the two main concepts from this story are also two traits in history that seem to be ubiquitous.
As far back as we go in the history books, there is always a group that sets themselves up as superior to another group or groups, justified by things like the color of our skin; and, there are always those who break those lines through love.
Romeo and Juliet is the classic tale (even if it has tragic ends), but it’s seen in countless real-life stories too. Why do we like telling stories like this? I think it’s because we like to see, and we want to show that all boundaries are fiction. Love is real. It’s as simple as that.
Oh, Derek, you softy you…
What do you think of Heterochromatic?
Are we destined to always create these boundaries? Or, do you see them as slowly dissolving throughout history?
Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did heterochromatic or my story take you?
If you liked this story, check out my podcast of short stories, More Than A Story.
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