Rainbow Rose

Rachael loved everything and everyone she ever had the privilege of meeting in her young life. Though just six years old, she seemed to have all the wisdom of the ages locked away behind her inability to speak. Morgan and April knew something was wrong at their first ultrasound. The sonographer gasped, rushed out of the room, and returned a few moments later with Dr. Jorgenson. He looked at the ultrasound and shook his head.

“Get rid of it,” he said. “I can schedule the procedure for the morning.”

April and Morgan were stunned.

“What do you mean, ‘get rid of it’?” Morgan asked.

“It’s not viable,” the doctor stated bluntly. “You don’t it.”

“STOP CALLING MY CHILD AN IT!” April screamed as she climbed off the examination table. “Morgan, we’re leaving.”

They returned home, determined that the doctor was wrong. The next six months passed uneventfully as they prepared their child’s room. When April went into labor, Morgan called his mother for support. She rushed over and helped deliver her grandchild. A perfect little girl regardless of how she looked. They named her Rachael, after April’s great-great-grandmother who was the last of her family to live on Earth.

Rachael developed like all the other children, but she never learned how to speak and her skin never adopted the gray tones of the others. Her skin was colorful, like something out of a storybook. April and Morgan knew she would not be accepted, so they kept her away from everyone except their closest friends and relatives.

Everyone loved her though, and she loved them. The state found out about her in her sixth year, though, and demanded an inspection for worthiness. Anyone deemed a drain on the community’s resources were put down for their own good. April and Morgan read the summons many times that night, before taking Rachael into the woods for one last family firefly expedition.

While sitting in a clearing on some fallen trees, April began weeping. She could not bear the thought of losing her only child just because she was different. Morgan comforted her the best he could, and Rachael simply looked at the night sky.


April and Morgan gasped, stunned that their daughter finally spoke. “Rachael?” April asked, not believing what they had just heard.

Rachael was smiling, looking up at the sky. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. It’s okay.”

April started crying even harder. Morgan just shook his head. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’ve done my job here. I’m going to live with the other Rachael now. Okay, Mommy?”

“What?” April asked, looking at her daughter. “No. You can’t.”

“It’s okay, Mommy. You’ll see.”

April and Morgan ran to where she had been standing, but she was gone.

“RACHAEL!” April screamed as Morgan grabbed her.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the ground.

Where Rachael had been standing was now a small patch of roses. These were not like any roses they had ever seen before. Each rose was a rainbow of colors. In time, the whole forest turned into a plethora of colors and as the forest spread, so did word of Rachael and life on the old Earth. The rainbow rose became the symbol of the revolution as the people overthrew the state and its oppressive rules. Now, people celebrate Rachael and her Rainbow Rose as the founder of Earth 2.



The Old Buick

Angela sat in the passenger seat of the old ’75 Buick Skylark and scraped the inside frost off the window with her fingernail. She laughed watching the frost form tiny snowflakes on her thumb.

“Dad,” she said, as he turned up the heater. “I think it’s time you admit you need a new car.”

“Why would I need a new car? This baby has been perfect since I rolled out of the lot in it before you were born.”

“Yeah, but Dad—”

“Besides, they don’t build cars like they used to. I don’t need a new fancy car telling me it is safe to back up.” He wiped the windshield off with his sleeve.

“But Dad…it’s July!”

This was written for the Three Things Challenge prompt: fingernail, heater, snowflake