The square was a buzz of activity; children played the game Yervik in the rain, Adults looked on with disgust, and the crazy old guy was yelling about how the World was going to end in the corner of the square. Yes this was all normal for any of the cities of Parra. Parra means paradise in the native language but soon that paradise was going to end.
This thought didn’t even enter the mind of Mira. She looked around the Square, her purple eyes bright with amusement. Her purple lips pulled into a smile, the blue horns that adorned her head that looked like hair with how it followed her scalp, turned a slight purple as if she was blushing. Seeing this is the puddle near her, she start to chant, “Follow the plan, just follow the plan”.
Still looking into the puddle, a familiar feeling began to spread in her; it felt like the person staring back at her wasn’t her, wasn’t Mira. A little wave traveled through it, her blue skin splattered with multi-colored paint disappeared, replaced with the image of a girl with perfect blue skin, wearing a gray jacket and shirt, absent of all colors of the world.
Mira eyes flared as the image burned her into a frenzy ‘I will not become that; I will not be that, NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY OR DO, I WILL BE ME’
She took her foot, lifted it high into the air, and kicked the puddle to banish the image. It wavered before all that could be seen in the flittering image was Mira’s purple eyes.
Unzipping the red jacket that hung off her slim frame, she reached into a pocket, pulling out a heavy square box that looked harmless to the glance, but the smile that stretched on Mira’s lips revealing sharp diamond shape teeth said otherwise. Looking around the square once again, barely managing to dodge a ball that was thrown in the game that children played, all adding up to it seeming the rain covered square was unaware of what she was planning.
Setting the box down, Mira soothed to no one “It will be fine, it will be quick” touching an invisible button; the box began to warm up. It made everything warm inside her ‘I can be me now, this little box is going to let me be me’ then she bolted as it began to count down from ten in bright gold numerals.
As she ran, it alerted the nearby police that something was up, not every day a kid drops something then runs. Mira watched them, as they looked at the back and forth between their targets, the man yelling about the end of the world, and the box. It made the black armor that covered them from head to toe, let out squeaks. Finally the police shrugged and moved closer to the deranged old man, as the box stopped ticking.
Mira stopped when the ticking stopped; her eyes had a hard sheen over them as the worst occurred to her, her plan failed. She swung around, her metal shoes grinding at the rocky road; she demanded to her “I will not let this plan fail.”
This is my moment, this is time that the little girl in the shadow jumps, it’s time for me to fly high in the sky by my own wings, not by any of theirs, but by my own. THIS IS MY MOMENT; NO ONE WILL TAKE THAT FROM ME! NOT EVEN MY FATHER!
With all her speed, she ran back, faster than the police as they tackled the deranged man. Everything began ticking down in her head as she went into overdrive. This was a chance to make a name of herself, of her, she would be a name not a title, no one would recognize her for who her father is, no, they would recognize her for who she is.
She picked up on the looks, people began to look at the strange black box, some seem to be debating if too approach it. One took a step, his white metal shoe clicking against the ground that echoed all the way to her. Feeling the strain of speed on all 4 joints in her two legs, she pushed forward. An inner clock began to ticking down 10, 9, 8
The man was feet away when she made it too the box, 6, 5, 4, 3 with the momentum of the run, she pushed her right leg forward to hit the box square on 2, 1. For a split second, it seemed the kick had done nothing to the black box. The sight made it seem like Mira was kicking her identity away, her only way to make a name for herself. That tumbling box was ripping away all the color on her, leaving her gray.
That’s when the box exploded.
Into a flurry of colors that covered the gray square, covered the entire gray square in pinks and violets and oranges too, even some purples, greens, and yellows. The rainbow covered the square. Mira laughed whole heartedly, color covered her, no longer was she a blue Perra native, she now was the rare rainbow drega.
On the tips of her shoes, while jetting out her legs, and throwing her arms into the air, Mira turned like a dancer. Putting on her strength in one leg, she jumped up and away, just to hit the ground running.
Behind Mira’s escaping figure, distressed yells rang out as stuck up wives cried over their ruined gray dress. Kids seemed just stunned by all the color that coated and covered them, the look at it in confusion masked their faces, not knowing its purpose, they began to roll in it, roll in their childhood wonder.
