How Nightlands Got His Magma Colour

    Nightlands was a blue-furred Kyrii, and he had the blues. He felt that no one noticed him because he faded into the background.

    "Cool colours are soothing and serene," his mother said, brushing her beautiful green fur.

    "Are the others ignoring you?" his yellow-furred father asked, frowning and furrowing his brow.

    Nightlands knew his parents were trying to help, but he still felt blue. Secretly, he wished he was more like the little red-furred Kyrii across the street. She looked lively, and had lots of friends.

    "No one notices me even when I'm here, so I might as well leave," Nightlands reasoned. "Mother, father, I'm off on a quest to do something that will get me noticed."

    Thus Nightlands traveled for many a day. In various lands, from Terror Mountain to Maraqua, he met many notable Neopets who assured him that blue is bold, bright, and beautiful.

    "It is for them," Nightlands thought to himself. "But not for me."

    At length, Nightlands came to the land of Moltara. There he saw a marvelously mysterious pool of magma, with an armed guard keeping watch over it.

    "What is this place?" Nightlands asked.

    "It's the Magma Pool," said the guard. "Any Neopet who dares to enter will undergo a fiery transformation. But it's quite dangerous for one who is not versed in the ways of Moltara, so I won't let you in."

    "That's all right," Nightlands replied. "Trespassing is not the way I want to get noticed."

    Just then a flurry of white things swirled over Nightlands and the guard, causing both of them to duck their heads under their arms.

    "What was that? I've never seen flying white things in Moltara before!" they exclaimed.

    The white things settled on the far side of the Magma Pool. Then Nightlands heard a cry for help. A flustered Flotsam floated up to him.

    "Oh, please, won't someone help me get back my precious treasure?" she cried. "A sudden gust of wind blew it away from me!"

    "Are those white things your treasure?" Nightlands asked.

    "Yes!" the Flotsam said. "I don't dare enter the Magma Pool myself, with my sensitive skin. Oh, if only someone with thick, well-insulating fur would cross the Pool and get them back for me!"

    "My bristles are sparse and non-insulating," the guard growled gruffly, shaking his head.

    Nightlands thought to himself, "My fur is thick and well-insulating. At last it is good for something! I will cross the Pool and recover the treasure."

    And he did just that. He was so well-insulated that he barely felt the heat, but his fur underwent the fiery transformation that the guard had spoken of. It was no longer plain blue!

    However, that was far from Nightlands' mind at the moment. The treasure had turned out to be puzzling pieces of printed paper. Before he could figure them out, the Flotsam came to take them back.

    "What are they?" Nightlands asked. "The incantation for summoning a giant robot? The formula for fusing alloys of Neopium?"

    "Something far more valuable than that!" the Flotsam told him. "These are the galley proofs for the 800th issue of The Neopian Times!"

    "Tell me more," Nightlands said.

    "I'll do better than that. I'll show you," she said, and took him with her to the press room.

    There, the reporters and typesetters and proofreaders hailed him as a hero, but only briefly, because they still had a deadline and had to get back to work. But first, they flung a commemorative sash of newsprint over his shoulder. Fortunately, the paper was tabloid size, not broadsheet.

    Nightlands never knew before how much went into a newspaper. There was news, of course, and there were also articles, editorials, weather, cartoons, and Neopian-interest stories. There was even a section called Notices, for anyone who wanted to be noticed!

    Nightlands felt the stirrings of a sense of purpose. Surely he had been brought here for a reason!

    "By the way, why were you standing by the Magma Pool when I first saw you?" asked the assistant page layout design artist, who was the Flotsam.

    "I was dissatisfied with my plain blue fur, and was looking for a way to make myself more noticeable," Nightlands answered.

    A lovely lady Lupe looked up from her typing table, which was strewn with reference books she was using to fact check some pages of the paper.

    "It doesn't matter what you look like here, as long as you have good ideas," she said. "When I'm behind a keyboard, no one even knows I'm a Lupe."

    "Do you think my story could appear in The Neopian Times?" Nightlands dared to ask.

    "Maybe so," said the Flotsam, encouragingly. "However, that is entirely at the Editor's discretion."

    "The Editor?" Nightlands asked, sensing that the Flotsam had given a capital letter to that distinguished title.

    "Look there," said the Flotsam.

    Nightlands saw, at one end of the room, a desk with a big, beautiful executive office chair, like a throne only even better because it had a comfy back support built right in. He was very impressed.

    "That is the Editor's chair," the Flotsam said.

    "Is an Editor much like royalty?" Nightlands asked.

    "In a press room, yes," she replied.

    "Why is the chair vacant, though?" he asked.

    "Alas, the Editor is far too busy working ever to relax in such a comfy chair," she replied.

    "If only I could have spoken to the Editor face to face, I feel certain I could have presented my story well enough to appear in print," Nightlands said, looking longingly toward the Editor's chair.

    "Let me give you a word of friendly advice," the Flotsam said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Flattery can get you only so far. The Editor has heard it all before."

    Nightlands was embarrassed not to have thought of that himself. Fortunately, his newly Magma coloured fur was reddish to begin with, so that no one could tell if he blushed.

    So, unfortunately, Nightlands was unable to meet the Editor before beginning his journey home. However, he vowed in his heart that he would come back to The Neopian Times someday.

    As he retraced his steps, in every land, the notable Neopets he had met on his outward journey asked him about his new colour and his commemorative newsprint sash. When they heard his story, they signed his sash as a souvenir.

    At first, Nightlands was eager to tell his story in every detail. After he had told it a few times, he began to skip some of the less important points. When he was halfway home, he had buffed it to a brevity that would have befit any reporter trying to tell a tale in the tersest terms.

    By the time he was in sight of his home, he did not want to hear the same questions any more. He took off his sash, so that no one would ask him about it. However, he folded it away very carefully, because he treasured it.

    Nightlands knew now that a friend was not only someone you listened to, as he had listened to notable Neopets in many lands on his outward journey. A friend was also someone who listened to you, as those same Neopets listened to Nightlands' story on his way home. The sash, with all its signatures, would serve as a symbol of the friends he now had in many lands.

    He wondered why he had ever worried about the way he looked, when that was so easy to change. He was pleased that he had been noticed more for the help he had given the Flotsam than for his new rare colour. (Of course, he was pleased with his colour, too, and frequently paused to brush his mane, but what Kyrii doesn't do that?)

    When he got home, his parents welcomed him warmly.

    "You look different somehow," his mother said. "Livelier!"

    It was true. Nightlands no longer felt as if he faded into the background. However, sometimes he wished he still could.

    "It's lonely never to be noticed, but it's tiring to be noticed all the time," Nightlands reasoned. "If only there was a way to be noticed only sometimes, such as afternoons and on weekends!"

    He remembered what the lady Lupe had said, that no one could tell she was a Lupe when she was behind a keyboard.

    "I can't play the keyboard, though," Nightlands thought, unaware that he was thinking of the wrong kind of keyboard. "Maybe a drum kit would work as well."

    So, Nightlands took up the drums, practicing afternoons and on weekends. The little red-furred Kyrii who lived across the street noticed him when he was practicing. She played an instrument, too, and thought of asking Nightlands to join a band.

    However, that is a story for another time.