The sun’s final moments
“If you see any suspicious baggages please notify airport staff immediately” blubbers the voice over and WHAM, the anxiety kicks in. For James, it’s not about the melodrama of the terror warnings, but it was the psychological thriller of what awaited him if he wasn’t blown up by some crazed radicals. In the hurry his breath whined silently, “How I could be so stupid...I set myself up...and so now I have to go”.
“May I have your passport please”, the lady in the cubicle was very polite but James smiled back as fake as he could. “This is your last chance to escape...pretend you are having a fit or something”, but he looked up at Mercedes and then looked down to Peter, “Shit! I’m cornered”. With that he sneered back at Mercedes and resented her; she was too happy and it was all her fault, she was to blame for everything.
Mercedes felt the brown eyes of the adolescent predator pierce through her, but she had determined to look straight ahead. She indeed felt awful for her tactics, but the promise in all this trouble was far too enticing. She half-heartedly chortled at her own motherly ingenuity; “Only a mother knows how to manipulate like”, as she had been saying to herself all morning...She deeply loved this boy and somehow saw beyond all his spoilt rebelliousness; she only ever wanted what was best for him, as though her own son. “Some things had to be done”
“Jamey...” Mercedes’ thick Spanish accent hindered her pronunciation
“Yes...” said James, as to childishly imitate his step-mum
“Are you hungry?”
Although he should have been hungry, he replied “No...”
“Well...let’s eat”. Mercedes was determined to maintain her authority. She walked briskly to the buffet with Peter’s little body following suit at her side.
Somehow the regular cardboard of airport food didn’t entice James; he knew his stomach couldn’t handle it as his mind flipped back the pages of time. For James it was as though with each page it felt like 100 lashes to his back, burdening him further; the wounds from before had not even healed. His father said to him that time before, “Just give me another chance, I’ll make it up to you” and it turned out to be just another lie. James hated that he loved his dad, and hated how he was made to feel like he owed his father. With a hollow breath a familiar voice murmured “He doesn’t deserve me...He could never deserve me”.
In her son’s state of distance, Mercedes made sure that Peter was eating his food. As the child innocently gobbled the chicken sandwich she realized how much he looked like his older brother. Admittedly, this was a physical asset, but she vexed about the likely inward traits. She glanced at James stabbing his food with the blunt butter knife and dared not to aggravate him further. “It’s not really his fault, he doesn’t know better; these situations are never happy”. Her heart was tearing at the thought of his anguish.
James recalled the last time he tried to do this; he could still remember the crazed look in his dad and the way he was driving on the Chilean highway; the fear that was hidden in his determination not to surrender...
“You know what! Stuff you! I know what you think of me!” The black eyes of John’s rage sliced into James. He was angry, angry at everyone, angry at everything. John was fed up with the vilifying antics of his children by the influence of their mother.
“What! You don’t know me!” said James defiantly. His main objective was to protect himself and to shoot the arrows back.
“Say it! You think that I’m the worst father, that I do nothing right!” John was no longer concentrating on the road and he didn’t care.
“Yes, ok, you are the world’s worst dad!”...James anger was lingering on a cliff of tears. He saw his father driving crazily but too couldn’t care less.
“And you are the world’s worst son!” John was waiting eagerly for that moment; his lips were baked dry in the heat of fury...
...“Jamey!”...Mercedes from across the table of the airport buffet sensed the direction of his mind from the held grip of his idle knife. She knew that James and Peter coming with her to Chile was the path to reconciliation with their father. She smiled at James and to her surprise was replied with a weak but similar answer. She knew that he loved her, but she knew that he was just scared; he didn’t have his own mother or his older brother to protect him now. James was to do it for himself now “it was the only way”.
“Flight L328 from Sydney to Auckland to Santiago now boarding”...
James’s stomach weighed heavily as he lifted himself off the plastic diner chair and from the corner of his eye saw the orb of setting sun make its final cry for attention. He couldn’t hide away like the sun, he had to face reality. “Why is the right thing always the hardest thing?”
Mercedes also saw the sun’s final moments. The next time she would see the sun was when they stepped off the plane, “A new sun, a new day,” she said within. Through the glaze of the window she glimpsed the palette of clouds in the evening light and with that floated back to see James’ back getting yet smaller in front of her, “God, You can do all things; nothing is too hard for You!” She wasn’t looking for a quick miracle, but rather the start of a new dawn.
What is interesting about this piece is that it may not be my best in terms of a marking scale, but rather I find this the best piece because it related to a personal circumstance some years before. This piece is beyond the superficial for me and I think this sensation expells to all who read it as something that has a deeper value
This is my above ground 3D section. The word was the verb of my Sidney Nolan text - "Moody"
This is my below ground 3D section. The word was the adjective of my Swallow text - "Satirical"
This is the sketch page that was the inspiration of my 3D Sketchup. The adjoining pieces on the top right corner was the drawing that is related to my 3D model
