Write about anything you’d like, but make sure that all seven colors of the rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — make an appearance in the post, either through word of image.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us COLORS.
When I read Roy G. Biv and then the colours of the rainbow, I immediately thought of one of the books set on an island in the middle of nowhere – Robinson Crusoe, etc. I think that the abbreviation, Roy G. Biv, sounds a bit like a name of a stranded Englishman in the middle of the sea.
The book I’m reading at the moment, after finishing two others this week of a very different genre, is the classic ‘Lord of the Flies’ by William Golding, which tells the tale of a group of young boys stranded on an island after their plane crashes. Over time the boys turn from the children they once were, and realise just how childish they actually are, to “murderous savages”. Although this is the first time I’ve ever read this book (I know, some of you may gasp), and I’m only a handful of chapters into the book, I’m no stranger of this kind of story.
At primary school we would often be asked, as a creative writing exercise, to use the desert island scenario to practice describing things as best we could and as over-the-top as we could. This gave birth to some very funny passages with the overuse of words like ‘iridescent’ and phrases such as ‘a splendid array of fantastical colours’, or something like that. It’s quite funny that I should read the Daily Prompt in such a way that I associated Roy G. Biv with the desert island scenario, because you will almost certainly find plants, fruits and animals that are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.
After writing these funny descriptive passages, our teacher would ask us to then write a desert island story in the two hours of the next creative writing lesson. Naturally, these two-hour sessions were the highlights of my primary school experience. I was often that person who wrote twenty to thirty pages in my jotter, as opposed to others who would manage no more than ten. It was also the centre focus for bullies to pick away at funnily enough – nowadays I can see how the children (without sounding any more than protective of myself) lacking in the faith of their own abilities, which were often very fine indeed, tended to find comfort in then making sure everyone else also lacked faith in their own abilities to compensate.
My favourite story that I wrote, I seem to remember, was one about a hero (‘hero’ was my general term for the ‘protagonist’) who was striving to survive in a desert island jungle whilst searching for a mythical beast. I remember the drawings of this beast – this story was a passion of mine for months! It was a giant lion-man with big, emerald-green, exoskeletal wings like a dragonfly’s, and whose mane was made out of healthy, green and, strangely, blue or blue-green leaves. It had the same orange-yellow skin of a normal lion, however the areas around the shoulder blades, where the wings came out, were covered with the same colour of leaves. This lion-man also had dark purple-blue eyes (so for the sake of this post, let’s call that indigo), with a silver slit so that it looked feline.
However the most wonderful thing was about this story was that at night the giant lionman would look up at the moon and, as the moonlight struck his body, would metamorphose into a far more evil-looking creature of the night. This version of the lion man had more of a look of a panther, with black fur and silver eyes, and silver dragonfly wings, however there was no flesh on these wings – only the beautiful framework of the bones. The creature would stalk the forest and “protect it”, as I put it. The same transformation would recur in the daytime, so that the cycle could restart – it would look towards the sunrise and, as the sunlight hit the skin this time, it would burn in a mystic flame of red, orange and yellow (I think this idea arose from the idea that to create, sometimes you must destroy, something I had read about around that time) and turn back into the slightly fonder if not strange-looking form of the day.
The creature eventually hunted down the hero in the ‘night form’, although several days later when the hero had investigated further, however the hero made peace with it by giving it a hug(!) – a very childish thing to write in I think!
It’s strange to be thinking about that story – I had almost forgotten it! In my head now it actually seems both colourful in terms of imagery, but also in terms of ideas. Something that was so close to my heart is also, perhaps, something I shouldn’t have forgotten about.