Gary Taaffe's Blog, page 9

Series Glossary

Aussie Spelling and Colloquialisms.
Australians love playing with words; twisting and rhyming in a never–ending search for something funny. As a result, we use a vast array of slang terms, with long words and names seen as pretentious. We usually shorten them in a humorous way if we can. Although, in the case of “budgie smugglers,” humour becomes paramount and preferable to the term “Speedos.” It originated from a time in Australia when people were hiding live birds in their clothing and smuggling them out of the country. People began asking Speedo wearing guys at the beach if that was a budgie they were trying to smuggle down there, the joke being that budgies are quite small. Hence, Speedos became budgie smugglers and everyone had a laugh. 
Another classic Aussie saying is the term “G’day, mate.” “Good day to you, sir” or “Good day,” is far too formal for us. “G’day, mate,” simplifies everything and makes everyone instant friends, or mates. It also levels the playing field by bringing tall poppies down to everyone else’s level — we’re all just mates. Plus it’s an easy solution when you can’t remember someone’s name.
We use British English(BE) for spelling here, where as American English(AE) is used in the United States. Some of the main differences are with words like “surprise”(BE) and “surprize”(AE); “colour”(BE) and “color”(AE). Basically, we use an “s” instead a “z” and we keep the “u”. It’s surprising how many words this causes a world of confusion to. However, the English language has always been a mix of languages that continues to evolve to this very day.
Two general rules in story writing are don’t use colloquialisms, and change your spelling to suit the country in which it is sold. Today’s readers are much more sophisticated than they used to be. They’ve heard all the stories before and often know what’s going to happen. And technology is never far away. Any unknown word or phrase is easily looked up on Google, or can be checked using the pre–installed dictionaries in eReaders. 
To me, leaving out colloquialisms and standardising spelling creates boring stories. They lack colour, vigour and flavour. Can you imagine that happening to Urban Hunters? “Good day to you, sir,” just doesn’t have the same ring to it as “G’day, mate.” 
I'll be adding to this glossary as the series progresses so drop back for updates. 
Arse is your butt, or your bottom. The thing you sit on and fart out of, incase you weren’t getting the picture. And don’t ask me what a fart is because I know you know — I can smell you from here. ;)
Billabong is created when a river changes course leaving an isolated body of water. It’s also the overflow area of a river that fills seasonally. 
It originated from two Aboriginal words: “Billa,” meaning a river or creek, and “Bong,” meaning to die.
Boomerang is an Aboriginal throwing stick shaped in a wide V. The bottom surface is flat with the top curved like the wing of a bird to give it lift. Throwing skill will make it turn left or right or even up if necessary. Not all boomerangs are made to return. Some are used like a flying club. They’re also clapped together creating a rhythmic accompaniment to song and dance.
Bullroarer is a sacred instrument of communication and music. It’s a flat, oval shaped piece of pinewood from a lightning struck tree. About two metres of cord are tied to a small hole in one end allowing it to be swung overhead. As it spins through the air it creates a unique reverberating roar that can be heard from a great distance. 
It’s used when entering another tribe’s territory to let them know they have company, to call people together for a ceremony, or a way for a man to tell a woman that he likes her. 
Ceremony is about initiation. About turning boys and girls into men and women. It is used to teach and to celebrate. And most importantly, it is about unity. 
