nature

“Up Shit Creek without a Paddle”

The Landy had stopped again, of its own accord. Bart contemplated the beach before him. The reason why he thought of it as a beach could possibly be the sand in front of the bonnet, and the water beyond the sand  slowly creeping out of the trees and onto the track.

The wind had decided to keep him company. She’d spread out a little bit, and didn’t seem as compacted around the vehicle as she had half an hour ago, and she seemed to be enjoying whipping up little ripples of water into the air and randomly throwing them at the windscreen.

‘I am very quickly coming to the conclusion that this weather has an incredible sense of humour,’ he said.

Random question.

‘What the fuck?’ He lurched sideways on the seat, nearly strangling himself with the seatbelt.

Oh, sorry. I’m back, by the way. The man ducked his head to look out the side window at the sky. Wow, she’s doing a good job, isn’t she? I think I like this one much more than the new one. She’s a hell of a lot bigger. I wonder if she can go all around the world?

‘Why?’ Bart frowned. That was what he wanted to ask this bloke? Couldn’t he think of a better question?

Considering it’s my random question, not yours, I’m not going to answer your question until you answer mine. I think that’s fair don’t you? Fairness being the operative word here, because I am beginning to think we don’t have that around as much as we used to. Not that I’d know, because… well I won’t tell you I’m dead because I’m not dead. I’m just kinda floating around at the moment, and I’m incredibly excited to have someone to talk to. Did I tell you not too many people come down here? Never did, to be honest. They knew it was a flood plain, kinda thing, and no one wanted to get their feet wet. Go figure. Anyway, what was the random question I was going to ask you?

‘How the hell would I know?’ Bart watched the water under the trees. It didn’t seem to be moving anymore, which was lucky. He looked behind the Landrover. The back end was sitting at the edge of the hill. It seemed a lot safer here, although he hadn’t ever felt particularly unsafe this entire afternoon. He wondered what time it was. The wind blew a little harder, giving the vehicle a bit of a shake. It felt like a dog drying itself after a swim.

Oh I remember now. Have you seen her eyes yet?

‘Who’s eyes?’ Bart glanced at the man. His eyes seemed to be smiling, if that was a possibility, which it apparently was, but his mouth was kind of thinned out, and one of his long knobbly fingers was trying to tap the piece of the door where the window went in, whatever that was called, and he didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it anyway, because the finger was disappearing into the door and not making any sound. His blue-clad knee was also jiggling, which to Bart’s mind indicated the man might be ever so slightly nervous about something, and this now made Bart feel a little bit nervous himself.

Her eyes. According to the old stories she’s got eyes, but no one has ever seen them. I was just wondering whether you had.

‘Oh.’ Bart wondered if he should tell this man what he had seen on the video yesterday afternoon. It might not have been an eye. It may have just seemed like an eye. That it had been in mud, and sitting under what had definitely looked like paperbark trees, of which there seemed to be absolutely none in this area at all, had him seriously considering whether it should be mentioned to anyone at all, and now, it seemed to him that this man, whoever he was, was definitely trying to get information out of him that he did not need to know, and if Bart did tell him, he thought it was possibly not going to end well. He didn’t know why he thought this. He just did.

‘I didn’t see any eyes.’

Why not? Oh fuck. That’s a word I just learnt from you, but I think it’s appropriate. She knows I’m here. The man’s body began to tremble.

‘Who knows you’re here,’ Bart asked, just as the wind started smacking into the passenger side door.

Your lizard friend. She doesn’t like me now, let me tell you. Infact, I am getting the felling fulfilling feeling she wants to eat me, but not too badly, under-snafi fring, wow, I better go.

And, just like that, the man disappeared again, the four-wheel-drive was pushed about five feet up the hill, and the rain really started pissing down.

Bart decided to put on the handbrake.

7/ Making do

Solway found herself sitting on a very apologetic woman’s knee while the woman’s husband frowned furiously at a GPS.

‘I’m sorry there isn’t any more room,’ the woman said for about the third time. ‘We were just heading home from a camping trip,’ she added, which was new information. ‘Ronald likes to take absolutely everything on a camping trip, no matter how short or long it is. He likes to be… –’   She raised her hands on either side of Solway’s head and made ditto marks in the air with her fingers. ‘ – Prepared. Don’t you, darl.’ The last little bit didn’t seem to be a question.

‘I think we’ve lost the signal,’ he replied, which didn’t make much sense.

Solway very carefully adjusted her backside on the woman’s knees. This was a little awkward. The front seats of this vehicle were bucket seats, and every other part of it seemed filled with camping equipment, which was possibly why the woman seemed to be apologising so much. It also now seemed that what she had just said may have been a little white lie, as the woman’s husband (at least Solway thought it was her husband, they seemed rather familiar with each other) had now stopped looking at the thing in his hand and started looking at his wife.

‘I’m not the one who likes to keep this vehicle filled with random camping gear, Jenny, you are. I mean, it’s fair enough that I seem to like getting all the latest new gear and like to see what it does and so on and so forth, but it’s not me who wants to keep it all in the vehicle. That’s you.’

‘Well, I’m not the one who leaves it all lying all over the living room floor and filling up the spare room with it all, and pulling it all out to play with every now and again. That’s you,’ she replied. ‘I think it’s better having it all together in one spot.’

‘Which happens to be this vehicle,’ he said. ‘Which, you know, we shouldn’t really be doing, because adding too much weight to said vehicle is a damn good way to get us bogged in hairy situations such as this one could be, and besides that, if we wanted to pick up random hitchhikers in the middle of the bush, where the hell would we put them? No offence,’ he said, grinning at Solway. ‘But I’m sure my wife’s lap is not where you’d like to be sitting right now.’

‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re putting your safety at risk by picking me up,’ said Solway, then blinked. Where had that come from? ‘I mean, not that your safety is at risk. I just thought I’d put that out there.’

The man, Ronald was his name wasn’t it, grinned. ‘I would be more concerned about whether your safety is at risk, ah… What’s your name?’

‘I think, if my safety was at risk,’ Solway said. ‘You probably wouldn’t be asking my name.’ She began to smile, then hit her head on the window as the woman underneath her adjusted her knees.

‘Sorry,’ the woman, whose name was Jenny if Solway remembered correctly, said. ‘I’m Jenny. This is Ronald, and please don’t turn around to shake my hand because there is just not enough bloody room in the cab for that to happen in a nice way and you’ll probably elbow me in the boob.’

