The Colorful Lizard
I looked up at the sky – the only splash of blue amongst the myriad hues of green and brown that surrounded me on all sides. Not a single white cloud attempted to stain its cerulean charm, and in that moment, all I could wish for was wings – wings to fly and touch the blue up above, to let it soak into my skin, to become the sky…
I looked down at my feet – a muddy shade of brown, blending into the earth beneath me – and sighed. As I did so, I felt my color turning slightly darker, and a sense of foreboding started creeping up my back. It always did when I felt my skin taking on a hue darker than what was around me. To block it out, I closed my eyes and turned my face up towards the sky again, feeling its brightness from behind closed lids and a warmth spread through me.
“It’s the colorful lizard!” The high-pitched voice of a baby squirrel interrupted my thoughts. I opened my eyes and, all at once, my other senses opened as well. For the first time I noticed the buzz of the forest around me – the chirrups of birds and insects, the gushing sound of a nearby stream and the mingled whispers and giggles of a group of baby animals nearby. The baby squirrel who’d broken my stupor stood in the front looking at me with big brown eyes full of expectation and wonder. At her
call, all the other kids turned to look at me too.
Kids. They’re so oblivious to things around them. The adults of the forest understood and respected my need for being aloof and let me be. Maybe they could sense the ominous vibes that I sometimes felt emanating from deep within my soul and thus kept their safe distance from me. But kids? They couldn’t see anything past my ‘color-changing’ abilities.
“Can you turn that color?” a meek, inquisitive voice piped up, as I saw a baby lizard pointing towards an orange flower growing in the lap of a magnificent monster of a tree. Usually at this point some grown up shows up and bustles away the kids, threatening them not to bother me again. But nobody was in sight today. Maybe it was the loneliness, the want for a tiny bit of social interaction, or just my curiosity, that made me tread between the tangled roots of the tree that peeked through the soil and make my way towards the dainty orange flower.
As I neared it, I could feel the silence weigh upon me, and I dared not look back at the group.
What if I couldn’t change?
What if the darker color surfaced?
What if I scared them away?
I reached out with my webbed feet and gingerly touched a petal.
Nothing happened.
I gulped, unsure what to do. And then I felt it.
A seeping warmth that touched me. I saw my feet turning a faint shade of orange where I touched the flower, while the rest of me stayed blended up with the roots. The children cheered and clapped, and as they did, the orange on my skin took on a merrier hue.
“Hop on it!” they shouted, and I did.
As I looked, my body reflected the sparkling orange perfectly this time, and I gushed with happiness. Colors affected me. I realized this at a very young age. Colors alone could make me feel a range of emotions. They changed with me as I changed with them. But it wasn’t in my control – I never understood how it happened. Whenever I touched a color, it somehow became tangible and flowed through me, became one with me, and different colors let me glimpse different perspectives of the same world around me. My own emotional state affected the color on my skin too, albeit only slightly.
The color black haunted me. I once stepped upon a dark grey stone, and felt darkness spread through me. It choked me inside, made me want to shut out all senses and numb myself. It hollowed me out. And it flowed both ways – whenever I experienced any negative emotions, anger, fear, desperation, loneliness, my skin started reflecting a darker hue of the color around it. I often had this nightmare that the day my skin turns the perfect shade of black, I’ll be stuck in a void, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, unable to ever feel a color again…
“What happens when you step on water? Water doesn’t have a color, does it?” A baby turtle asked.
I smiled at him as I said, “No, water has color too…
I crawled up the nearby stream and stuck my head out over the water as I touched it with my feet. It reflected the green trees around, and my skin reflected the translucent green.
“Oh!” A murmur went through the crowd.
I often thought water was someone like me – reflecting the colors it saw and touched. Maybe it had already solved all the mysteries haunting me? But it never talked to me. I was the only living creature I knew in my forest that could change colors.
“WHERE ON EARTH WERE YOU –!” an elderly possum came running up towards the clearing where we stood, shouting and halting in her tracks as she spotted me. “Kids! Line up! Now! We have to head back this instant!”
The kids let out a disappointed wail, but fell into a line as they walked towards their teacher.
“I told you not to speak to strangers!” she hissed at the kids as they passed her.
“But we know him! He lives in the forest… And he can change colors!” The baby squirrel from before protested.
“All the more reason to stay away from him,” she shot back. Shifting her gaze upon me, she stated my worst fears in crisp colorless words: “You can’t trust someone who doesn’t show you his true colors.”
I saw the snowy grey possum turn away. I saw the furry brown squirrel, the mossy green shell of the turtle with leaf colored feet, the coal colored rat and the sandy lizard as they walked away.
What was my color? This question tormented me. I often thought, maybe if I knew my own color, I wouldn’t be afraid of black, since I’d always know who I am on the inside and be able to turn back into my color. Was I colorless like the water? But I had never been able to turn colorless – I could only turn into the color the water reflected. In any case, I hope that wasn’t the case –the thought of being colorless wasn’t something that sat well with me.
