This story begins even before you were born. Before the time be long before the world and what it is today. The human race did not exist - at least not as it is today - and the nature reigned bright and huge, bright colors and vivid. The air was purer, more arid land and water more transparent than it is today.
At that time I roamed the world, asking for the nature of where I came from. I figured I had a father and a mother, but when asked about them only received flowers ironic giggle. One day, I think she was tired of my constant questions, she answered, but not before dumping thunder and lightning all around me, my father and my mother were the earth. The dirty and muddy earth that I so hated when nature would cry if their pain.
She did not appear to be very strong, but neither weak. He was lean and low, the fingers of the hand extremely delicate, long, thin and slightly crooked (the nail of the little finger of his right hand had a different color from the other fingers), his eyes were the color of the brightest malt could be found in nature and his hair was electric pink, the kind that would cause envy in others - if any - because she was the only one to support such a hair color.
I never understood this phenomenon is. Why your hair was pink when mine were a black without color and lifeless.
I met her when she was ten and I fifteen. At that time I was sure we were the only human beings, and that my mission was to repopulate, or popular, the Earth.
The found accidentally. At that time the nature irritated walked eaten. I had made some absurd divine. I do not remember what. And you mother, furious, began to ignore me when he spoke. No wind, no rain, no word. When I started thinking it would go crazy because of the disturbing silence, she appeared.
Small, fragile hair and those prying.
As much as I had 15 years, and the idea of ??sex became more present every day that passed in my head, I could not relate this to pink-haired girl. She was a child, a single company. In fact, a company welcome.
Nature still talking to her, but in sign language, so I do not understand anything. It crossed my mind that maybe she would change. I would have to adapt, but with the time together and increased confidence on her part, for me (I trusted her from the first moment), she began to open.
One day she gave a yes, I was surprised, but said nothing. Later, she managed to tell me an entire prayer, and after a while, we had a real conversation. It lasted a few minutes but it was something like this:
- Max? - That was my name, which was named for her. When I met her the first thing I said was my name.
- Yes - I attended surprised.
- My name is Violet. - Ironic is not it? A pink haired girl named Violet. Nature has some strange games.
- Cute name.
- Nature wants me to tell you why she is not talking to you. - She said simply. I dropped what I was doing and have devoted all my attention to it.
- And why is she mad at me after all.
- It's simple. Because of all the times she cried you did not ask the cause of crying.
It was a conversation like this, I was 17 and she was 12. The World strolled hand in hand, looking for something to do, any animal to call us or when we feel like dressing, looking for other beings like us. For a long time did not meet anyone.
We spent the next twelve years walking and talking. We face the wrath of mother nature, the strong sunshine and low temperatures. We met, we had fun. I fell in love with the girl's pink hair. I fell madly.
When the pink-haired girl turned 20 (I refused to call her Violet. A name that was not assimilated personality) she kissed me. It was during a storm. We were in a makeshift shelter for me, and something should have left our mother mad because she dumped on his tears. Heavy and strong. Stressful actually. The girl hugged me and I act in a protective hug her back. When I realized she had pasted on my lips, something sweet and gentle.
Dawn in each other's arms.
- So ... - The father said the little pink haired girl sitting upright on top of your legs. Clearly excited by the story. - Nine months after you were born .... With this hair so special. My strawberry. - He caught the girl and put her on his lap.
- But, Dad ... Mom does not have hair that color. - The Father smiled.
- But she was Magnolia. Over time it discolors.
- What is bleach?
- It's discolored honey. You know, like when you put water in his gouache, she does not get any clearer?
- Ahhh ...
- Time for bed. - He got up and put her to bed and gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
- My hair loss did not see the color right?
- No, honey.
She adjusted the pillow and slept better.