Sparkle's Mural [Fiction]

5.43 P.M.—March 14, 2155

The streets were crowded with people moving briskly in different directions to their housing units. They must be in their units before six p.m., per the regime's orders, or face a two-week jail sentence.

The once bustling city of Port Knox had become a shadow of itself after the viral pandemic halved her population and a new regime took the reins of leadership.

Life in Port Knox changed. The air became heavy with the people's fear and gloom. The typically dull atmosphere was now turning grey, the ashen clouds rarely let the sun pierce through. Plants slowly began to shrivel and die. Bodies of water were polluted and stank. It was as though the regime cast a filmy dark shadow that quickly seeped through the cracks and crevices of the city, draining away her vivacity.

There was no more lawlessness.

The armed sentries were everywhere, twenty-four hours. They were mean-looking, strict and functioned like robots. Every order was executed swiftly and with precision. Surveillance cameras loomed on every corner. Nothing was hidden from the regime's eyes. Every man and woman lived according to the rules transmitted via the internet straight to every device in the city.

No citizen dared get out of line because the punishment was swift and severe. After scapegoats were made of a few dissents at the beginning of the regime's tenure, everyone got in line.

Or did they?

When the advisors held a meeting with the regime leader about the spike in mortality rate, one of the advisors pushed for an activity to enliven the city and put hope in the people's hearts.

The regime leader reluctantly agreed. In a citywide broadcast that evening, General Hum-Hum declared a three-day arts competition. The winners to be selected by him would be promoted to better housing units.

Sparkle was just thirteen but life in Port Knox aged and forced him to be an adult. He secretly made paintings of how life used to be before the arrival of the doomsday regime and tried to sell them but no one could afford to buy them. So he stopped. And cleaned sewers to put food on his family's table. He had only his mother, younger sister and disabled uncle.

He watched the five-minute broadcast that was more like a grumpy announcement with his family.

"Will you participate?" His mother's soft voice broke the silence in their semi-dark unit.

"Yes, Sparkle. You must participate and show off those cool paintings," his sister added, her youthful eyes gleaming.

He'd lost his fervour for painting. He often dreamed of the green lush landscapes that graced most of his canvas. That was the only way he could sleep soundly.

Now his family wanted him to put his talents out there. Who would appreciate it? Certainly not the cruel regime leader. But hope seemed to be unfolding in his family's eyes.

He knelt on one knee and held his mother's hand. "For you, Mama. And you too, sister. Let's not get our hopes up, okay?"

His Mama patted his cheek. "Let Port Knox see your talent and be reminded of beauty again. That's all I ask."

In the dead silence of the full moon night, Sparkle armed with his painting equipment in a brown bag, sneaked out. He knew the corners to take to avoid the cameras and sentries on duty. The city giant light stationed in the centre close to the regime's villa always moved in a 360-degree arc every ten minutes.

^{Image credit: @wakeupkitty}

He positioned himself in front of their housing unit away from the cameras' eyes and painted every nine minutes. In the one minute left, he hid in a bed of well-trimmed shrubs beside their unit until the giant light and sentries moved past.

The following morning, people gasped inwardly as they went about their duties at the beautiful painting slowly taking shape on the housing unit. The regime jailed the sentries on duty around that area for dereliction despite the street cameras revealing otherwise.

This painting continued and was perfected on the third day without Sparkle getting caught. That was when General Hum-Hum realised his security wasn't foolproof and his dictatorship was killing the populace.

Sparkle was given the first prize and his family moved to a better housing unit. Beautiful artworks by other contestants adorned the city of Port Knox and General Hum-Hum was reminded of beauty and hope. He slowly began to make changes in the city that favoured the people.

What I see

I see rows of housing apartments. The one positioned in the centre and the wall in front of it have been sprayed paint with lovely drawings.

What I feel

Beauty and hope in the air

This is my entry to A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words. To participate, click on the link.

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