Tell me... The Violinist's Truth

No, not yet

Brett was standing in an abnormally large practice room, the window was wide open and the summer sun shone brightly onto the wooden floor.

He didn't really know where the room was or how he had got there, but he didn't mind. It was nice here. He opened his book with Bach partitas and began to play. As soon as the first notes blended with the vivid, fresh air around him, a tiny pink bird about the size of a coffee mug materialized on the windowsill.

Brett stared, but somehow he knew he should continue playing. He did and as he watched, the animal grew larger and by the end of the Prelude it had transformed into a beautiful, fully grown flamingo.

Brett heard himself asking the flamingo "Why did you come here? Who are you?"

"I need not tell you who I am, for I am only a representation of someone you know. That person wants you to know that you are wonderful and you are loved, no matter what happens to you."

Brett wasn't sure what to make of this. He didn't usually believe in speaking animals and the like. "So who is that? Who sent you?"

"No one sent me. I came because I am." The animal tilted its head, one black, glistening eye fixed on him. "Be strong, Brett Yang."

And with that, the flamingo was gone.

Brett's eyes snapped open. What strange things sometimes happened in his dreams. It had been a long time since something like this had accompanied his unusally deep sleep.

"How can you sleep like that!?" Eddy had often said to him, "The entire house could come down and you wouldn't even notice!"

Ah yeah, Eddy and his light sleep. Brett rolled on his side and leaned on his elbow. He looked around. The other bed was empty. Rushed, rustling sounds came from outside the bedroom. Brett groaned, rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath and coughed. The smoky driness of the air seemed even worse than the last days.

Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open. "Bro, you just wouldn't wake up. I've already packed some things. Here!"

An empty travelling bag came flying onto the bed "Get your stuff, we're leaving in half an hour!"

"But, what, Eddy, why...-" Brett couldn't grasp the situation. "The fire?" he gasped.

Eddy was already out of the room. His heart beating fast, Brett hurriedly began stuffing things in the bag. He ran out of the bedroom.

Eddy was in the kitchen gathering together some food.

"Eddy, what happened? Are we getting evacuated?"

The kitchen was dipped in an unearthly yellow-orange glow, the sky outside was boiling with smoke.

"There are official instructions to leave. It was on tv this morning, it's all being broadcasted everywhere, on tv, radio, all over the internet... The east is the only area considered safe at the moment. They're sending a bus to take us to the beach. Hundreds of people from Mallacoota are being evacuataed by navy ships. They say it's going to get even worse within the next few days."

"But where are they taking us?"

"Western Port, Victoria" Eddy let a box snap shut and stuffed it in his backpack.

Brett's mind was racing. Have I forgotten anything? I've got my violin, some clothes, all the important things, who knows when we will be getting back here? Who knows if the house- no, he couldn't think about that. He just couldn't.

He went to check in the living room for anything he needed to take with him. But before he could open the door, Eddy was behind him. "Brett. Don't look out of the window. Just don't."

Eddy's tone was almost frightening. But Brett couldn't help it. His eyes had already caught sight of the patch of forest about eight hundred metres from the house. It was unrecognizable. There had been smoke before, yes, but nothing could prepare Brett for this. A mass of yellow, red and blinding white was pushing through the ranks of soot black treetrunks.

Brett felt as if the floor was being pulled away from under his feet.

"Brett! Look at me!"