The Green-Skinned Boy

Once upon a time, there was a green-skinned baby, born in pain and joy to a purple-eyed mother and a silver-fisted father. The green-skinned baby lived deep in the darkest parts of the steel forest in the smallest cave of a dead mountain to the south.

The first week of his life, the green-skinned baby was happy, cuddling his mother’s bosom and staring into her purple eyes.

But their gold was white and it made the silver-fisted father sick and angry.
The silver-fisted father only spoke with his silver fist, and he talked loudest of all to the purple-eyed mother.

The purple-eyed mother spoke only with her purple eyes, and often the purple tears that flowed down her face.

And so time passed and the green-skinned baby became a green-skinned boy. There came a day when the green-skinned boy wanted to venture from the tiny cave in the dead mountain and see what wonders the steel forest might hold.

“Leave!” the silver-fisted father said with his silver fist, turning the boy’s skin black and blue. He gave his son a knife that would cut through stone.

“Leave,” the purple-eyed mother said with her purple tears, knowing he needed to go out and wander and find and learn. She gave her son a pair of fine gloves that would warm his hands on the coldest day.

And so he kissed his mother’s purple tears and walked into the world.

The first road the green-skinned boy found traveled to the east. He walked for three days into the rising sun and came to a red mountain. At the foot of the mountain slithered a snake, longer than the green-skinned boy was tall with scales as red as its mountain home.

The snake rose up and spread its hood, opened its mouth and shared its fangs, two daggers dripping with red poison.

“Who?” the snake hissed.

“I am the green-skinned boy,” said the green-skinned boy.

“Why?” the snake hissed.

“To wander and find and learn,” replied the green-skinned boy.

“Die,” hissed the snake. Just then the giant red snake struck as quick as lightning, and the green-skinned boy disappeared down the red snake’s throat.

But the green-skinned boy tasted foul to the red snake, so he spit him on the ground.

“You are green,” the red snake accused. “I only eat red. Go away or I’ll bite you in two and leave you to die.”

The green-skinned boy ran away fast and never looked back at the red mountain or the red snake. He had learned to fear.

The second road the green-skinned boy found traveled to the west. He walked for six days after the setting sun and came to a blue mountain. At the foot of the mountain a mad monkey marched back and forth, smaller than the green-skinned boy’s hand and as blue as its mountain home.

The monkey bounced towards the green-skinned boy, waved its arms and flipped about.

“Who?” squawked the monkey.

“I am the green-skinned boy,” said the green-skinned boy.

“Why?” the monkey asked with a taunting voice.

“To wander and find and learn,” replied the green-skinned boy.

“Cry,” squealed the mad blue monkey.

And the monkey then teased the green-skinned boy, telling him cruel jaunts and evil stories about how his purple-eyed mother had died a horrible death.

The green-skinned boy cried and kicked at the mad blue monkey.

“Go away,” the blue monkey said. “Or I’ll jump in your head and tease you till you’re dead, you ugly green-skinned boy.”

The green-skinned boy walked away, his head low, and never looked back at the blue mountain or the mad blue monkey. He had learned to hate.

The third road the green-skinned boy found traveled to the north. He walked for nine days into the cold and came to a white mountain. At the foot of the mountain a white tiger purred like a waterfall and dug at the ground with massive claws, its fur as white as its mountain home.

The tiger roared at the green-skinned boy, showing its teeth in its massive mouth.

“Who?” growled the tiger.

“I am the green-skinned boy,” said the green-skinned boy.

“Why?” the tiger asked.

“To wander and find and learn,” replied the green-skinned boy.

“You lie,” said the tiger, because the legend of the green-skinned boy was known only to the tiger.

The white tiger lunged at the green-skinned boy, who pulled out the knife of his silver-fisted father and buried it deep within the white tiger’s neck, spilling its blood across the land and staining its fur.

As the tiger died, the green-skinned boy cleaned his hands and put on the fine gloves of his purple-eyed mother. He turned and walked away, his head held high, and never looked back at the white mountain or the white tiger or the knife of his silver-fisted father.

He had learned to kill.

And so it was that a green-skinned man returned to the smallest cave of the dead mountain to the south. The purple-eyed mother stood at the cave’s mouth and took the green-skinned man into her arms and cried purple tears.

“What did you learn, my son?” the purple tears asked.

“I learned to fear. I learned to hate. I learned to kill,” said the green-skinned man.

“I knew you would learn those things,” the purple tears said. “I am ashamed.”

The purple-eyed mother held up the green-skinned man’s hands. She slowly peeled off the fine gloves. The green-skinned man’s hands had turned silver. He made them into fists and smiled.

“I have work to do,” said the silver-fisted man. He entered the cave, leaving her behind.

And the purple-eyed mother lived happily ever after.


Thanks for reading, off to write!

Cheers,

Casey

Found the pic here: http://giggles20062011-canuseeit.buzznet.com/user/photos/purple-eyes/?id=3715378