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Writing is an act of faith.
Publishing is an act of optimism.
Inviting comments is an act o
f insanity.
Feel free to join the insanity
and tell me what you think...

2/7/2016 0 Comments

Rainbow Children

Picture
(suggested by the picture prompt for the quickfic @ www.faberacademy.co.uk on 5 February 2016)

No-one understood the genetic quirk which caused a baby to be born with rainbow skin.  At first, babies showed only patches of swirling colours on their hands or feet, but, as they grew, the rainbow shades developed in intensity and spread across most of the child’s skin.

Parents were devastated.  They were afraid their child would be shunned, pointed at, locked away.  But the rainbow children carried a gift which could not be ignored.  The rainbow colours on the outside were pale reflections of the joy they carried within.  Joy which spread happiness to anyone who saw them.  The rainbow children were special.  When you saw one, you felt your cares lift, your mood lighten.  You felt privileged to meet one, rare as they were.

Society began to buzz with happiness.  People became more caring and co-operative.  Hearts were lighter.  Troubles were easier to bear.  The number of rainbow children increased until they became commonplace.  You saw them everywhere.  People got used to the sight of rainbow skin.

Rainbow children did not see the world as others do.  They had no interest in school and no interest in work as they grew older.  They did not seek relationships or interact with others.  People began to mutter about the cost of care.  Parents were blamed.  The mutation must be somebody’s fault.

The stress of caring for a child who could never integrate exhausted parents.  Without support some committed suicide.  Neither help nor understanding was offered.

Joy was not enough.

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    Author

    I spent most of my life not realising I was a writer.  I just thought everybody's minds worked like mine.  On some level I had a vague idea that the conversations with people who weren't there might just put me in the crazy category, so I kept quiet.  Besides, the people in my head were usually more interesting which was never going to win me friends out there in the reality sphere.  Fiction has always seemed to offer more interest than the real world and finally I realised - this is how writers think!  Normal people don't have these thoughts.  So, I had the imagination and the crazy thoughts.  The only thing needed to turn me into a writer was to put pen to paper...  Or, in my case, fingers to keypad.  Here goes!

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