Clapsticks are two short lengths of hardwood that are clapped together creating a rhythmic accompaniment to song and dance.
Corroboree is basically a party. Aborigines gather from near and far to perform ceremonies, or to just sing and dance for the fun of it.
Coulda is short for “Could have …”
Didgeridoo or Didge is a long cylindrical wind instrument made of wood. Trees and their branches are tapped with tools to see if termites have hollowed them out. Suitable ones of a bit over a metre or more in length are cut into didgeridoos. They emit a unique, low–pitched, resonant sound. Generally, the longer the didge, the lower the pitch.
Dingo is a wild dog, not to be mistaken with escaped domestic dogs. They have a taxon all their own — Canis lupus dingo. It’s estimated that they’ve been in Australia for around 4,000 years and have developed features and instincts that distinguish them from all other dogs. I think the best guess on how they got to Australia in the first place was as domestic dogs on fishing boats from South East Asia. They may have been traded for goods from the Aborigines. Street dogs from Asia look uncannily like a dingo.
Dreamtime or the Dreaming was a time of creation, in Aboriginal beliefs. Before the Dreamtime there was nothing, no rivers, no mountains, no kangaroos and no rain. A featureless, desolate land devoid of everything. Then came the Dreamtime which created everything. Giant mythical Beings and creatures rising from their slumber within the earth to live normal, human or animal lives. These giants, foraging for food and digging in the ground, created all the deep gorges and mountain ranges we see today. It was during this time that the traditional way of life was established and, as ancestors of these mythical Beings, ancient Aboriginal people were taught their traditions. Then the Dreamtime ended, allowing life as we know it to begin. 
With no written language; verbal stories, songs, customs and art pass on this knowledge for future generations to live by. It has been this way in Australia for, at the very least, an astounding 60,000 years. 
This Aboriginal religion, or spirituality, is as true and real to the Aboriginal people as it is true and real to many other people’s religions — that a mythical being created everything.
Dunno is short for “I don’t know.”
Goanna is another word for a monitor. See Lace monitor.
Gonna is short for “Going to …”
Gotta is short for “Have got to …” or “Have got a …”
Hanky is short for handkerchief.
Hobo is basically a homeless, street person to us. A beggar, a drunk, a bum. In other countries there is a difference between a hobo and a bum, or a beggar, but here in Australia we lump them all together. Although even this word is heard far less these days with the politically correct term of a “Street person,” being preferred.
Kid is a child, or a baby goat.
Loincloth is a simple garment providing cover for a person’s genitalia.Before the whiteman’s conventions arrived in Australia, Aborigines spent their lives wearing nothing at all.
Me is a badly pronounced “My.”
Metre is a unit of measure, where as a meter is something that measures.
Mongrel is traditionally a mixed breed of dog but is commonly used to describe a person of low morals, like a bastard.
Mum is how we spell mom.
Never–Never depicts the neverending vastness of the Australian outback.
Pinching is to steal or to pinch someone’s skin causing pain.
Platypus is an extremely unusual semiaquatic mammal. It lays eggs yet it suckles its young. They have a bill like a duck, a beaver–like tail and the males have a poisonous spur. They turned science on its head when they were first discovered. All told, they’re a very cute and much loved Aussie creature.
Puke is to throw up.
Pyjama or pajama are your bed clothes, or your PJs.
