Hope and a Chameleon

Lying on a lounger under an umbrella, she turned over on her stomach.
A gecko appeared in front of her on a rock close to her. He stopped and looked straight at her.
She looked at him understandingly.
“You know,” she said to him, that you have a beautiful complexion, and there was a note of wonder in her voice.
“A chameleon,” she continued, putting on “her soft storytelling voice,” as if she were going to tell a story to small children.
The gecko still stood motionless on a rock, hypnotized by her voice. She laid her head on the lounge and began her story.
“When Pandora’s box was opened, thousands of demons came out.”
“Hidden from the demons, a tiny light came out at the end. Named “Hope”.  You are the light in my life
“Like a chameleon, her eyes could move individually, searching for those who needed hope.”
“Those who need hope need hope in different shades of color, just like a chameleon.”
And those who hope find the thickness of a chameleon’s skin. Pretty on the outside but thick enough to contain the hope inside.”
“To make sure no one can take it away with ugly words.”
“To make sure no one can steal it with looks of ugly feelings.”
“And to the demons who want some hope, the chameleon will not stand out with its protective color, hidden in its natural environment.”
“A chameleon is by day and a gecko by night, for hope is by day and by night.”
She looked up to see the rock littered with geckos all enraptured by her voice. She rested her head and fell asleep.
One by one, the geckos left the rock, satisfied with their role in the form of hope.

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