“Daintree Daughters” - First Paragraphs

BACHELOR
Insects rose lazily as the brown feathers drifted seemingly effortlessly through the cool brown water. Tawny eyes watched slyly through slitted lids. The golden sun danced on the silver sheen of the brown water; the promise of relief untrustworthy to the wary; the lure of luxury over the threat of danger. Unexpectantly the olive coloured jaws opened wide in a yawn showing rows of vicious teeth stirring up the muddy water. Then with a snap the teeth disappeared and the olive skin blended into the surface once more.

FAMILY
The silence was deafening as the wind rushed under and over the tawny feathers. The emptiness was filling with colour; the sweet moisture of air reflecting the light from the sun, creating a hue so blue it was blinding. But the black eyes were focussed in the dark depths below. There! Wings folded, the wind whistling, those black eyes remained on target. At the last, the huge span avoided death; the deadly talons scored, the quarry was secured. Enjoying the power of victory surging, she returned to the sky, warm now from the sun, and took her prise home to her babies.

MARY
In the dappled shade under a lone gum tree, the dog jerked up to scratch at the flea that attacked its ear and disturbed its rest. The tree was alone on the side of the dirt track, left because of its twisted trunk and branches useless for building and quixotically making such a strange heart shaped marker. Birds nested in the twisted branches, feeding their young on the multitude of grubs and bugs that also called the tree home. On the highest bough, some twenty feet tall, a tawny frog mouthed owl regularly roosted, and in the hollow of a dead and broken off branch a possum had stubbornly set up permanent residency.

It was said a miner had proposed to his sweetheart as she sat in the fork of this tree. Tragically she had died on the way to the church to marry him. In honour of her memory and their love he’d buried in the core of the fork, the ring he’d made from his only nugget. There was a definite scar in the tree at this place where the tree had grown over the everlasting token maintaining a seat in the centre of the split trunk. Other minors began a tradition in bringing their girls here to proclaim their love and commitment. Indeed women had been known to drag their men there and demand to be proposed to. Nonetheless it was the sweetheart tree and scores of initials were carved into its bark.

MANDY
Nostrils flared, eyes wide; showing the whites around glowing chocolate targets. Sweat was gathering around the strong muscles; darkening the pelt to the same brunette. His black hair flew in streams, straight out of his skin in the wind he generated from his own exertion. There was only one thing better than his present dash for freedom, and that would be to do so without the encumbrance of the leather and wood strapped to his body. Straining, heart pounding, lungs heaving, muscles bunching he went on and on into the increasing light.

MOLLY
The eyes glowed like two miniature suns suddenly bright in the darkness. Below her, toms circled in the shadows of the alley. A low dangerous growl preceded the screech that suddenly rang out amongst the vicious hissing. Seemingly indifferent to it all, she sat on top of the wall cleaning behind her black ears, furiously. There would be rain on the morrow; stormy, cold, wet, bleak weather would be coming; a cat cleaning behind her ears never lied. Somewhere in the gum trees by the river a kookaburra laughed in agreement.

THE BLOODING
His snout was barely visible; the soft crown of his head and small brown bead like eyes easily missed as he took a breath and surveyed the atmosphere. A ripple on the billabong’s surface blown by the evening breeze alerted the inhabitants of the water to the coming twilight of the day. The ducks at the bank darted about after the bugs and small fish gathered there. He watched them, his body flat beneath the surface barely creating a ripple. The sky’s light was fading, the air growing chillier. Soon the ducks would be gone to roost in their reed nests. Then he could have his fill of the grubs in the muddy bank, stirred up by the ducks. He’d be full and back in his underground burrow before the darkness descended.

The parting of the long grass went unnoticed in the breeze. Red eyes searched for the movement sensed. The whip of pink forked from between black scales. There. Patience. A moment more and the bounty would be plentiful.

JOURNEY HOME
There it was, faint on the almost still breeze; a whiff of intensity, a sprayed droplet in the overall freshness of eucalypt. How clear was the air, how fresh the atmosphere? Those strange half dead looking giant trees, their bark patchy with shades of grey, brown and white, their silver grey green leaves drooping in long clusters yet seeming to clump and shimmer in the slight breeze. The boulders scattered through the trees stood like discarded pebbles from a giant’s hoe; red, yellow and grey. How strange such washed out colours when viewed from a distance would appear blue, as dark as an ocean as cool and inviting as a loch. Brown rivers, white trees with grey leaves, red soil and yellow grass; there is no reality beyond what is seen… except in the ginormous, impossibly blue, blue sky.
That warble of magpies, the screech of cockatoos, that distant laugh of a kookaburra, the ever-incessant singing of cicadas. The blinding brightness of such a bleached out landscape in that sparkling, crystal clear air.
This freshness, this peace, this amazing embracing place; this Australia.

EVER AFTER
Crystals of rainbow hues spray out as the white water lands on the craggy black rocks. Squawking indignantly, a gull soars overhead looking for a stranded fish to snatch up. The water seeps up the gold sand seeking its limit and then slides back into the next wave. Faint cries of laughter and happy calls come from the children sitting in the sand just out of the water’s reach, making castles and other sculptures to do any artist proud. Daring men join the fish and the other marine life in the breakers while the women sit in the shade of the tea tree watching.

Peace tranquility, they watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves, some with white caps others just deep steel grey blue. Here, as the tide continued on its ever lasting search for levelness, the people could relax and know for a while they had found theirs.

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