Solway couldn’t help it. She started to chuckle. ‘I’m Solway.’

‘That is an awesome name,’ Jenny said. ‘Where does that name come from,’ she asked, just as her husband said…

‘Is that Norwegian?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cool. I think I have Norwegian relatives from way back in the day. Maybe they were Dutch. Can’t remember. That’s a cool name though. Do you know anything about GPS’s?’ He looked down at the little piece of machinery in his hand. ‘This thing is going haywire. It keeps losing the signal, and that’s just not something that happens.’

‘Why not,’ his wife asked.

‘Because it collects information from satellites,’ Ronald and Solway said at the same time.

Solway tapped her lip thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure whether we really need it though. I just want to get down to where Bart is, and get … Oh.’ She looked in the backseat of the vehicle again. ‘We can’t, can we.’

‘No, we can’t. Well, we can, but there wouldn’t be too much we could do. That’s why I was trying to get the coordinates, so I would be able to place a marker so we could make sure we came back to the right spot, kind of thing,’ Ronald explained. ‘I suppose I could make some kind of physical marker.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to put the marker at your entry point,’ Jenny said. ‘Rather than, you know, randomly half way down a track.’

‘Does this track veer off anywhere? Like, does it have forks, or pull off points, or random “I’ll just go this way today” mini track type things on it? Just out of curiosity,’ Ronald asked, ignoring his wife.

‘No, it’s just one straight line,’ Solway replied. ‘Well, almost. I mean it turns, but there aren’t any other tracks, not that I could see.’

‘Okay then. Well, we should be right.’ Ronald looked over his shoulder and out of the driver’s side window. ‘I’m going to have to reverse her up off the track so I can turn around. Not that I can see a bloody thing. This rain is insane.’ He scowled as he turned back to face Solway and the wife Solway was quite sure she was squashing into the seat. ‘Maybe we should wait until it stops so I can get a clear view of what we’re backing into. I’ve done this before, and it didn’t turn out well.’

Solway felt her heart sink. It didn’t look like they’d be getting back to Bart this afternoon. As lovely as these people seemed to be, they had their hands full and there seemed to be absolutely no way they could help make things better. Not immediately anyway. She stared out the window at the sleeting rain.

I hope that creek hasn’t risen too much. He’ll be in serious trouble if it has.

‘You don’t happen to have any bars on your phone, do you,’ she asked hopefully.

‘I’m afraid not,’ the woman underneath her muttered. ‘We lost bars as we were coming down from that siding further up on the main road. It didn’t seem too important at the time. I’m sure your partner will be fine,’ she added hurriedly. ‘These sort of things happen all the time, like Ronald said. He’s been in enough situations like this himself. Try not to worry too much about it.’

‘Easier said than done,’ Solway replied, not bothering to hide the distress in her voice.

‘I know how it feels,’ Jenny said softly. Solway noticed her husband’s face had gone very still. ‘Let’s get you back to where the siding is, and maybe then you’ll be able to start making calls. We’ll work out what to do from there.’

‘We can’t do that just yet,’ Ronald reminded them. ‘We have to wait for this rain to stop or we could end up in the exact same situation.’

Storm (continued), and Windy

Bart realised he was quite good at reversing. He hadn’t been going particularly fast, which helped, but now he was beginning to wonder how the hell he was moving at all.

‘It’s got a flat,’ he said to himself, remembering why they had stopped in the first place.

It’s got four “flats”, actually. That’s what you call those rubber things with no air in them under this “fourby” isn’t it?

‘Oh, you’re still here.’

The man with the big brown eyes and the blue suit beside him smiled. I never left. You just started ignoring me when you were congratulating yourself on what a good job you were doing. He leant back in the passenger seat, part of his back seeming to disappear into it. Not that I mind. Most people ignore me when they come out here. You just seemed to notice me when I woke you up. Have you ever thought about why?

‘I haven’t had much time to think about anything except going backwards,’ Bart replied testily.

And the fact you’ve got four flats, the man reminded him.

‘Why do I have four flat tyres?’ Bart stopped the four-wheel-drive.

It’s better on soft sand, that’s why.

‘How do you know that?’

You read it somewhere, I think.

‘I read it somewhere?’

Yep. That’s how it works. I’m still getting the hang on your brain but the more you think, the more I learn, which is kind of awesomeness.

Bart couldn’t help grinning. ‘Some of that was a little bit wrong.’

I’m not fucking genuses.

The wheezing cackle that escaped Bart’s mouth surprised him. ‘No. I suppose not.’ He looked out through the windshield. The rain was pelting down now, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger.

Pelting down? Like fox pelts? I do not see any of those around here. Feral. That’s right. Rabbits. Oh so this is right, cool and death defying.

A vision of red and grey furs softly thumping the exterior of the four-wheel-drive popped into Bart’s brain. ‘This is possibly the oddest situation I’ve ever found myself in,’ he mumbled under his breath.

No kidding. Oh hey, she’s coming again. Not too far away now. You might feel a bit of a shudder. 

‘What?’ Bart knew what the man meant. He was referring to the legless lizard thing he’d been talking about earlier. ‘I thought we left her behind?’

Left her behind? Not likely. You know, I think this isn’t the one I’m used to. The man frowned, and for the first time Bart noticed his magnificent eyebrows. I think this is the old one.’

‘There’s a new one?’

Well, there’s the one I know, and the one that’s a lot older than me. Haven’t seen her for… Well… I haven’t seen her. She went into the ground long before I came along.

‘I’m afraid to ask.’ Bart looked at the man carefully. ‘It’s kind of dangerous for me to ask this anyway, seeing as I’m supposed to have no idea, but…’ He took a deep breath. ‘When did you come along?’

When the land was still all joined up, that’s when. Might have done a bit of island hopping. Not too sure. It was a long time ago. Came down from the top to here. Took a while but you know, it happened. The man looked down at himself. Obviously.  I’m here.

‘So when did the “old one”, as you put it, come along?’

She didn’t “come along”. She was here the whole time. She kindly made this for us/you/me/ them. I’m getting misty. Mateship. Lingering. Obviously.

‘Are you alright?’

