In a vibrant place known as Rainbow Valley, where each section of land boasted colors no one could forget, one creature was truly special: Coco, the little chameleon. Unlike her fellow creatures, Coco had a unique ability to alter her color depending on her mood and surroundings. Today, she found herself a bright sunlit slope, a dazzling yellow radiating from her glistening skin.
Yet, despite the warmth of the sun’s rays, Coco felt a chill of uncertainty wrapping around her heart. “Oh, dear,” she sighed melodically, her voice tinged with worry. “I wish I could be like all the other creatures. They have their own colors and shades, and everyone can see who they are! But me? Who am I? Will I ever truly fit in?”
As she contemplated this, a butterfly brightly adorned in blue swept by her, trying to spread cheer. “Look at the dragonfly over there,” it said. “She is entirely turquoise with dark slate blue wings, and everyone admires her. Aren’t you pleased to know that you can be like her? You can change into any color you wish!”
“But I don’t want to change into her color,” Coco replied forlornly. “I want to always remain me. But if I stay me, will I ever find things that I can love or admire about myself? Or a friend I can bond with forever?”
As Coco pondered life’s dilemmas, Clara the field mouse emerged through the daisies, bringing a new perspective. “Oh, Coco! There’s so much beauty in being different! Your colors help you blend in and keep you safe in moments of danger.”
“I guess I need to think differently,” said Coco, her spirits lifting slightly.
Soon after, a chorus of frogs announced their presence from the pond nearby. They let out loud croaks of delight. “Your skin is so bright and reflective, it nearly blinds us. Why not come over here and share your sunshine with us?”
Coco considered, “Going out to visit won’t change what I am, but perhaps it will help me.”
With a tentative step, she made her way towards the frogs, her golden hue casting a magical shimmer. The frogs joyously sang her praises, one leaping ever higher to get closer to attention, until—splash! He landed inside a water lily and shook free the drops.
“Oh dear! I forgot, I should indeed go!” Coco exclaimed, realizing she had turned a brilliant saffron to accompany the brightly glowing colored vessels. Wishing the frogs well, she gingerly approached a route that led through a lane of flower-tufted grass. But lo and behold! Among the vibrant blossoms was a sudden tawny patch: a young tortoise, dark and displeased with his luck! He couldn’t help but mutter, “Alas! Why, oh why, must I resemble the drab soil of this tiresome lane?”
“That was really quite rude!” said Coco in her cheerful voice, encircling the tortoise. “But I shouldn’t want to hurt your silent heart. Just give it time. Remember, what is there is matter of the first importance!”
Taking the tortoise’s words to heart, Coco cheerfully continued on her way, ever changing hues, from bright greens to bold pinks, always in sync with the flowers around her. But eventually the enchanting scenery disappeared into dark evergreen hedges, which seem to watch her suspiciously. Coco soon revealed herself, a sleek, dark emerald.
“Boo!” shrieked a voice from amongst the branches above her, so startling her that she forgot to double back towards the avenue. Instead, she gazed in wide-eyed admiration at a huge tangle of feathers and eye-grayness—a creature unlike anyone she had seen before. “Do you know who I am?” asked the unknown one. “You are a wood-pigeon,” said Coco, too afraid of being wrong to say more.
“Right you are! And where are you going, little insect?” asked the pigeon.
“I’m no insect,” Coco replied sharply. “Don’t you see I have feet?” And with that, she started to take her leave.
“Oh, what a poor way of thinking!” cried the pigeon. “I should have imagined a person who can change colors like you would know that it was only the outside of a person’s self are the same as someone of the preceding race. And besides—‘“
But at this point, the pigeon was interrupted by a lark, which danced near the leaves overhead. “Just one word with you. I want a friend,” it called down. “Will you never come and see me?”
Coco found the day had sadly flown. “What a lovely surprise,” said she. The heartiest of welcomes danced over the young lark. Together they made merry on singing, dancing, and trading promises of good will.
After a pause, Coco stammered, “But you see, my dear friend, I fear, should you come near me now, you might have no fellowship with my fair little bosom-fellow.”
“What can she mean?” asked the lark, striving to draw nearer to the patch of subdued flowers. But Coco had turned rusty-brown, and when, with quickened breath, the larkalighted quite close, she was invisible beneath the soil.
Overjoyed, the young bird flew into the sky and merrily sang out, “Oh, such a friend! How lovely, visible without and within!”
“Is she not mine as well?” asked the shy little purple clover, which stood by the burrowing ant’s and made its lot windy-coloured.
But the ants shook their heads. “We should feel it more. But as yet, such feelings dwell outside our homes,” they replied.