Orange Spell
An angry grandmother isn’t sure who she’s angry with. Everybody, nobody. Though she prefers to wear black, she casts a spell that turns people orange. We adapt quickly, eat from orange dishes, make orange bullets for orange guns.
A few are immune to the spell. This further angers the grandmother, but no other spell can get them to change colors. The orange people mistrust these non-orange people. They stop referring to them as people. They must be some sub-human form. A handsome blue man dies while painting his house, the one blue house in town. No one will bury him. They don’t want to touch him. He starts to decompose, fade into grass.
It’s not enough to be orange. People wear deep orange make-up and hair dye to make their orange stand out even more. This often gives them power to harm others. The others despise them, but go along, go along. It’s risky to fight back. Also risky not to fight back.
A few years after she cast her spell, the angry grandmother dies. With her, the spell also dies. We start changing colors again. Some welcome the change. Others fiercely do all they can to remain orange.
We bury the angry grandmother with much pomp and solemnity. She considers returning from the dead, but death feels cozier than being alive. The formerly and partially orange people go about their lives like clouds about to disperse. They make their livings and vanish down airless halls of death.
Kenneth Pobo (he/him) has a new book out called Raylene And Skip (Wolfson Press). Also new is Lavender Stones (Rockwood Press).