8.

brown

The land was brown.

Brown rocks, brown trees, brown water...Everything was caked with brown.

The other girls, who were also brown, had tittered over the different hues of brown, from golden to caramel to chocolate and back again. Johara, who even detested the color of her skin, eyes and hair, hated the color brown.

She would go to the desert when it was moonlight and admire the landscape tarnished silver. Everything was much more beautiful, and she would often gaze at the white moon, wishing it would replace the harsh light of day.

Her small tribe, nomadic in nature, stumbled upon a building, half buried in the sand. Old and intricate, it was obviously a labor of love. Some of the elders agreed that it was a mausoleum, a tribute to the lost love of a sultan past.

Johara knew better.

She felt a tug, deep inside of her, and knew that there was a cage within. Beautiful and graceful, but still a cage. They broke open the door and she saw it for the first time, like reliving a memory.

That night, when she was under the moon, her skin became copper burnished with silver, her eyes became bright and liquid, and she became the Jewel of the East.