Portrait of 2084

The grey light of the sunset reflected off my glasses as I drew my paintbrush across the page, leaving a streak red as blood. I was painting the sunset as I remembered it: colors ardent and full of passion, a contradistinction to the colourless sunsets of 2084. In recent years, I had turned to paper and brush to help create my own blissful delusion that I was still in the past and not a part of the execrable world that existed today.

I finished my portrait and hung it on one of the few spaces still left on the wall. For a moment, I stood back, gazing at my work. The countless paintings upon the wall shouted to me, each a potent memory, each clamouring for attention. My gaze settled on one of the most inconspicuous paintings situated in an unobtrusive corner. A stream snaked past a grassy hill that faded into a forest of pine trees. I could still smell the pine, the sticky sweet scent of sap that had lingered for days.

In the space of a blink, I was there. The joyful burble of the stream resonated in my ears, and the long forgotten warmth of sunshine flushed my skin. I spread my arms and raised my face to the warmth. It was May 9, 2004, my seventh birthday, and I was ecstatic. The blue sky above me (oh to see blue sky again!) seemed to share my enthusiasm for the day. It sparkled and glowed like a fresh cut sapphire.

I ran, with the stumbling, halting steps of a child towards the stream and stopped at the edge. I heard my parent’s laughter, and with a joyful scream, I jumped in. Beads of water shone like gems as they froze in mid air before plunging back into the sparking stream around me. The deliciously cool water tempered the heat of the day. Swimming to the bank, I climbed out and lay on the grass, allowing the sun to dry me. I closed my eyes. The bright colours, sunshiny warmth, and sensual smells receded as I opened my eyes and found that I was once again left in the oppressive, aphotic world of 2084.

Grade 10 | Pickering College

Abigail Leong