I was always searching for a creature like me who could change colors too. Someone who knew and understood how it happened, someone who had made their peace with it. Surely that someone would accept me too for the colorful mess that I was.
I looked down at my feet – a muddy shade of brown, blending into the earth beneath me – and sighed. As I did so, I felt my color turning slightly darker, and a sense of foreboding started creeping up my back. It always did when I felt my skin taking on a hue darker than what was around me. To block it out, I closed my eyes and turned my face up towards the sky again, feeling its brightness from behind closed lids and a warmth spread through me.
“It’s the colorful lizard!” The high-pitched voice of a baby squirrel interrupted my thoughts. I opened my eyes and, all at once, my other senses opened as well. For the first time I noticed the buzz of the forest around me – the chirrups of birds and insects, the gushing sound of a nearby stream and the mingled whispers and giggles of a group of baby animals nearby. The baby squirrel who’d broken my stupor stood in the front looking at me with big brown eyes full of expectation and wonder. At her
call, all the other kids turned to look at me too.
Kids. They’re so oblivious to things around them. The adults of the forest understood and respected my need for being aloof and let me be. Maybe they could sense the ominous vibes that I sometimes felt emanating from deep within my soul and thus kept their safe distance from me. But kids? They couldn’t see anything past my ‘color-changing’ abilities.
“Can you turn that color?” a meek, inquisitive voice piped up, as I saw a baby lizard pointing towards an orange flower growing in the lap of a magnificent monster of a tree. Usually at this point some grown up shows up and bustles away the kids, threatening them not to bother me again. But nobody was in sight today. Maybe it was the loneliness, the want for a tiny bit of social interaction, or just my curiosity, that made me tread between the tangled roots of the tree that peeked through the soil and make my way towards the dainty orange flower.
As I neared it, I could feel the silence weigh upon me, and I dared not look back at the group.
What if I couldn’t change?
What if the darker color surfaced?
What if I scared them away?
I reached out with my webbed feet and gingerly touched a petal.
Nothing happened.
I gulped, unsure what to do. And then I felt it.
A seeping warmth that touched me. I saw my feet turning a faint shade of orange where I touched the flower, while the rest of me stayed blended up with the roots. The children cheered and clapped, and as they did, the orange on my skin took on a merrier hue.
“Hop on it!” they shouted, and I did.
As I looked, my body reflected the sparkling orange perfectly this time, and I gushed with happiness. Colors affected me. I realized this at a very young age. Colors alone could make me feel a range of emotions. They changed with me as I changed with them. But it wasn’t in my control – I never understood how it happened. Whenever I touched a color, it somehow became tangible and flowed through me, became one with me, and different colors let me glimpse different perspectives of the same world around me. My own emotional state affected the color on my skin too, albeit only slightly.
The color black haunted me. I once stepped upon a dark grey stone, and felt darkness spread through me. It choked me inside, made me want to shut out all senses and numb myself. It hollowed me out. And it flowed both ways – whenever I experienced any negative emotions, anger, fear, desperation, loneliness, my skin started reflecting a darker hue of the color around it. I often had this nightmare that the day my skin turns the perfect shade of black, I’ll be stuck in a void, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, unable to ever feel a color again…
“What happens when you step on water? Water doesn’t have a color, does it?” A baby turtle asked.
I smiled at him as I said, “No, water has color too…
I crawled up the nearby stream and stuck my head out over the water as I touched it with my feet. It reflected the green trees around, and my skin reflected the translucent green.
“Oh!” A murmur went through the crowd.
I often thought water was someone like me – reflecting the colors it saw and touched. Maybe it had already solved all the mysteries haunting me? But it never talked to me. I was the only living creature I knew in my forest that could change colors.
“WHERE ON EARTH WERE YOU –!” an elderly possum came running up towards the clearing where we stood, shouting and halting in her tracks as she spotted me. “Kids! Line up! Now! We have to head back this instant!”
The kids let out a disappointed wail, but fell into a line as they walked towards their teacher.
“I told you not to speak to strangers!” she hissed at the kids as they passed her.
“But we know him! He lives in the forest… And he can change colors!” The baby squirrel from before protested.
“All the more reason to stay away from him,” she shot back. Shifting her gaze upon me, she stated my worst fears in crisp colorless words: “You can’t trust someone who doesn’t show you his true colors.”
I saw the snowy grey possum turn away. I saw the furry brown squirrel, the mossy green shell of the turtle with leaf colored feet, the coal colored rat and the sandy lizard as they walked away.
What was my color? This question tormented me. I often thought, maybe if I knew my own color, I wouldn’t be afraid of black, since I’d always know who I am on the inside and be able to turn back into my color. Was I colorless like the water? But I had never been able to turn colorless – I could only turn into the color the water reflected. In any case, I hope that wasn’t the case –the thought of being colorless wasn’t something that sat well with me.
I was always searching for a creature like me who could change colors too. Someone who knew and understood how it happened, someone who had made their peace with it. Surely that someone would accept me too for the colorful mess that I was.