Metamorphoses

All black, she thought to be most favourable; untouched, unfathomed as no ethereal substance can encroach to heal.

The leaves and streets are never tired of performing, keenly obeying their choreographer. The constant pitter-patter sound on her pitch-black umbrella seems like a slumberous lullaby, Iris ponders. The sonorous rhythm is stretching her sinuous arms to embrace her as she is standing alone, with her eyelids closed on the empty lane holding the black shield above her head, with red hues dripping from it. Cold thrills are whispering from behind; influencing an unearthly ambience that can shiver every mortal. However, it is of no bother to Iris, as she has to bathe into the hellish torments every day since when all blacks became her favourite. She smiles, starts stepping forward towards home, a peaceful fearlessness soaring within..."I believe no more blacks...I think no longer darks..." 

Clicked by Sneha

Ara, with her mind on the open pages of Ovid, laying on the couch dealing with the cosmic chaos the poet has painted! Suddenly, her eyes fixed towards the window where a rainbow umbrella is resting with its glowing spectrum! She calls, "Iriii, Iri! You've brought the wrong umbrella...it is not your black one!" Iris arrives rubbing her head with a towel, "What is it, Ara! I was...", she frowned to see the blaze coming out of the rainbowed umbrella. Her eyes are glinting with tears. "It's not the wrong one dear, now it has become worthy like my name!." She giggles. 

The fullest rainbow chuckles from the blue.