The Golden Boy

The Golden Boy

The golden boy sat by the stream, his gaze fixed longingly at the waters prancing and rollicking past. It appeared to me he wanted to take a dip without running the risk of having the colour washed away from him. As with everything unusual, I was mistaken.

He said he did indeed long for a dip but he did in fact want the yellow to be washed off. But the water was blue and he did not want to turn blue.

I tried to convince him that water had no colour in it and that it appeared blue only because it stole the blue from the sky sometimes, usually when it felt drab and colourless.

At that he began to worry that a dip in the stream would leave him drab and colourless. And the thought conjured up in his mind the notion of invisibility. His voice quivered. He did not want to vanish from the world, he stressed.

I asked him what his favourite colour was and whether I could paint that over the yellow. He shook his head sadly and said that right now his favourite colour was the colour of skin, and that he could not recall having ever liked any colour more than he now longed for the colour of skin.

I asked him how he had turned yellow and he said a little yellow girl had kissed him. Mother had warned him about the faeries of the forest and had forbidden him from playing with the colourful kids, he cried quietly.

I could not think of anything else to say or do, so I offered to give him the colour of my skin in exchange for his. At that the boy leapt up in delight and hugged me with a wrap of his arms around my legs, so tiny was he. I buried my face in his hair. The thick unruly but fleecy locks of the little child caressed my cheeks. The scent of lavender and lemongrass filled my being. 

When we pulled away from each other, I could see he was transformed into a rubescent cherub. My hands and legs were as flaxen as my tresses.

The boy thanked me and gambolled away into the meadows.

I sit by the stream wondering whether someone would come along to my rescue. How long would it take, I wonder. I think I will bathe in the stream. I am not sure if it will simply wash away the yellow or turn me blue in the process. Or render me invisible. What if the stream turned yellow?