Quolls are cute carnivorous marsupials with spotted fur.
Sandshoes are what some call sneakers or joggers.
Shoulda is short for “Should have.”
Sling see stone thrower.
Speedos are a tight fitting bathing suit for men. See the beginning of this glossary for information on Budgie Smugglers.
Stone thrower or a sling is two pieces of cord joined in the middle by a flat pouch that folds to hold a stone. The ends of the cord are held with the pouch containing the stone left dangling. After swinging the pouch underarm or overarm, one end of the cord is released at just the right time, allowing the stone to be released with great velocity. It was used in ancient times to great affect as a weapon, and for hunting. Today it is used for fun and competition.
The Rainbow Serpent was the first child of the great creator, in Aboriginal beliefs, and is the guardian of the land. The rainbow in the sky is The Rainbow Serpent travelling from one waterhole to the next, filling it with fertility and creating regeneration for man and nature.
Totem or totemism varies greatly across Aboriginal Australia. However on the whole it’s a spiritual connection to the land through things like animals, insects, birds, fish and reptiles. The concept goes all the way back to the Dreamtime. It helps balance nature and provides guidance through people’s lives.
Totems are assigned at various times for various reasons. The area you live in has a totem as does your tribe and your clan. The kookaburra totem may be assigned to a baby because they sang nearby at the time of birth. Or a bee was buzzing around, telling all that the baby is of the bee totem. If the bee is your totem, then it’s as if you are actually a bee. If you kill a bee it would be like killing your brother or sister. You are charged with looking after the bees, and you know that they will look after you by warning you of danger, for example. If you are a bee you cannot marry a bee, for that would be incest. In this way, interbreeding is controlled. Some say you cannot, and some say you should not, eat a kangaroo if your totem is the kangaroo. In this way, the ecosystem is nurtured.
Westerners say I’m a Taurus and the Asians say I’m a Dragon. Well I don’t eat dragons but I sure as heck cannibalise those bulls every chance I get. Yummo!
Tucker is any kind of food with “Good tucker, mate,” being a well used term.
Ute or pickup truck as it’s also known, is one of Australia’s most successful inventions. The wife of a farmer wrote to Ford Australia in 1932 asking for, “a vehicle to go to church in on a Sunday and which can carry our pigs to market on Mondays”. Ford released the Coupe Utility in 1934. However, 4 years earlier, Australian, James Freeland Leacock built his own and patented the design in 1930. I have been unable to find out if Ford used his patent, if he received any royalties, if Ford got around his patent or if they abused his patent …
Walkabout is a rite of passage and an opportunity for an Aboriginal adolescent to grow into a man. He wanders the bush for a period of time, often six months, travelling along song lines (spiritual paths made by his ancestors) to break the bonds between parent and child and connect with his spirituality. A period of reflection. A time to learn about oneself and the cultures of others. A boy returns a man, full of pride where he earns the respect of his community. It is a good tradition.
Wanna is short for “Do you want a …,” or “Do you want to …”
Willy Wagtails  are small black and white birds that love to sing and wag their tails.
Woomera is a stick with a hook on the end that locates into the back of a spear. It essentially lengthens your arm allowing you to throw a spear with a lot more force.
Woulda is short for “Would have.”
Yabby is a freshwater crayfish with a taste comparable to a lobster or a prawn/shrimp.
Yez is short for “You guys.”

