The Parables

Iman - Precinct Nine

Iman - Precinct Nine

"Passion fruit juice?"

The voice jolts me, my hand flicking upwards and squeezing the passion fruit juice out in front of me. A girl with two blonde braids kneels in front of me. The passion fruit juice hits her and she squeals.

"Oh, Hydee, I'm so sorry," I gush, dropping the passion fruit.

Hydee giggles. "It's okay." She sits down beside me. "What are you painting today?"

"You know that's a useless question to ask me," I point out, but show her my painting anyway.

Hydee studies it for a while. "The Meal of the Mountains. The zigzags are the mountains and the circle is a meal."

"How do you know all this?"

Hydee smiles. "Papa knows all Aboriginal Art symbols."

I jolt awake. My heavy breathing slows down until I'm no longer gasping for air. It wasn't real. My head snaps to the side. Then to the other side. It finally stops in the middle and my eyes gaze directly through a window screen. Eyes widening, I shrink back in my seat and my hands grip the seat belt around my waist. All of a sudden, it dawns on me. I'm in a car. I'm going to The Parables. I'm going to die.

Sighing, I let go of the seat belt and my hands fall limply to my sides. My stiff shoulders relax and I lean my head against the back of my seat. Gazing through the window, I smile as the sun catches my eyes. Fiery colours of warm pinks, golden yellows and flaming ambers saturate the sky like an immense forest inferno as the sun rises into its world dominating position. The clouds are the colour of apricots, the juice of which I love to use so often for my paintings of sunsets. A faint smile is drawn to my lips as I remember all of those paintings that I've treasured since day one. Yesterday's painting, was probably the last one I'll ever do.

The memory of yesterday becomes suddenly poignant as it was the first day of the countdown until my death day. Which, if everything runs like clockwork, is scheduled within the next two weeks. Yesterday was the last day I'd spend painting. Yesterday was the last day I'd see my family. Yesterday was the last day I'd see Hydee.

Hydee. The girl of my childhood. The friend who's never let me down. The person who has made me feel like I could paint anything. Hydee, with her hair the colour of butterscotch, her skin the colour of toffee and her eyes as dark as the finest oak wood. Hydee, with her kind-hearted personality, her friendly nature and her encouragement that makes you never back down. Out of the blue, something crosses my mind. Something that I should've thought of a long time ago. Something that should've happened at least fifty times by now. Of all the years I've known Hydee, I've never painted a picture, for her.

In a flash, I sit up straight as if I'd just been struck by lightning. I need to paint a picture for her. Somehow, somewhere, I need to make Hydee a picture. Something that she can remember me by when I die in The Parables. My Tutors would have to pass it on to her if I left it behind. A smile crawls onto my face. Soon enough, it extends into a grin that grows wider and wider and wider. My mind is overwhelmed with ideas on what to paint her. A memory of us in the Prairie. A time when we had a fun day at school. A sight we once saw one day that took our breath away.

Relaxing back in my seat, I close my eyes and try to envision what Hydee would like. Nothing too simple. Nothing that's ugly. Nothing that makes her think of something other than us, together, somewhere in Nine. I stifle a snort. That thought sounded so vain and selfish. But in my opinion, if I'm going to paint Hydee a picture then it definitely, undeniably and unquestionably needs to remind her, of me.