Rainbow Eyes

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple. Some one nearly divine, or some one worthless. It all depends on the colour of your eyes. In this fantasy world, where magic is a crime, where the elite ruling class are corrupt and perverse, where fairness, honesty and truth are meaningless words, a strange mixture of people start trying to change things, and elsewhere, a baby is born with rainbow eyes.

  Anyone could see it was wrong, anyone except me.

  Because it's stealing right? And that means it's BAD, never mind if it was because I hadn't eaten anything other than an old orange in two days. Never mind if my little sister died because I couldn't feed her, and she got sick, and my parents had been conscripted to work in the mines. The shopkeepers eyes were Yellow, and so his word means more than mine. Everything he gets is more than I would. So the "justice" he gets is more than I do. And I did't even get to eat the loaf of bread.

  The Reds don't see why anyone would need to take something without paying for it, they don't even see us lowly Purples unless we do something wrong-in their eyes. Their whole lives they are told they are the best, the best at everything. That they deserve the best, the best of everything. And they get it too. Unlike me.

  I'm in a holding cell right now, they're always full of Purples. Blue's are ruthless at arresting us, a mixture of relief at not being us and disgust at being so close in Colour. The air stinks and the walls are filthy, I'm kept in a private cell because I fought back when the Bruisers caught me. We call them that because if they go into law enforcement then it's probably because they have mixed heritage. It's illegal to intermarry but within the lower Colours there is a lot of it, and having parents of Blue and Purple gives you dark, bruise-like colour iris.

  I'm not sure what will happen to me now. I have broken the law, but it was only a minor offence; luckily I didn't display my magic. I only have a little bit, enough to sometimes keep me warm or light a candle, not enough to be useful. It shows up in random people and no one knows why, I think that's why having it is punishable by death...The Reds can't control it and so they fear it, about the only thing they fear. If they could ensure it was only active within their own Colour, they would use it fully. But instead they eliminate anyone who might have even a trace.

  They rule with fear, or just by making sure that the resources of our land are unfairly divided. There is no spirit of rebellion, because everyone has to look out for themselves. We are all too beaten down and tired and weak to change anything. Or at least that's how it seems.


  Is some one yelling at me? I look around, all the walls are made of bars, and in the next cell I see an old man with circles all up and down his arms, scars from being branded a criminal, but he has more than I have ever seen. He seems to wear them proudly, and despite his grimy appearance, he has an air of nobility. He is looking at me, and his eyes are Orange. What  is he doing here? He should be too important. He gestures me over.

The End

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