The Visitor’s Gift: A Parfable

Parfables are part parable, part fable, all existential

Raspberry lived on a strange island in the middle of the sea. They dangled ever so delicately from their soft, supple stems, which had no thorns. Their fruit was the color of the sun. No other thing lived on the island. Raspberry was all alone.  

One day The Visitor arrived by boat and found Raspberry basking in the glorious sun. Their fruit was so radiant little else could be seen. It was as if each small berry was a star, and there were a thousand stars in Raspberry’s bush. The Visitor was raptured by Raspberry’s illustrious beauty and in a moment of impulsive impudence grabbed Raspberry’s plump fruit.

The Visitor looked at Raspberry’s still pulsating star in the palm of his hand. So delicate and tender it now appeared, a precious little thing, merely a reflection of the sun overhead. The Visitor plopped the pebble-sized berry in his mouth.

As Raspberry’s fruit made its journey to The Visitor’s belly, it caused a cascade of sensations. It started with a tickle upon his tongue, which became an itch in the back of his throat. That itch transformed into a burning in the pit of his stomach. The heat building inside him blinded his vision, and The Visitor standing on the shores of this strange and unfamiliar island suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home. 

He listened closely for the sounds of the waves lapping upon the shore. His boat was there somewhere along its banks. He found it by following the slight distortion in the sound where the waves hit the boat’s hull. With each step toward his boat, his vision cleared. When The Visitor threw himself over the boat’s stern and pushed himself off the island’s banks, the burning in his belly was replaced with a feeling of rich and satisfying fertility. 

The Visitor spent nine months at sea. Over and again rough waters and strong storms threatened to capsize his small boat. Over and again The Visitor closed his eyes, remembered the illustrious Raspberry, and placed his hand unknowingly on his belly. The Visitor felt a fire growing inside him, and its warmth calmed all. Then, the next tempest brewed or squall blew, and everything started all over again. 

When his boat finally landed upon the shores of his homelands, The Visitor had tripled in size. His belly looked full, as if he’d been eating the most magnificent meals amidst his most treacherous journey across the sea. Everyone wanted to know how the sea had seemed to treat him so well. But all he could recall was the vision of Raspberry and their bush full of fruit. He regaled everyone of Raspberry’s splendor, of how they were more radiant than the sun, how their fruits were a galaxy upon the shores of a strange island. 

Then everyone wanted to know how to get to this strange island, and begged The Visitor to chart the path he followed across the sea and sky. But every time he tried to remember any specifics about it, Raspberry’s illustriousness made all else seem so dull and far away. 

And just as quickly as everyone had taken an interest in The Visitor, he fell out of favor for his fuzzy details of such a fantastical story made everyone wary of him. 

Finally alone, The Visitor slowly waddled down a dirt path towards his home. Each step seemed more laborious than the one before until finally he collapsed under the weight of his own body. He crawled the final few paces. He reached up, opened the door, and dragged himself across the threshold. 

“It’s good to be home,” The Visitor exclaimed.

As The Visitor closed the door behind him, he spasmed. Then, he spasmed again. And again. Each spasm caused a flare to course through his body. It was not merely uncomfortable. It was excruciating. It blinded him to any joy or beauty and caused fear and panic to stir like a tempest. 

The Visitor remembered the storms and squalls at sea and how the fire in his belly calmed all. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dreamt of Raspberry’s bush full of fruit. The Visitor let go and surrendered to observing all simply unfold. 

He noticed that the fire in his belly had grown into Raspberry’s Seedling. It was searching for a way out. But The Seedling had inherited Raspberry’s soft, supple stems, which could not tear flesh. And there was no cavity through which The Seedling could be birthed. The Seedling wailed and thrashed about.

The Visitor felt Raspberry’s Seedling’s tears extinguishing their flame. 

“Seedling,” said The Visitor. “I took you in a moment of impulsive impudence. If it had not been for my intervention, you would not be trapped in a belly with no womb. For that, I am sorry. 

“And you have been my guide and salvation for lo these past nine months. You have calmed storms and seas and miseries. You have given me life like no other. You have made me whole. 

“Now, let me let you live,” and with that The Visitor sliced open his stomach with a blade he kept near his front door for defense. 

His guts spilled everywhere, and so too did his blood. As his spleen hit the floor, Raspberry’s Seedling emerged from behind The Visitor’s stomach. The blade of his knife nicked The Seedling’s delicate stem. Blood dripped onto their one blooming berry. 

It is from this wound that Raspberry’s first thorn grew. And it is because of the life of The Visitor that Raspberry’s radiant fruits are golden no more. 

This is how Raspberry made it to our shores and why such radiant fruits also come with thorns and are the color of blood.