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The treasure at the end

Stories and News No. 1040

In Japan, a teenager took the Osaka government to court because her school ordered her to blacken her hair, since every student was obliged to.
The girl has natural brown hair and stated that due to the stress and anxiety for the absurd constraint, she has got various rashes on her scalp.
So, here's a story...


Once upon a time there was a sky.
No, ‘the’ sky, the perfect heavenly picture that has seen all of us passing through and, sooner or later, will tell everything.
I refer to something drawn from below, with no ambition to what makes the shapes and contours of the human creation worthy of the eye.
Read as well as the naive, moving courage to imagine the world as it should be.
In this sky, not ‘the’, everything existed according to the given order.
Each one respected the boundaries of their natural kingdom, as well as the times for closeness and distance, which are nothing but the same way to find out how mysterious, centripetal power holds together the universe.
I’m talking about love, obviously.
One, undoubtedly singular, day the unexpected host appeared on the scene.
The stars looked stiff, fused like a wall by the usual ingredients, disgust and fear.
So, invoked to take action, the sun scolded the immersive newcomer, using as the pretext the first dissonant note of rejection.
"Hey, you, what’s that red? It's not okay at all, get rid of it, or go away."
The new one was very much in favor of being accepted, and he decided far-fetched to obey the claim.
In the end, he thought, it was an easy renunciation, in exchange of the celestial citizenship.
However, as soon as he got back on his feet, he realized that the road to popular tolerance was still long and impenetrable.
"I tell you again," exclaimed the sun, glittered by the stars, "that orange is out of place. Take it away if you want to stay with us."
The stranger accused the blow and welcomed the invitation, even if unpleasant.
He wished to be part of the primary show, so, another sacrifice was worth it.
Nevertheless, when he reappeared in the ethereal square, the repression was repeated.
"Stop where you are, wicked," the sun screamed, readily backed by the cosmic guards, a spontaneous initiative for the sake of chromatic homogeneity. "That yellow is inappropriate. Delete it from you as soon as possible, if you love our space."
The poor creature chose to satisfy the bright sovereign.
Nevertheless, the right instant he was back on the sky, nothing changed.
"What’s that green?" the sun asked, immediately applauded by the Association for the protection of the identical colours. "Our eyes are scared by such scones."
So, he cut off another, natural part of himself.
It happens often, where loneliness is the weakest part you have.
Then, the possible new friend of all, came back into the game.
"You really don’t understand, right?!" shouted the angry sun, maybe also a bit amused by that, sad pastime to break the inert monotony of his existence. "Blue is allowed only to the sky. How you dare? Get rid of it right away, and do the same with that purple, which, among other things, is bad for theater."
"But how should I dress?" He finally found the strength to say.
"Simple," replied the moon, speaking in the name of all that sky, fortunately not ‘the’. "You have to cover yourself with the only colour we all are made of, that is, the white light."
The stranger moved away, with the bowed head, and reached the highest point his exasperation. Then, he turned his back for the last, wretched time to his irreplaceable, personal wealth.
Enough with red and orange, yellow and green, no more blue and green, the rainbow dissolved in the air as if it had never existed.
Therefore, no one was ever able to find out what unknown colours his treasure would have given us...

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