The Prophecy of Water | ✔️ 🎖 [2018 Wattys Shortlister]

CHAPTER 20-The Change

They cling to well-trodden paths for they are afraid of dark forests and deep snows.

But I will make a new track and leave a trail for them to follow. For once I do, they will see the right of it.

LoG, 73

The apparent peace that Drian feigned with difficulty throughout his conversation with Nalon was now gone. Unable to restrain himself, he slammed the bedroom door.

Mina screeched in rebellion.

"Shut up!" he ordered.

The bird puffed its feathers indignantly and remained intimidated on the tree branch. The black cloth with which Drian covered the cage was now lying on the floor.

After circling the bedchamber, Drian knelt and took out oil paints and a picture from under the bed. He wanted to bring his mind into a state of purity and immaculacy; make it untouched by the conversation that just happened between him and his father. Drian wished to forget everything they said to each other. The inevitable discord that took place between them. The canvas he had set up on a stool was a work he started over seven Lights ago.

The forest.

Drian used only green and black hues, tending to simplicity. His paintings reflected his current state of consciousness. Sometimes they would portray places he would walk in dreams which he couldn't shake off for a long time after he woke up.

Instead of a complete, detailed view, every scene was an indication. A road sign, which could guide the observer how it suited him.

That was how it was this time too.

The woodland on the canvas gazed back at him. In the foreground, there was a grassy clearing. Soft and bright-green, it invited the viewer to sit down and rest. Playful grass blades were the first thing the observer of the picture would encounter.

The second thing were the crooked trees. It was an impenetrable line of densely squeezed black trunks. They were connected one to another, like soldiers on guard.

Drian often wondered whether they hid the forest from unknown eyes, or they actually kept travellers from any threat that might lurk in the woods. It was as if the trees were telling the observer: "We are looking at you, we are looking at you carefully. You can play here, out on the grass, but if you go into the woods ... Something evil will come for you."

It was the enchantment of the painting. Allow the observer to guess what is behind those quiet, black-barked wardens.

The pasture was a safe life path. The trees–a boundary between the known and the unknown. The Light and The Dark. Present and Future.

This mental tirade helped Drian calm his anger while he worked. He pulled a wooden stool, sighed, and sat down. His feet hurt from walking all day. It seemed unreal, everything he had experienced.

The Desiccation Ceremony, The Descent into The Wells, the attendance of The Farewell, exiting The Wells and finally ... The road to The Glass Dome during The Dark.

The Wells and The Glass Dome are my black trees, my wardens. The first steps I made to my forest. This is a choice that will lead me to a different future.

Memories of his father passed through his head. Nalon was always there for him. He taught him to walk and talk. He encouraged and supported Drian when he went to his first classes.

Drian tried to concentrate and complete "The Forest".

The image of his father's big hand with a swinging wooden cage was still lurking behind the walls of his consciousness, ready to pounce.