The wonder, made a soft smile edge at Mira’s lips as the comforting thought enter her ‘this is why color is awesome’
Bang
Out of the shadows of an ally, came a long blue arm that pushed Mira into a box of her own. The barred door to the box closed and a face came into view. Mira looked out to see the head of police glaring at her; she quickly realized she was in a police box. The head of police looked like her just older, same blue coloring; same horns that followed the skull to look like hair but the head of police had gray horns. The only thing that made them truly different was the fact that the head of police had dark gray wings on her back showing her matriarch status, not to mention she was much taller, and she had red eyes.
The head yelled, “Mira, once again, you cause trouble!” this just made Mira stare back with boredom as her purple eyes disappeared as she blinked ever so slowly thinking ‘this hag needs breath mints’. In a non-chalant voice, Mira stated, “Yes, I once again broke the rules, surprised, also, you hag, mind popping a breath mint?”
The head of police glared with her brow forward “you little nussi-nats, just wait tell Prime minister hears about this?” With the expression that still adorned Mira face, it seemed Mira could care less what the prime minister thought about her little stunt in the square. Her eyes wondered away from the head of Police’s, she saw people running from the square, covered in all sort of color, making Mira’s smile return.
The head of police banged a large gray baton, which looked more like a club in Mir’s opinion, against the box’s door that made a resounding noise, the loud noise made Mira pass out. The head of police growled with a venom hate “serves you right”


Slowly Mira woke up in her room, looks like she didn’t have to see the Prime minister’s face when she got in trouble again, she huffed to her thoughts ‘how said, I wanted to see him spaz. Swinging her legs off the side of the hanging net, she dropped to the green wood floors. Looking around, she had a nagging feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing her room ever again.
It was a colorful room, It had her net in the corner, where she slept, then adjacent to that was her writing spot, it was a tree that was bended to make a smooth surface for her to right on, a spot to seat was even bended in with branches. The rest of the room was covered in all sorts of art supplies, even the walls showed sigh of paint splatter, except for one spot.
Her Drage’s bed, he was sleeping in the bed, but when she made a move for the door, his ears went up and then without warning, he jumped onto her.
She squeaked almost loud enough for her to pass out again. She felt her back hit the floor, and she coughed “Dema, please get off, I am not as durable as you”. The 600 hundred pounded dragon looking creature just whimpered. She made a whimper right back at the beast, which made him finally get up.
Dema looked like a red dragon; he was the color the deserts of mars, a deep brownish red, and his wings looked like tents strapped to his sides, with how big they were, the rest of his body didn’t match the bulkiness as he looked thin. Mira knew very well that her Drage could carry her for a very long distance no matter the lack of muscle in his body. Every native has a drega, at birth every native is given a Drage; the color defines what status the native will be. The drage will get their final color when the native turns 2 decades old, Mira is just a year shy of that but most knew what hers would be. Any drega born Perra colors is destined to be Gold meaning Mira was to be Prime Minister one day, a fact that she despised
A gold colored drega pocked its head into Mira’s room; it scoffed at her then threw its head back, a motion to follow. Mira sighed “looks like dad couldn’t even come get me; he had to send his drega, well I am impressed with myself”. Getting up, She moved to follow the drage.
Dema whistled nervously, causing Mira to sigh “it will be alright Dema, not like he can punish me in a new way, and he was trying to get that square painted a bit ago, so I helped”. Dema turned his head to the side to look at her as their heads were level with one another, as at the head they were both 5 foot 7.
The hall outside Mira room was simple, white walls and Perra stone floor. No paintings or desert flowers in sight just white walls and stone floors. It always rubbed Mira in the wrong direction. She just wanted to paint it so badly, remove the bleak.
The hall finally opened up into a simple lounge, white leather couches and more stones tables. A man turned and addressed her “Mira, dearie, why must you do this?”
Mira droned out with no emotion in her voice “because I want to be me, not your daughter, Prime Minister”
The Prime Minster frowned, and scoffed, and growled. His horns turned a dark shade of gray “I am not in a meeting, you can call me father, you know” by the unchanged facial expression, it was clear she would not change at all. He continued, “Is this still about me letting your mother go to the 3rd planet”. Still she said nothing making the answer very clear.
