This is my first day in this strange land. I was shot out of the
comfortable darkness and landed with a splat among some others who
looked exactly like me. We all live in the same place, a barren
desert, but the ground is not soft sand. It is a hard, white
substance; I’m not sure what it is exactly. From time to time, I
notice a giant, hairy monster scoops some of us with its tendrils and
whisks us away to unknown places. No one who has been taken away ever
comes back, and everybody dreads what happens to them. There does not
seem to be any defense against this mysterious monster, but I
sometimes wonder why nobody fights against it. Little is known about
it, but I’ve seen it take a bath after it feeds, and the blood of our
brothers stains the water. If this wasn’t a bad enough problem, there
is also the looming tension and discrimination among us. It has been
going on for as long as anyone can remember. Each of the colors live
in their own separate neighborhood, and none of them dare venture
outside of their segregated districts. I am a yellow, and everybody in
my neighborhood tells me that I mustn’t go outside. The most hated
colors of them all though, the ones everyone seems to hate, are the
Mixes. Sometimes, the monster doesn’t completely devour his victims. I
think it gets tired or something, because it claws through a
neighborhood, forcing some of the colors into another district,
instead of simply taking it away. The colors who were forced into
another place are brutally ravaged, and they come out with completely
different skin tones. These Mixes are not accepted in any
neighborhood, because they don’t look like any of us. Neither Black
nor White, Red or Blue, Mixes are not welcome in any of the
neighborhoods, and are forced to fend for themselves in their own
small communities.

It feels like a week has passed since I was expelled out of the
sanctuary of my home and ended up here, but I don’t know for sure.
There is no time, because it is always bright out. There are a lot
less of anyone, and most of the Mixes have been taken away by the
monster. It seems to prefer them. Do they taste better? I looked
around, and the Blacks and the Whites seem to be doing the best. Their
districts are still relatively large. We yellows, on the other hand,
have been diminished to a small amount. Everybody is quiet, except
this one old yellow. Nobody seems to like him, but I tried talking to
him today. He says the Mixes are not freaks. We are all meant to play
our part in the greater picture, and the Mixes were destined to become
a separate color, or else they couldn’t fulfill their part. He also
said the monster was not something to be feared, but something to be
embraced. I had no idea what he meant. What greater picture? Why
should we embrace the monster? He made no sense, but it was still
interesting to talk to him. Shortly afterwards though, he was taken
away. As the monster left, the yellow seemed at peace with himself.

Today, I was forced into the Red’s neighborhood. I thought about what
the old yellow had said, and I realized that the Red’s were not
hurting me. Instead, the monster was fusing the group of yellow and
the group of red together, and we united into a vibrant, brilliant
orange. I’ve never seen this color before, and I thought that this new
color looked so much better than a yellow or a red separately. I was a
Mix, but I didn’t care anymore. I realized that even if I am a
different color, I’m the same as before. The other colors weren’t
anything to be afraid of, either. I thought, if I had just met them
earlier, we could’ve been friends sooner. It didn’t matter though.

It was time. The recently transformed oranges were carried away by
the monster, and we approached another white surface. This one,
however, seemed softer, and I realized that all the colors who were
carried away before were all there. Living in harmony, there was no
segregation among them. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever
seen, I realized that at any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved
into something complete and great. And then I joined the community…

The artist finished his painting with a sigh of relief and pride, and cleaned off his palate and brush, and hung the painting on the wall
for all to see. It was his proudest accomplishment.