The man did indeed seem to be getting “misty” as he put it. Bart couldn’t find quite the correct term for exactly “what” the man was trying to explain, but he appeared to be sliding down through the vehicle’s floor.

Oops, the man said quietly, then disappeared. It was about that time the wind hit.

Windy

6/ Windy

The vehicle shuddered on its flat tyres then seemed to dig itself into the ground as the wind struck. It was almost like a physical thing had run up and surrounded him on all sides without Bart being able to see it.

He should feel trapped, but he didn’t. The funny thing was, if anything could be funny in this particular moment in time, the wind seemed to have come to a sudden halt. It wasn’t not moving, it just wasn’t going anywhere.

It was almost like a huge dog had run up, knocked him over and now bounced around and licked his face – or would be licking his face if it could get inside the cab, which it couldn’t.

Maybe it was more like one of the lions or tigers in one of those African safari parks that jumped on the roof and everyone sat inside and stared at it, titillated but reasonably safe until one idiot rolled the window down.

Bart contemplated if today, he would be that idiot.

He decided against it. It just didn’t seem like the right time for idiocy. Not at this point. Maybe later. He stared through the windscreen. The shrubbery on the side of the road, and he used the word shrubbery loosely when explaining wattle trees to himself, was waving around madly, the light branches bending steeply in the direction of the hill behind him, but the trees in front, where the wind did not appear to be, stood still, like nothing was touching them, not even a breeze.

He was finding it difficult to control his thoughts. They seemed to be racing wildly around inside his head, just like this wind seemed to be doing outside.

‘Just go with it,’ he said to himself politely, which was odd, but it also seemed easier if he spoke out loud to think what he really meant, because now if he kept his mouth closed the mental words were just leaping about with gay abandon and depositing themselves on his thoughts and making everything look, (well everything that was inside his head anyway) …everything look like someone had come inside and thrown around a pile of laundry without a care in the world, despite the open drawers waiting for them.

‘Smart move,’ he called to the wind. ‘I like you too.’

The wind sighed and hushed, then picked up into a gale, then screamed and lost its way and failed to be exactly what he wanted it to be, and then fainted, only to get up and try it all over again.

‘You’ve got some cool moves there,’ Bart said, although he didn’t know why.

Maybe you can play with me, and see where we go, and we can get up and fall down down and run around naked and freak out, and freak in and laugh our way to the top of the world and fall back down, and vertically hover like a moonbeam on a hot day and frequently decide we aren’t going to do this anyway

‘No problem,’ said Bart. ‘I have a feeling I should be slightly afraid right now. I can’t see anyone talking to me.’

Despite your efforts to be totally cool, your mother always sees you as a greasy haired vertical twig with a pot belly You should make sure to brush to the left and not to the right and send loving messages to bestial freaks from afar and western breathtaking breweries make good beer Maybe we should go to the pub

The words floated and shimmered around him as the wind blew, and Bart, being Bart, thought this was the possibly the most exciting moment in his life, aside from that time about nine months ago when he’d met Solway in the newsagency. He also wondered, and not so briefly, whether he should start the fourby up again and keep reversing until he at least got to the bottom of the hill, because he thought, if he stayed here, there might be a high possibility the creek, which was likely no longer a creek but a very fast moving river, would come up past the line of wattle trees and be on the track where he currently was, and it might be a bit hard to get out of there.

He turned the key in the ignition. Like a heartbeat in motion, which was a very odd way to describe a okay I’m just going with it then, the vehicle started up, put itself in reverse, and Bart looked over his shoulder simply for the fact it seemed like a good idea to look like he was actually controlling the very fast reversing of said vehicle, because if anyone was watching, not that anyone was, and saw he didn’t even have his hands on the steering wheel and perhaps was merely a passenger and not even a guide, they might think now was a good time to call the cops because Bartholomew Branson had probably lost his marbles.

He fervently agreed.

Then he decided he should probably place his hands gently on the steering wheel, like his driving instructor had told him to many years before, because if anyone happened to be reading this in their heads later in the day, not that it was likely as he hadn’t written it down, keeping hands on the steering wheel was a very safe thing to do, and the last thing he wanted, when he started up his vlogging business, was have anyone say that Bart Brand was an unsafe influencer.

Not that he’d ever been an influencer of any description, but if he became one, ever, he’d rather be one for good rather than bad, and this seemed like the best possible moment to think that.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

Solway had just come to the conclusion she did not like rain. The rain had stopped some time ago. It had just become really windy, and not in a particularly good way, because her clothing had been soaked through and now she would have to take all her wet gear off in the middle of a track on the side of this very long slope, and try not to let any of her clothes blow away while she was attempting to put them on. She unslung her backpack and let it drop to the ground.

She did not stop to wonder why she was thinking in very long sentences. It was too bloody cold for that. She thought, in fact, that she should probably be thinking in very short, vertically challenged, sentences, because the shivering she currently experienced made her brain think in static, up and down, stop start, beeping machine-like thoughts, rather than long flowing thoughts, and now she had just repeated the same idea in one thought, which would be highly unlikely under any other circumstance because the training she had done before becoming a weather presenter did not allow for that sort of thing and…

‘Fuck. Where the hell is my jumper?’

She stomped a foot down on a dainty pair of knickers someone had thoughtfully placed in her backpack for no reason at all. Letting her underwear fly off into the sunset didn’t seem like a very good idea.

Ah, there it was, under the…

‘Goddammit.’ Bart had also put what looked like a very cheap, but extremely practical, plastic poncho in a side pocket, and if Solway had noticed it earlier, perhaps she would not have found herself in this current predicament.

The predicament being; half-naked standing on a slope covered in short prickly bushes in the middle of the afternoon.

She’d put her jumper on first and then perhaps get out of her jeans and attire herself in those very comfortable warm, fluffy looking tracksuit pants that were not going to fly off into the sunset at all.

*stomp*

Solway sighed. Well. Hopefully someone would get some use out of that sparkly, frilly, lace covered and not in the least bit practical, pair of underwear one day. They certainly seemed to be enjoying the weather, floating around in the breeze like a large demented butterfly. She pulled the jumper over her head.

‘Ooh-hoo-hooo, lovely.’ The warmth was immediate and indeed rather lovely. She unzipped her jeans. A large, black range rover appeared over the rise in front of her. The driver began to grin. Solway, literally, had just been caught with her pants around her ankles. 

