Colorful Mouths

The children of the infected were born were differing tongue colors. The first one to appear was black. It alarmed doctors and scientists as they thought the Vynga virus – a virus that primarily affected the mouths and throats of the prior generation – had mutated to strike the children in ways worse than their parents.

But nothing else was different. Though their tongues were black, the infants were normal. Then green tongues showed up, along with bright purples, dark blues, golden yellows, and even some rare whites. It was a mystery as the color of the tongues didn’t correspond to the different strains of the Vynga virus that had affected much of the population a handful of years earlier.

In just two generations, no pink, bland tongue could be found. Richly colored tongues dominated the eateries and delicatessens of the world. This was not a good thing. One’s tongue color threatened to place a person inside stereotypes that had been founded by those directly affected by the Vynga virus: those who had no clue what it meant to have a vibrantly tinted tongue. Black tongues, or Blacks, were thought to be wicked. Greens were said to be greedy. The rare Whites were thought to be pure of spirit, like angels, which accounted for their rarity. Yellows were often called Goldies and were thought to be akin to Greens, but they didn’t crave wealth; it just sometimes found them.

The stereotypes were as numerous as the tongue colors, if not doubly so. While some believed Greens were greedy, others thought they were in touch with the natural world. Whites could be construed as rare and pure, but some thought of them as wily and wicked. It was a changed world.



“Stick it out.” Peter stuck his dark blue tongue out. “Okay. You’re good.” He didn’t know which color would’ve been bad.

The panel closed and the door opened, nearly knocking Peter off the landing and into the alleyway. He was let in and the darkness inside invited him. Someone next to him opened their mouth to reveal a bright, neon green tongue. It lit up the dank hall. “Wow,” Peter said in awe. “One of them glow tongues.”

The teen smiled with his mouth still open and nodded while leading the way, letting Peter follow the path of his peer. At the end of the hall were sealed doors that led into a vast, bright room. It hurt his eyes and he recovered his sight soon enough, noticing several people and more tongue colors as he did. The age groups were equally as diverse as the colors and he found himself amazed.

According to the books, they were all supposed to stay within relative areas in consideration to each other. It had been that way since just after Vynga, over two hundred years ago. Peter was glad to finally be away from the oppressed masses and associate with those of a different tongue color. It usually turned out that Dark Blues were very dull. Peter didn’t want to be dull. He wanted to explore more of the world and what it had to offer and not just grow up to get a job and slowly die. The vision of the doorman’s glowing tongue was only a glimpse of the kind of people Peter was destined to meet.

A short girl stumbled into Peter from behind, knocking him over. “Ooops,” she giggled, the expression of a Lavender. “Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Peter finally stood up and looked at her and thought she was beautiful. “My name is Rhonda,” she said with her black tongue. Peter felt sorry for falling on habits and thinking that she’d been a Lavender.

He extended his hand. “I’m Peter.”

Rhonda put her head forward. “Wow. That’s the darkest blue I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know they got that dark! It’s almost black, like mine”

Peter felt his face flush a little but didn’t stop smiling. “Well, they do.”

“Pricilla writes that the colors are only going to get more vivid. I think she’s right. I saw someone with a flame-looking tongue just last week.” She pulled out her cell phone and showed Peter the picture of the tongue.

“Oh. That is a flame tongue!” He laughed a little and was happy that she had mentioned Pricilla as the flyer he had found had her name printed on it. “Um, is Pricilla going to speak tonight?”

Rhonda nodded while taking a drink. Just then, the lights dimmed and Peter looked up and followed a single beam of light to the room’s stage. There stood a slender young woman in a white, sparkled dress. “Hello, all,” was all she said, but it was enough to shock the room. The light beaming down on her showed clearly the color of her radical tongue: pink.

After the murmurs died down, Pricilla began to speak of how the Vynga virus had most likely been introduced by the American government to curb the taste buds of future generations, as a means of making people eat healthier. It had backfired and resulted in the wide array of tongue colors. “But, as you can all see, that change is coming to an end. My tongue is pink, and there are others out there. Soon enough, your children or your children’s children will get to live in a world where they don’t have to be grouped together because of the color of their tongues. They won’t have to suffer through the prejudices that Blacks, Goldies, Lavenders, Whites, and all others have gone through.”

Peter felt a little weird about being grouped in with all the others but let the thought slide when he focused on the future. He looked at Rhonda and foolishly thought of children with tongues like they had been centuries ago. It was enough to make him keep smiling and he was glad to have found that crumpled flyer that led him to this underground meeting of multi-colored tongues.

Word Count: 998