TRAVIS CONSTANTINE

A Delicious Lie

In the sun-drenched land of Veridia was a town called Porto Fico and the buildings were the colour of apricots and the air smelled of basil and in the town lived a peculiar boy. His name was Leonardo. But the townsfolk did not know his secret for he was no ordinary boy. He had instead of a head a large crisp green apple perched atop his shoulders. To hide this he wore a simple lifelike mask of a human face.

Leonardo was a clever boy and he saw the townsfolk were always thirsty from the sun. So one morning he set up a stall in the piazza and the sign read “Organic Juice.” The juice was a sensation. It was sweeter and fresher and more refreshing than any juice the people of Porto Fico had ever tasted. They would queue for it and hand over their money with sweaty palms, their mouths watering. “Magnifico,” they would cry. “The taste of sunshine itself.”

What the people of Porto Fico did not know was the secret to his endless supply. They never saw him with crates of fruit. For the boy had a remarkable biological quirk. His pee was not pee at all. It was pure delicious organic apple juice. And so each morning before opening his stall he would stand on his wooden stool and fill the glasses one by one. His most devoted customer was the Mayor, Signore Zucchino, a man with a large belly and a larger opinion of himself. “This boy is a genius,” the Mayor would boom and wipe juice from his moustache. “This is the nectar of the gods.”

But in the piazza lived a sour old woman named Signora Limone and her face was perpetually miserable. She was suspicious. “Where does the juice come from?” she would mutter. “No way it is natural.” One morning she hid behind an olive tree and spied on the stall. Her eyes widened and then narrowed. She saw the whole business. On the floor lay the human mask and there stood the boy, a body with an apple for a head filling a glass from his trousers. Screeching like a cat, Signora Limone burst into the square. “He is tricking you, you fools! That apple juice is contaminated!” she shrieked and she pointed a bony finger. “It is his urina!”

The crowd gasped. Signore Zucchino froze. A silence fell over the piazza. Leonardo stood there, his apple head gleaming. Then something remarkable happened. The people thought about the juice and how it quenched their thirst. Signore Zucchino looked at his glass and he looked at the long queue and he made a decision. “Nonsense!” he roared. “The woman is mad. This is the finest juice in all of Veridia.” And he took a long defiant chug. A cheer went up.

The people of Porto Fico preferred a delicious lie to a disgusting truth. They swarmed the stall eager for more. And Signora Limone was left standing alone and her face wrinkled up permanently and she looked like a sour lemon and birds would sometimes try to peck her on the nose.

As an illustrator and a new writer, Travis loves telling stories, whether with words or with a digital pen. He draws on his artistic background to craft imaginative tales that are rich in detail and creativity.