‘Oh great. Just great.’ She waved. 

It seemed appropriate and if she thought about it (which at this point she didn’t really want to do) it was probably better they’d appeared in front of her. If they had come up behind her they would have got a full display. As it was though, and she could count her lucky stars for this one, she was semi-squatting and the rather large jumper she had, extremely fortunately, just put on, disguised the fact Solway Endersans was currently wearing no underwear. The vehicle stopped.

‘Need a hand?’ The man grinned, then winced as the passenger Solway had only just noticed, smacked him in the arm.

‘Don’t be such a wanker, Ronald.’ The woman got out of the vehicle and strode towards Solway, a thermos in her grip. ‘I’ll stand in front of you, if you like, while you put your trackies on, then we’ll discuss whether you have sugar or not, and why the hell you are out here in the middle of nowhere.’

Solway smiled. It felt like the first genuine smile she’d made at another human being aside from Bart for quite some time. The sudden tears in her eyes were probably from the wind rushing down this slope and she wiped them away quickly with the hand not holding onto her forgotten jeans.

‘Thankyou,’ she said.

‘You’re welcome.’

Bunyip of the Blackwood; Chocolate and Direction

After making absolutely positive Bart had the car keys, Solway left. There had been no particular ceremony in it, or passionate goodbyes – she’d just gone. It was a bit of a let down, in Bart’s opinion. He’d checked on her departing figure a couple of times as she’d walked off along the track, but somewhere between the rise and fall of hillocks he’d not even known were there, she disappeared.

‘Well, I can’t stand around here all day waiting for her to come back,’ he thought, although that’s exactly what he had in mind. ‘I’ll clean up, I suppose.’

He did the dishes, pulled everything out of the back of the Landy, repacked it again (and much better, he thought – he’d always been told his spatial awareness was off the charts), then unpacked it all again when he realised he couldn’t get to the things he wanted as easily as he thought he could. It seemed practicality was a part of packing for camping. Who knew?

Well, he did. Now.

Bart checked his watch. Great. Only an hour had passed. Pulling out the little winding mechanism on the side, he gave it several turns, and tapped the glass for good measure. How would Solway fare when her own digital watch ran out of battery?

Christ, he was being dramatic again.

‘Nobody cares, Bart,’ he said to the trees, then sat down heavily in his camp chair and stared at his boots. ‘Nobody cares.’

God he felt bored.

Maybe he should go back down to the creek again and have a real good squizzy at it? Maybe he could get some mood shots in black and white from his phone? Ooh! Maybe he could do micro shots or whatever it was they were called, and get real closeups of some of the different flora and fauna around the place. He looked around. Not that there was really much to take any good shots of, unless you really liked wattle leaves.Maybe there was something a little more interesting the way Solway had walked?

Bart stood up. He’d just got an idea. Maybe, like those old explorer types did, he could follow the creek a little way, see if it turned anything into like the landscape he’d seen where that (even now he didn’t want to say it was an eye, but it was, goddammit) eye was, and get some photos down there. Then, at least, when Solway came back, she could get some video, or make his photos into video, or something, and they could do stuff with it, and post it on his channel, and maybe, just maybe, someone might find it interesting enough to tell someone else, and maybe they might just get somewhere for a change.

First of all, though, he might just grab himself a cup of tea.

And, maybe, a little piece of chocky.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

She’d finally reached the bend. How long had that taken? An hour and a half? It hadn’t looked that far on the map. Solway adjusted the straps on her backpack. Her legs were getting one hell of a workout in this soft sand. It would be nice to be able to walk on the hump between the ruts in the track, but there could be snakes, so it wasn’t a risk she was prepared to take.

Sunscreen had begun to get in her eyes. It stung. She pulled her cap down lower. One foot in front of the other. It’s the only way she’d be getting anywhere.

______________o_______________

He’d decided against the chocolate. He’d made himself a nice cup of tea and cupped the metal mug in his hands as he sat quietly in the shade, the brim of his floppy hat drawn low. On the other side of the track, past the harsh line of sunlight reflecting off the sand, colour flickered next to a sapling. It was a perfect shade of electric blue. The tiny bird bounced from one less-than-exciting leaf to another, little head cocked on one side. It seemed to be looking for something. A slow smile formed on Bart’s face as three more little birds popped out of the bushes. They were varying shades of brown and seemed to be quite friendly with the first one. Each of them darted off in slightly different directions, like a little gang of pickpockets. He grinned. 

‘Cheeky little bastards,’ he said softly.

The first bird, so tiny that if it were in Bart’s hand he’d be able to cup his fingers over it without even touching its feathers, looked over at him inquiringly. It didn’t seem in the least bit afraid. Bart supposed it was because the little man had three girlfriends. Tough little chicks, he thought, then smiled to himself. 

I could make this into a movie.

In the movie, the male bird, a fairy wren if he remembered correctly, would be riding an electric blue motorbike, and the three females would be strutting around threatening people with… Hmmm. Bart stroked his beard. They’d be threatening people with tiny caterpillars that squirted green gunk when you squeezed them.

I should write this down.

He frowned. I should be taking photos, that’s what I should be doing. Fuck.

He stood up, the camp chair collapsed and just like that, the four little birds disappeared.

Before I go, did you want to help me with

‘Before I go, did you want to help me with the dishes,’ Solway asked just as Bart was grabbing a tea towel.

‘Sure,’ he said, holding the tea towel aloft and flapping it at her. Then he got a good idea. ‘Would you like me to get some extra water from that creek?’

‘What creek?’

‘The one over there.’ He pointed vaguely off into the bush where that strange thump had come from. It had probably been his imagination. Weird things happened early in the morning.

‘I didn’t hear a creek.’ Solway glanced at him sideways as she picked up a large water container.

‘You didn’t hear a creek?’

‘No.’

‘There’s a creek just over there.’ Again, Bart pointed towards where he’d heard the running water. ‘Wouldn’t it be better, if I’m going to be here for a while, for us to use water from the creek to wash dishes, rather than wasting what we’ve got?’

‘Sure,’ Solway scowled. ‘But I didn’t hear a creek, Bart.’

‘Look, just give me a bucket, and I’ll go and get some water.’

‘If you think there’s a creek, Bartholomew Bransson, then get your own fucking bucket. I’m the one doing the dishes.’

