The Indigo Child

Every night, the sky came alive with a magnificent display of purple clouds that danced with the blushing sky. As the night progressed, a haze would descend upon the fields, and tiny purple seeds would plant themselves gently, each carrying a love of sky and water entwined to give life. This love of nature allowed life to grow, and luscious flora bloomed, releasing sweet scents into the air. Wildlife also thrived in this blossoming world, and harmony reached its roots deep into the land, caressing its matter and whispering, "You matter, land."

When the sun rose from its nightly rest, it smiled upon the fruitful earth and fed it with warm rays. The lush flora reached towards the sky from which it came and waved, gratitude carried in the effortless breeze. Songbirds cheered and chirped melodies, and the animals worked together to keep everything at peace. The rabbits knew they fed the wolves, and the wolves knew that when the time came, they too would return to the earth to feed the soil. This was balance, and it was perfect.

But then the people came, and with them, they brought song and dance, but also screams and battles. They littered the once heavenly land with their scraps and sorrows, and then tried to build atop it all. Skyscrapers shot out to the sky, a masked greeting to the pure blue, while metal poles poked holes deep in the ground. With each stab, roots split apart and seeds were squashed, except for one.

This seed burrowed unharmed below a wooden flooring that lay as a starting foundation for a weary fella’ and an infatuated gal.

The world that this seed had the potential to create would never be realized. Instead, it would remain hidden away, unnoticed and uncared for. It was a small reminder of what once was, and what could have been.

In the real world, people like Daniel Greeves existed, and they didn't care much about respecting others. They would beat up the different ones, the ones who didn't fit in with the rest of society. In their eyes, these individuals were less than human, unworthy of any respect or kindness.

The protagonist of this story was one of those individuals, with purple-y eyes and faded purple freckles. He had tried to convince himself that his bullies were doing him a favor by getting rid of his old, ratty shoes and unfinished homework. But the truth was, he was flunking school and didn't see a way out. Not even his teachers cared about him, and he felt like he didn't belong anywhere.

The only person who ever made him feel special was his momma. She would tell him every night that he was important and that everything about him was magical and unique. She encouraged him to embrace his differences, even though it was easier said than done.

The protagonist wished he didn't have to move away, that his dad never had to get hurt down in the dark, smoky mines, and that they didn't have to lose everything after that terrible Thursday in May. The memories of that day haunted him, and he wished he could go back and change things. He hated his purple genes and wished he could be rid of the stupid freckles that littered his skin.

But as much as he wished things were different, he knew that he was special in his own way. His momma always said that just because he was a little different, it didn't mean he didn't matter. And she was right.

The world needs more people who can see the magic and beauty in things that are different. It needs more people who can appreciate the wonder of a purple seed and the potential it holds to create a thriving, harmonious world.