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Rated: E · Short Story · Spiritual · #1586231
The story of a four year old aboriginal on "Invasion Day". (fictional)
Advent in the Horizon
(Ratings disabled until I finish editting)

Spelling in Australian (same as UK)


         By Samuel O'Donnell
         Written for "Project Write World, Round 11.

Prompt: When the most important things in our life happens,
we quite often do not know, at the moment, what is going on. ~C.S Lewis




I stood behind Mama with one arm wrapped around her leg, as I watched the others, perplexed. 'It's okay, Koora,' she would say with her reassuring smile each time I flinched, ducking behind her. Mama would keep me safe. Timidly, I peered back out from around her leg.

The others were jumping up and down around furious spirit beast, waving their arms and legs around them in loose synchronicity. When they had first started, I had screamed at the top of my lungs, horror stuck. The blazing creature of red, yellow and orange that made my eyes sting and skin burn was so close to them. It must be hurting them! The beast that was once smaller than me, so recently, now it towered into the sky, roaring like frenzied spirits.

They were all waving their limbs about, Papa, my older brother and sister, and so many other members of our tribe. We were further away, so it couldn't hurt us - but it was hurting them! Were the fighting the spirit beast?

Mama laughed quietly as the others stopped, looking at me. "Don't worry, it isn't hurting them," she said, guessing the source of my anxiety. She held my quivering hands, calming me.

I gazed back into her eyes, disbelieving.

"They're dancing, it's called the Bungkul dance," she explained, as another of our tribe joined joined the 'dance'. I looked over to the other group, who were further away from the fiery spirits. The eldest was rubbing something onto his skin, turning his skin chalky white.

"What are they doing?" I asked quietly, my eyes still wide.

Mama followed my gaze. "The Elder is putting paint on them before they join the ceremony. It protects us from the spirits of the land," she explained.

I frowned, "why don't you have paint on! I don't have paint on!"

Her smile broadened, so that I could see her shiny white teeth in the twilight sun. "Are you brave enough to –"

Before she could finish her sentence I had leaped to me feet, running towards the Elder and the few others that still awaited protection from the spirits. Mama laughed again as I took off, following after me.

Only now, that I wasn't terrified that they were being burnt by the flaming spirits, did I notice that they were smiling. They were having fun! My previous fear had been replaced by anticipation and envy. My brother and sister were out there and I wasn't!

Mama forced me to wait my turn, much to my dismay. I waited eagerly for my turn to finally arrive as the sky turned into a fiery purple. I looked back to the others, who 'danced' around the unmoving beast. I noticed the little embers floating up from the fire into the sky before disappearing into the cool evening sky.

The Elder smiled at me crookedly as I bounced up to him, now that it was my turn.

"Stand still for me, Koora," he said, looking down to me with eyes that gleamed with authority. I obeyed, working on turning myself into a statue. I felt his course thumb rubbing against my cheeks, then my forehead.

"What is the paint made of?" I asked, curious.

"Grounded ocher, we also use clay," the Elder replied. I had no idea what that was, but I thought I'd have to find some for myself.

"Done."

I gleamed back at him, before running towards my dad who continued to dance next to the spirit beast. I came to a stop close to him, suddenly weary again. My skin begun to warm and prickle as I approached, and now I my mind was screaming "dangerous!" at me. I felt a doubtful frown cross my face. I saw my Papa swivel his head to look at me, with curious, yet encouraging eyes.

I worked to dispel my returning anxiety, convincing myself that the paint would protect me from the spirit. I looked at the others, watching what they were doing carefully before trying to mimic them.

After a while the Elder walked up to me and knelt down so that his eyes were level with mine.

"You're doing well," he said, proud.

I gleamed back at him again, thrilled.

He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, "Do you know the how birds' got their colour?"

"No," I replied, puzzled.

"Because you're doing so well today, I'll tell you," he whispered, as if letting me in on a secret. He rose back to his feet and led me out of the way, before coming to a stop next to a eucalyptus tree. I saw Mama smile at me as I sat down next to the tree. My brother looked envious. I liked that. The Elder sat as well, facing towards me. I stared into his fathomless brown eyes, brimming with anticipation.