‘Wow.’ Bart stomped back to the open rear of the four-wheel-drive. ‘Okay then. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

‘Don’t get lost,’ she called as he walked back into the scrub.

‘Yeah. Fuck you too,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Now you’ve got me second guessing myself, there had better be a fucking creek.’

It wasn’t as dark under the wattle trees now. Patches of sunlight shone through the branches creating little specks of gold on the leafy ground. Something not too far off scuttled under a bush.

Lizard, Bart thought. Not much else would survive in this.

The gurgling sound of water became louder. Debris from the bushes crackled under his feet as he stepped out into the light. The creek was about two metres below him. He backed up. Bits of the bank had fallen into the water, but not too recently. He needed to find a way down.

Why am I even bothering, he thought to himself. I’ll tell me why, he replied. Because I’m going to prove a point to myself this morning if it’s the last bloody thing I do.

He stepped down sideways on the soft ground, the empty bucket swaying from one fist. There were exposed roots here, and he could use them for traction if he needed to. The water wasn’t rushing or anything, so it wasn’t like it was dangerous.

‘Can you swim?’

Solway. Jesus Christ, woman can’t you leave me alone?

‘I don’t think I need to.’

‘I was joking.’

‘Very funny.’

‘So you found this creek.’

‘I did.’ He stepped further down, one foot slipping slightly. He grabbed at a root to steady himself.

‘Need a hand?’

‘I’ve got it.’ He glanced up. Solway was sitting on the side of the bank, legs dangling over the slight drop. She smiled brightly, blue eyes laughing at him. He didn’t smile back. ‘Why don’t you go back to the Landy and start cleaning up?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘And miss out on this? Not likely.’

‘You are not helping me in any way by sitting there and watching, Solway.’ Bart stepped down again. He was really doing quite well, in his humble opinion. ‘Kindly bugger off, and let me get on with it.’

‘Okay then.’

She must have stood up then, because sand cascaded down the slope past his shoulder. Not too far now, and he’d be able to get some water. His feet began to slide. ‘Oh no.’ He looked up again, but she had gone. ‘Thank god,’ he said as he landed on his side and slipped feet first gracefully into the creek. Grinning to himself, he dipped the bucket in and filled it up with water.

Solway wandered back to the camp, carefully stepping over the fallen branches. She’d need to make sure Bart was comfortable by himself before she left. The one thing she was not going to do though, was the dishes without him there. He seemed quite adamant he wanted to help, for reasons unknown, and she respected that.

Bart had never asked what Solway had done for a living before he came along, and the last thing she wanted to talk about was what it was like to work in the industry. Just thinking about it made her feel like spitting, but seeing as there was no one to spit at, she wasn’t wasting her energy.

Some men were absolute pigs. Some women were too, to be honest.

She wasn’t going to think about that today, though. That was not why she was here. Reaching the sand track quite quickly, Solway decided to take a decent gander at their surroundings. The fact she hadn’t even heard the creek Bart was talking about made her feel slightly out-of-whack, and certainly not as comfortable in her own skin as she should be feeling right now.

There was something about this area that, if she thought about it too deeply, was distinctly off-putting.

She folded up the camp chairs and placed them in the back of the Discovery on top of the swags.

‘Dammit,’ she mumbled. ‘What am I thinking? Bart needs a chair, and he needs his swag. What I need to do is just stop for a minute.’ Taking a deep breath, she began to pull it all out again. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t even eaten.

Well, there was no time for that. If Bart could just get a move on from retrieving his bloody bucket of water, they could do the dishes and she’d be on her way. She looked at her watch. The sun had been up for almost two hours now, so she really shouldn’t be wasting any more time.

She took a deep breath. ‘BART.’

‘Kitten?’ He appeared next to her like some kind of wizard, the amazingly full, blue bucket swinging gently by his side. ‘You want to get going don’t you,’ he added. ‘I can tell.’

‘Yes, I really don’t want to stay longer than I have to.’ She dragged the backpack towards herself to check it again.

‘I’m just a little bit concerned about you walking off by yourself,’ Bart said. He was such a sweet guy when he wasn’t being a pain in the arse.

‘I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you,’ she replied, turning to face him.

‘I can look after myself okay, Sol. I did it for years before you came along.’

‘I know, but…’ She looked at his legs. From the knee down they were extremely wet. He must have taken an accidental paddle in that creek. She pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice. He was busy monologuing, and most of it made sense.

‘You don’t need to control everything,’ he continued ‘Have you got something to defend yourself with? You know, if some evil people decide to pick you up or something.’

Solway laughed then, long and loud, and kissed her partner on the cheek. ‘You’re an idiot. I can handle myself, don’t worry about that. Nobody will get close enough to get handsy, so I doubt anyone will be dragging me into their car anytime soon.’

‘You don’t know that though.’

‘We’re not in a place where that kind of thing is the norm, Bartholomew. I think you’ve been reading too many of your magazines.’

He smiled then, and she sighed with relief. She had been pushing him this morning, she knew it, but just as she’d expected, Bart had stepped up and made himself useful.

‘Why don’t you get going then,’ he said, surprising her once more. ‘I can do these dishes. And,’ he lifted a finger and shook it at her. ‘I’ll clean up the campsite as well.’

‘Don’t pack everything up just yet,’ she warned. ‘I might not get back tonight.’

‘Do you think it will take that long? It’s not like we’re in the middle of nowhere.’

‘I know, but it will likely take me a few hours to get where I need to go. I’m walking, remember. Then, if they actually have reception, I can make a call. If not, I’ll have to rely on someone else to get the help we need. These things can take longer than expected sometimes, that’s all. I need you to be aware of that.’

‘Oh.’ He smoothed his beard, eyes beginning to lose focus.

‘There’s chocolate in the console between the front seats.’ Solway nodded at the car, then pushed his shoulder gently. ‘Why don’t you wait until you really want it. It can be a reward.’

the rest of that very short chapter, and a little bit more… (story completed in March 2025 over an eleven day period). You’re Welcome

He pushed her hand away. ‘No thanks. I can get up by myself.’ The sideways roll onto his hands and knees and the flailing grasp at a dining chair had him reconsidering those words a few moments later. He crawled to the wall, vaguely resembling a portly tug-boat in high seas with a broken motor. It must have set something off in his insides as well for, as he scrambled to find purchase on the smooth surface of the plasterboard, his backside let out what may have been in any other orchestral situation, a sliding trombone-like sound.