Finally after a nagging urge to make him know her thoughts “I hate you, all you do is going into meetings, both you and mom, neither of you were there, so I don’t care that you sent her to the 3rd planet, I didn’t know her, I swear I was raised by Dema more then you, Next thing I should do is set a color bomb off in this GRAY HOUSE!”
The prime minster sighed before waving her off “no matter what you do, you will always be by daughter, now we don’t have time for this or your actions, I need you to go to the launch pads, don’t ask why, don’t tell anyone where you are going, just go!” this made Mira turn stone cold, something in her father’s red eyes told her that something was wrong but she couldn’t see it, with the facial expression slowly pulling on her father’s face, it seemed that he now finally had a spark of Arianity.
She thought “this isn’t him, when I make that speech, he would call me disrespectful and banish me to my room, what’s happening?”
Mira could sense that Dema was resisting scratching the stone with how nervous he was; even her father’s drega was resisting the urge but failing as the slight nails against chalkboard sounded from the gold drega directions.
Finally getting some sense to her mouth, Mira tried to scuff all cool like “Alright” but it didn’t come out just right. She wondered as she went for the exit ‘what’s wrong with him, usually he is a stickler and will yell for hours, not act like something was breaking’
Right as her metal shoes touched against the green wood door, her father seemed to whisper, “Please make it out”. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she saw him looking down almost mournful, it seemed to her that he didn’t think she heard him. Ignoring the nagging feeling deep within her heart, that was slowly almost gaining physical weight, she walked out, Dema followed, he too looked back as well, just only onto The prime Minister’s drega.
The rain began to really fall around the city, Mira could feel the weights beginning to drag on her heart, she growled beginning her rant with no anger “Stupid old man, always doing weird things, bet a helicopter ready to take me to some reformatory school, make me like everyone else so I am his perfect daughter” by the end of the rant she had stirred herself back into a rage.
Dema knelt down next to her, his intentions clear, she huffed “Fine, we’ll follow the old brat’s directions”. Swing her right leg over Dema’s shoulders; she moved a tad before getting comfortable for the ride. Dema took off without direction, only a couple flaps into the flight, he lowered the rights tip of his right wing to begin to turn.
He flew over houses that belched out smoke making Mira have to swallow down gags. The smoke didn’t even smell like normal smoke, it was more of a noxious fume with chemicals abound.
From a bird eyes view, Mira saw the city that she reluctantly lived in, very few trees grew, the ones that did had almost lost their green bark to the constant harassment of the gray smoke, the buildings were no different but some chose gray by choice. Mira managed to count all the colorful buildings, which was 5, yet those 5 were all at the square, a mile away from her home, where she blew up the paint box. The rest were all a variation of gray or gray or maybe gray. No matter how tall, or short, or wide, or skinny, they all were gray and gray. It was maddening; it made Mira desperately look to the canyon walls. Yes, the city was in a canyon. The canyon walls were a deep red in nature with trees growing out of every nook and cranny, all-growing up to the small sun.
Yet out of all that green was one tree that was black.
It reminded Mira of something, she whispered to wind so that it could know “It’s like me, everyone around it is one color, may it be gray or green, it’s all one color, yet here I am wanting to be them all”. The lonely black tree went out of site as the large, gray, walls stretched up to the sky. They had already made it to the launch pads.
That’s when things really got weird for Mira.
Three large ships stood at a vertical angle, their noses just barely made it over the launch pad walls, those walls were a good 50 meters tall. They were a sight for Mira’s sore eyes as they were blue as every inch of them; every little inch was covered in solar panels. The gigantic ships were made of micro ships all attached together that looked like little cones, they all ringed around what had to be a central hub of sorts, that slowly narrowed making the whole thing look like a big bumpy cone.
Landing right next to what had to be the loading center, Mira was given no time to admire the ships as workers in dark gray outfits came, they grabbed her of Dema while quickly explaining “come, Prime Minister’s daughter, we must load you in before the wave reaches here”.
Mira panicked “wave what wave, like a wave of water, is a flood coming through”.
Another gentleman also being pushed around yelled out “worse, a wave of radioactive sun particles that the sun released, the 3rd planet didn’t block it so it’s going to rip apart our fragile atmosphere”
No, MY HOME, it can’t, it can’t, it just can’t.
Her home, where she lives, where her identity is supposed to be found, is being destroyed.