"Well," he begun, his voice low, "back in the Dreamtime all the bird tribes were the same colour, and that was black." I hunched forward, bringing myself closer to him, as he paused.

"One day the Peaceful Dove caught his foot on a sharp prong of wood on a broken off tree branch. The Dove called out piteously for help, and all the other bird tribes heard his cry and came to the place where the Dove lay. The Dove was in great pain and his foot had swollen up.

"The other birds gathered and provided shelter for him with their wings. Some brought water for him to drink and some bathed his foot with water. All except Crow, who was in a bad mood and was angered by the attention the other birds were giving the little Dove.

"Crow harangued the other birds and told them that they were wasting their time, the Peaceful Dove was done for. And indeed the foot was festering and swelling, it was getting worse. But the other birds paid the Crow no heed, and finally they had had enough of him, they chased him away.

"But, then the Galah had an idea." he paused, adding to the suspense. My jaw gawked open as I waited, forgetting to breathe. "She rushed forward and bit the Dove's swollen foot with her sharp, hooked beak. The Dove cried out in pain and a myriad of colours, all the colours in nature flowed out of the Dove's foot and splashed all over every bird gathered 'round," the Elder's eye vivid and animated, his voice almost trilling.

"Some got only a little colour, and some only got one or two colours. Some were splashed with many colours - the Rainbow Lorikeet was splashed with a so much colour that he looked like the rainbow itself!

"The Galah was splashed with rosy pink and grey, and the little Peaceful Dove was almost drained of colour till he was a light mottled gray-brown.

"And so it was that all the bird tribes got their beautiful coloured plumage," his tone turned grave, "except for the selfish, bad-tempered Crow who remains in his original black to this day."

I gawked, amazed.

"Wow," I managed.

As he ruffled my hair with a grin, there was a desperate cry. Instinctively, I searched for the source of the sound. I realised that the others were doing the same. I couldn't see anything through the shadows of the eucalypts', the last of the sun was almost entirely out of sight now.

"Wait here," the Elder ordered, his tone fierce. He shot to his feet like a startled cat and ran for the edge of the bush just as a man appeared through them. A moment later Mama was by my side, holding me in her protective embrace. I watched the Elder in trepidation. He came to a stop in front of the other man. They started talking, though I couldn't make out what they were saying over the loud crackling of the fiery beast.

"What's happening, Mama?"

"It's nothing," she reassuringly, but even I could detect the fear in her own voice. The cool caress of the evening sky did nothing to quell my surging anxiety.

"What's wrong?" I pressed.

"Nothing is wrong," she lied.

Seconds later, the whole tribe had disappeared into the shadows, running through the place between the trees where the man had appeared. I wriggled myself free of Mama's grasp, darting after them. I couldn't stand not to know; and more importantly, I couldn't stand the rest of my family leaving me.

Something was wrong.

I bolted through the bush as fast my short legs would take me, ignoring the throbbing pain from my feet as loose rocks and foliage pierced the skin. I could hear Mama following behind me as I darted around the billabong. My heart raced like the wings of a hummingbird. My mind raced equally as fast, panic stricken. Why did they always hide things from me?

Finally I saw the silhouettes of the others up ahead. They were standing on the beach staring out into the ocean. I came to a stop behind them, panting heavily. Mama arrived moments later.

She gasped.

I followed their gazes, staring out into the ocean that shone red and purple in the evening light. Then I saw what they were looking at it. A bizarre mixture of trepidation, horror, intrigue and curiosity engulfed my mind as I saw the impossible. Out in the ocean floated eleven enormous beasts. They were unlike anything I had ever seen or imagined. Their skins were made from wood, and atop stood gigantic horns – only they didn't look like horns. The not-horns had equally huge sheets of white attached to it, blowing in the wind.

Then I noticed something else. Something that defied truth and plausibility.

On top of the great beast of the sea, were people. But they didn't look like us. Their skin was too light.

Had the spirits come to retake the land?




Word Count: 1,648
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