‘Fuck me,’ he heard from behind him, accompanied by a most unlady-like snort.

‘Shush,’ he said. ‘My body is obviously extrememememely excited.’

‘Apparently,’ Solway responded as he slowly lurched to his feet. ‘Okay. I’ve made an executive decision. Get the camera gear packed up. I’m going downstairs to check what supplies we have remaining. If I don’t come back, I’ve gone to the shops. We’ve got about forty-five minutes until they close, so I need to get moving.’

‘Okay. While you’re down there,’ he said as she strode towards the front door. ‘Could you see if we’ve got any…’ The door slammed behind her. ‘…Yoghurt… Bugger.’

~~~~,~’~~~,~’~80>

2/ “Popcorn”

Solway demanded they start back to the campsite as soon as possible when she’d returned from the supermarket, despite the fact they’d be driving into the night. Their hasty departure had been a little too exciting, especially when accompanied by questions Bart couldn’t answer.

‘I don’t even know where it is,’ he said as she shuttled him to the old Discovery. ‘It could be bloomin’ anywhere, Sol, we were all over the southwest escarpment on the weekend.’

‘We’ll find it,’ she’d replied, almost throwing him towards the passenger door. She ignored his masculine mutters of surprise. ‘Just get in the car and put on your seatbelt.’

‘I am NOT a child,’ he muttered, hunching down in his seat and refusing to suck his thumb.

She’d ignored him and started the engine.

By the time they’d hit the bridge two hours later, Solway had made the decision to go offroad.

‘We’ll take this one.’ She slowed and nodded at a fire break rising beyond the reflective posts. ‘Might be a little bit faster getting back to where we were last.’

‘You don’t even know if that’s where it was,’ he protested but again she ignored him.

That’s when things got a little hairy.

He’d always trusted Solway, but after the hour and a half drive into the oncoming night, it was almost like something possessed her. The headlights of the Land Rover waved crazily over the darkened scene as the trail entered a local forest. Low bushes began to scrape the side of the vehicle and slid underneath the chassis with inhuman shrieks. Bart became quite sure his life was at risk — despite the fact they were only doing about ten k’s an hour.

‘Do we know this track,’ he asked. ‘Doesn’t look like it’s been used for quite a while.’ He peered out the window at very large trees and dense shrubbery. It looked very dark out there.

‘No,’ Solway answered, and he noticed her grip on the steering wheel changed. ‘I don’t want to break a thumb,’ she muttered at his silent question.

Bart blinked furiously and turned off the radio. That’s when he began to feel like popcorn in a frying pan.

They lurched and jerked over holes, his shoulder hitting the door with frequent abandon. He was quite positive it would bruise his sensitive skin. Branches swiped at the windscreen, scarred trunks of the occasional eucalypt leapt up in front of them, and it seemed only Solway’s impressive reaction time was stopping them from hitting anything at all.

He was not sure whether he should tell her he loved her, or ask her to stop. He settled with holding onto his seat and the handle above the door for dear life.

They finally came to a halt after a descent onto level ground where the sand that had slowly replaced the firm dirt of the hill became too soft. Solway’s grim face, after a quick inspection of the vehicle with a flashlight revealed a flicked-up branch had pierced the back tyre, had him assuming they had not yet replaced the spare. They’d have to doss down here for the night.

~~~~,~’~~~,~’~80>

The Magnet — from her

As they winked out one by one

He laughed and shook his head

It was time to be

Her enemy for she had gone to bed

This could be your time forever

He does not want to go

But when a hero calls my name

I cannot let him know

Why do you wear a red dress

When you should be dressed in white

Why do I wear a turban

When my life becomes your light?

It’s the first time you’ve been down here

And the last time I’ve been up

But somewhere in the middle we forget to say

Make some noise…

Let me go, come back

Hate me, stay away.

For if she does not love me

I will never go astray.

The Temple

Do you remember the conversation had from a car window to a man?

I do. It was a shared experience. It was personal. Nobody needed to back down, and I may have told him to pick his rubbish up, which may very well have been met with laughter. He did, by the way. Everyone recognises mum’s voice. I also apologised for using the mum voice, which may have made it even funnier.

Do you remember the conversation had outside a little house? ‘They’re getting cleverer,’ she said, and she wasn’t wrong. She didn’t recognise this place anymore. I admired her strength and her courage and told her so. It was meant to be kept private.

Do you know what it means when we go down to the beach and use the salt water to wash it all away? We knew each other then, and we know each other now, but we do not know each other. How does that sound?

Many years ago, when I was young, a priest told his gathering that the church was not a building and it was not a place. It was inside you, and it still is. You look up, inside yourself and you see the ceiling with the exposed beams, even if you’ve never seen anything like it before, and you may wonder where it came from. It’s yours. Perhaps the ceiling has gold leaf, perhaps it’s simply a golden wood, but if you watch carefully you can see the tiny little golden flecks of light coming down from that ceiling and wash its way around you, and help you feel stronger.

Do you remember that? It is your temple. You have the power to choose between what is right, and what is wrong.

— What is morally right, and what is morally wrong.

— What will destroy, and what will live and let live without creating a stain on your soul. This will bring you here, to this present, to your gift, to you, “beau”. Not all of us carry it lightly. Not all of us can walk through the crowd unnoticed, and sometimes it is simply a choice of whether one wishes to be noticed or not.

You can turn it off, if you want to. You can pretend it didn’t happen. You can simply forget we ever existed, if it makes you feel better. Will it make you feel better?

Then walk back down to the water’s edge, and release your little fish into the water. Watch him swim away. He’s not coming back, and you are the one who made that choice.

She’s not coming back, and you made that choice. I did not instigate your behaviour. That choice falls on you, and you alone. Love is not always what you want it to be. It’s not always pretty and unfortunately, it’s not always kind. This is the difference between nature and superstition, and I thank her for my time.

Don’t just read the sections of a book that interest or excite you. Read the whole bloody thing. A fifteen second miracle lasts as long as fifteen seconds. A lasting impression is not a cannon ball run.

Perhaps none of it will make sense to you. Perhaps all of it does. Perhaps that’s the entire point. Perhaps, you should start listening to what really matters, and not just what you think might matter. It’s always your choice. It’s never mine.

The Sea Eagle.

It had made a nest on top of the antenna — a nest which had been there for many years by the hill near the police station, so the white-bellied Sea Eagle found herself in the perfect position to see the Silver Gull land at the river’s mouth.

It cocked its head. The gull had a larger bird with it, which had just landed, and the eagle could not make out what kind of bird it was. It looked very similar to the seagull (which is the common name for the silver gull that had alighted on the beach) but it seemed, if not half as big again, at least a third as big. Why the sea eagle found this amusing, it did not know.

It flew down a little nearer, landing on one of the many sheoaks closer to the river’s mouth. These trees were coated with shag (cormorant) poop, and smelled awful, but it did not deter the eagle from watching the two birds as they made themselves comfortable by the large piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand.

They seemed to be having quite an animated conversation.

The Sea Eagle had never been particularly good at reading lips and the fact the birds did not have lips but beaks, made it even harder. All she could really hear, from her precarious perch on a tree limb (which was much too fragile to hold a bird her size) was loud and obnoxious squawking.

Perhaps they had found something to eat?

The smaller bird strutted back and forth on the golden sand, arching its neck and glaring down at its orange legs for reasons the eagle could not fathom. She glanced down at her own pale feet where her talons grasped the thickest part of the branch. Those birds did not appear to have talons. In fact they seemed to be wearing flippers, or fins, on their feet which, in her humble opinion, wouldn’t catch any decent food at all.

She’d never really thought about this before. If they couldn’t catch food in those ridiculous shoes, how the heck were they going to be able to eat anything? Perhaps it was the reason why the smaller bird (which seemed to be yelling at the top of its voice while the larger one stood there looking slightly nonplussed) seemed to be so angry?

‘Maybe I should go down to that beach and see what the heck is going on,’ the eagle thought to herself. ‘I can help these two ridiculous birds get some food, and then they can leave.’ 

She had already decided having new strangers in her town, especially birds she had never seen before (the taller one was really very odd-looking) was not something she felt comfortable with, especially if they were going to continue being as loud and as noisy as they currently were.

The silver gull tried to peck the bigger bird.

‘Right, that’s it,’ thought the sea eagle angrily. ‘I’m going in.’

She flapped her strong wings once and then twice as the springy branch underneath her bounced up and down, then let go with her talons and swooped towards the two gulls, scaring the bejebus out of them as she landed on the piece of driftwood.

‘What the by-crikey-Jimmy-Joe-Bobs is going on,’ she asked. ‘And who the heck are you?’

\./   \./   

Pepe, after recovering from the huge bird landing so closely beside them, glanced at his smaller companions. ‘Uh, so this is Aaaargh, and the tiny one is Ambrosia.’

‘Ambrosia? Where?’ The sea eagle glared at him. 

She really was quite large, Pepe thought. He didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was just really big. Her wing span, something he’d noticed as she’d flown in towards them, had been at least two metres across.

‘The ladybird.’ He gulped. ‘The ladybird is Ambrosia. Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, if we’re going to get picky. Which we’re not,’ he added quickly, noticing the hook on the end of the eagle’s beak.

‘A ladybird?’ The eagle cocked its head. ‘I haven’t seen one of those in quite some time. Where is this ladybird?’

‘On my back,’ said Aaaargh loudly.

‘She’s not deaf, you fool,’ hissed Pepe. ‘She’s an eagle. She’s got good eyes.’

‘How does that make you not deaf,’ Aaaargh squawked.

‘I don’t know. How come you’re blind, when you’re also supposed to have good eyes,’ Pepe hissed again ‘This is a sea eagle we’re dealing with, mate. I suggest you be on your best behaviour.’

The eagle ignored their chatter. ‘Where is this ladybird?’

‘I told you where she is. She’s on my back.’ Aaaargh began to jump up and down in a most unsightly manner.

‘Show me,’ the eagle demanded.

Pepe noticed Ambrosia crawl out from under one of Aaaargh’s silver-white feathers.

‘Hello,’ said the ladybird. ‘My name is Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot.’ She lifted her bonnets and wiggle-flew over to the eagle’s beak, landing quite carefully right on the end of the hook.

The white-bellied Sea Eagle crossed her great golden eyes slightly as she stared at the tiny beetle. ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘It is nice to meet someone with good manners. I’m Leucogaster. Your companions are very noisy.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Pepe. He was beginning to feel quite cross. ‘I’m Pepe, and I’ve been very polite.’ He glared at Aaaargh. ‘It’s this not-very-nice gull that’s been making all the noise.’

‘I have too,’ said Aaaargh. ‘And, as I said, it’s because there’s weather coming in, and you’re standing around telling me everything’s fine, and everyone’s fine, and they aren’t fine, and we’re not fine, and we have to catch the next stiff breeze if we’re going to be on our way, so why you decided here would be a good place to stop is beyond me, Pepe, because we need to get Ambrosia further north before she falls asleep. You know what happens if she falls asleep, right?’

‘What happens when you fall asleep,’ the sea eagle asked the tiny ladybird sitting on the end of her nose.

‘When I fall asleep in the winter time I go into hibernation,’ the ladybird replied. ‘And when I wake up the world is like new again, which is wonderful, but,’ and Ambrosia wiggle-flew back to Aargh and landed on his head. ‘I forget everyone I’ve ever met, and I just don’t want to do that. Not yet. I’m not ready to forget things.’

‘Sometimes it’s good to forget things,’ the eagle replied quietly. ‘I try to forget all the eggs that didn’t make it, and I try to forget all the people who keep trying to remove my nest from the top of that big aerial back there.’ She glanced back at the hill. ‘And I just try to get on with living my life without being harassed all the time by people who don’t know what they’re doing.’

‘I understand that,’ Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot said from Aaaargh’s silvered temple. ‘But I have children, little people, to get back to, and gardens to visit, and aphids to eat, and I just ate my last one. Winter is upon us, and I’m just not far enough north to stay awake yet. I can’t go to sleep. Not yet.’

‘Then why did you stop,’ the sea eagle asked.

‘Aaaargh can’t keep flying, no matter how good a pilot he thinks he is,’ Pepe replied, wincing as Aaaargh pecked him on the shoulder. ‘He needs to rest.’

‘Then I will make sure we get you to where you need to go,’ said the Sea Eagle. ‘I have family, other Sea Eagles, all the way up this coast so we will be able to get you to a warm place, Ambrosia. I promise.’ She would have smiled, but she had a beak not a mouth, so smiling was not possible.

‘Thank you,’ said Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, adventurer extraordinaire. ‘That is all I’ve ever asked for. When it does become springtime, I will try to make it all the way back to my favourite little person, and perhaps I will be able to bring children of my own.’

‘Oh good, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out,’ said Aargh. ‘Now, where’s the nearest pub? I feel like some hot chips.’

The eagle huffed and fluffed up her feathers. 

‘Typical seagull,’ she said, but it was not unkindly. She turned to look at Pepe once more, her golden eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of bird are you, exactly,’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you before.’

‘I don’t really know,’ Pepe replied. ‘I know my mum was a Silver Gull, but I don’t know who my dad was. I’m bigger than normal seagulls, but smaller than the Albatross and bigger than a Pacific Gull. I just can’t figure it out.’

‘Then you must be a very special bird indeed,’ said the eagle as she rose gracefully from the driftwood branch. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’

Pepe blinked. It was possibly the nicest thing any avian had ever said to him. 

Whether you wear black shorts or sunglasses, have Supernatural tendencies, or like to run around yelling out code words with your cousins while you’re playing a game of pool, whether you like dressing up in skintight red suits, have hands with long scissors, or think you might be Out of Time, there is always a Sea Eagle, and always a Ladybird, and always a few raucous seagulls. You can find these birds in the strangest locations sometimes, and often where they aren’t meant to be.

That is the magic of storytelling.

C.S. Capewell aka Kate Capewell.

P.S. When we got our very first home loan several years ago, we were helped by a wonderful group of individuals from a number of different teams and businesses who helped us realise our dream. I will never be able to thank them enough. I still owe someone some chocolate, and I have never forgotten.

Kate x

For the original story of Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, head over to the wonderful team at https://wildeyedpress.com.au

If you need insurance there is also a wonderful group you can get hold of, but they are pretty good at doing their own advertising. There are also a couple of wonderful banks, health insurers, and TV stations in WA and in the Eastern States you might want to watch if you ever come to Australia. There are decent people in the world, you just need to know what to look out for.

The Indian Ocean

I’m from W.A. That’s Western Australia, in Australia. We have the largest coastline on the Australian Continent.

I’ve never been to the topmost part of Western Australia. I’ve only been as far up the coast as Kalbarri, which, when one was born in the southernmost corner of Western Australia, a reasonable way. People I’ve worked with and are friends with have lived or are living in those higher regions of W.A, nonetheless, and the countryside is completely different to where I currently reside.

You don’t hear much about the Indian Ocean. People don’t often write stories about it, or name things after it, or even wonder where it’s there half the time, despite it being the third largest ocean in the world (according to Google). That’s okay. Despite that it still exists, as do all the islands and continents whose coastlines are met by its waters.

The countries surrounding the Indian Ocean speak many different languages besides English, and I don’t think I could name them all. But, when we were kids at school, all those years and years back, we were told the most spoken languages (other than English) at that time were French, German, and Italian. At my high school (and primary school) down on the south coast, I learnt French. Spanish, despite its popularity, was not an option here.

When one wanders up the Western Australian coastline on Google Maps, or Google Earth and looks at the names of towns, and islands, one may suggest perhaps Dutch should have been offered as a language as well. I don’t remember it being offered as a language at my school. Maybe it was at others.

You don’t hear much about the Indian Ocean or Western Australia in history either. There are far more exciting topics to discuss — like where Chris Columbus went, or who landed in New Plymouth, and how many different sizes of barleycorn there might be if one looked at them closely. I suppose it’s because, when all those really early explorers looked at our coastline they thought to themselves, ‘You know what, this place doesn’t look very friendly. I think we’ll head back home.’

Everyone is affected by the area they grew up in, and the regions they have resided in for most of their lives. So, I guess I’m just looking at a world map from my perspective, (and possibly the perspective of many West Australians) not other people’s, which is possibly why I wrote this short piece today.

Thanks for reading. Don’t get stranded on any reefs. We have a few.

Bunyip of the Blackwood – C.S Capewell

Preface.

On a granite rock at the edge of the Southern Ocean is a footprint. Here is where it rose from the depths and came onto the land, when that land was soft, new and still warm to the touch, and when the sun had just begun to rise for the first time. This is where she began.

She wandered further north, but not too far, for the land was new and forming and this was simply a part of a much larger destination, but as it grew warmer in the sun, and colder on the ground, she realised she had to go down below the surface, and wait.

She has been waiting for a very long time.

One morning, when the sun was rising and sending the first colour into the darkness of the morning sky, just as it was beginning to head into a cooler season, the mud on the edge of the swamp shifted. It did not shift too much, just enough to cause a shiver up someone’s spine if anyone were watching.

No one was.

Off in the distance, the whine of what might have once been mistaken for a very large mosquito came closer, and the mud on the edge of the dried-up swamp shivered again. The old paperbarks leaned over it protectively, and the sticks and branches of older dead trees further into the vast, desolate landscape created small ripple-like waves. Bird song stilled. The land became silent. All the creatures of the dried-up lake seemed to hold a breath, all … Except the sound of that distant buzzing, coming ever closer.

Ever so gradually, what seemed like a hole formed in the wetness of the earth under the tree. Wider, and wider again, but it did not completely open. It was not quite a fissure, not quite a shaft. In actual fact, it seemed to have no depth at all.

It blinked.

... If you are interested in what happens next, please be forewarned this story is only available through accessing the paid part of this website. It is not based on historical fact, or dreamtime stories. It is a complete work of fiction in which no character represents any person or thing. Any resemblance to any movie, book or previous publication is sheer chance, and not at all related. Please do not continue this story if you have any existing beliefs which may cause you distress, or unintentionally frighten your children. Please do not continue this story if you find any resemblance to factual events or people, as they are not, and you might need to take a pill. Please do not continue this story if you are under the age of fifteen, are prone to behaving inappropriately at the drop of a hat, are criminally inclined, and do not have the ability to translate English to another language without messing it up entirely. This story is not for you if you believe in monsters under the bed, strange creatures in your living room, or dreamlike ghosties wandering about in the dark.

C.S. Capewell