Pre-release teaser for book 8, due out end January, 2014

“A torrent of warm blood flowed over her cold fist, soaking her soul in the gentle embrace of a warm bath.” 

PAINTED RAIN by Gemma Pol

Congratulations, Gemma for your wonderful award winning short story. 
Gemma is a year 10 student at my local Great Lakes College, Tuncurry, NSW, Australia. Her story has just won the prestigious Patrick White Indigenous Writers Award.





 Painted Rainby Gemma Pol
I hesitantly opened my eyes, adjusting them to my bland surroundingI finally forced myself to crawl out of bed when my phone would not stop its excessive buzzing. When I answered, the lifeless voice of the DVD shop owner mumbled about the tragic romance movie I had borrowed two months earlier and had failed to return. I agreed to take the DVD back that day, realising this would be the first time leaving the apartment in almost two weeks. I made a double shot espresso to go and headed out of my lonely door.
I walked down my favourite lane, even though it meant taking a longer route to the shop. The lane was always soundless and empty, like me. I think that’s why I liked it so much. My isolated footsteps echoed down the lane and sent shudders up my legs. I tried to remember the last time I didn’t feel so sorrowful and alone. Not since my mother passed away. I imagined her playing piano. When I was a cheerful child, she would play for hours. I imagined her beautiful melody, so sweet and enriched with warmth.   The music was getting louder, and then I realised I wasn’t imagining at all. I followed the angelic tune to the abandoned creative arts hall. It shocked me that a structure so gloomy and colourless could be the home of something so vibrant and magical. I peered through the slight crack in the door to see an elderly man at the piano. He had hair as grey as rolling storm clouds and ancient-looking skin. I delicately widened the door and it made the slightest creak. The man looked up to face me, but his eyes were still wondering, searching even. He was blind.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
I considered not answering, just closing the door behind me and walking away. But something about the whole situation made me feel as if this was no accident, maybe even fate or something. 
“Sorry, Um… My name is Ava, and I just heard you playing and well…”
He faintly laughed to himself. “I’m Noah, why don’t you take a seat dear?”
I smiled, for the first time in what seems an eternity. A chord captivated the emptiness in the room, in me. Noah’s fingers glided along the piano, like butterflies slicing through thick air. I couldn’t believe that someone with such an unfortunate disability could create music so encouraging and joyous. The song faded and the room was silent again. 
“Do you play Ava?” Noah croaked.
“No, I don’t. My mother used to. I used to sing to her music, but it just doesn’t seem right without her,” I explained, completely satisfied with my reason.
“I know how you feel Ava. It was something that only you and your mother shared, something too precious and too private for anyone else to hear. But you see Ava, you have this beautiful gift, a gift given to you to share. And your mother is watching you, just wishing for the day you sing again. Today can be that day.”
Noah raised his hands to the piano once again. He let his fingers roll along the keys and his emotions pour into the music. He made it look effortless. My mother was a truly amazing pianist, but Noah, he was different. He played to vanquish his impairment, to show it doesn’t control him. He was so grateful of every day, every moment and every song. He saw the beauty in the world, even though he could not see.
Something changed in me that day. Right then and there, an influx of relief empowered me. I began to sing, before I even realised I was. The lyrics, my voice; everything came rushing back like storm water racing down a dry river bed. When the song stopped, so did I, but I knew the river would never be dry again.
Noah had an unbelievable impact on my life. He made me remember all the beautiful things in life I had forgotten. The grass was greener, the sky was bluer and music was richer. Rain no longer stained the concrete… It painted it.

Paperight.com

Paperight.com is clever. They’re turning copy shops into books shops. Effectively, anyone with a photocopier in a tiny village in some poor country with a simple agreement with Paperight, can print out my pdf books and sell them retail for a fraction of the price of a normal print book. I still get a good royalty and my books get read by people who wouldn’t normally have access to them. Poor, remote area students in third world countries now have access to school books at a fraction of the price. Gotta like that.

Chapter 25 THE TAKE-AWAY SHOP

“You hungry, fellas?”
They barked an eager reply.
“Mmm, me too. OK. Hunt!”
They immediately started barking like mad, telling each other they were going hunting and confirming with each other that they were going hunting. They pumped up their muscles and bounced off each other’s shoulders — preparing each other for a fight. Then the sniffing started with their noses to the ground, all the scents investigated and discussed.
“Come on, fellas.”
He left his bag and spear by the fire and led the pups around behind the amenities block to scale a grassy hill that led to the back of the old man’s head. A dense cluster of trees sat atop the knoll providing the old man with excellent protection from the sun. Billy was tempted to hunt within their shadows until he became even more intrigued by a brightly lit pet shop across the road. Four fat little puppies bounded about inside the shop front window. It was only a couple of hundred metres away so he ran down the grassy hill and passed a man in a suit sitting on a park bench eating worms with a pair of sticks. Billy thought it was clever the way he used the sticks but he wasn’t impressed at all that he was eating worms. He couldn’t ever imagine being that hungry.
He continued to the traffic lights and admired all the cars whizzing by while he waited. And waited and waited and waited. But nothing was happening. The man joined him and threw away his half eaten dinner in the bin beside the light pole. Billy wasn’t surprised, it looked disgusting. Then the guy caught Billy’s eye and pressed the button. Billy had forgotten about the button. He’d seen people pressing it before but he didn’t know why. Billy pressed it too, and copped a disdainful look from the man. He didn’t understand that either, but then the traffic suddenly stopped.
He followed the man across the road and continued straight for the shop. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, there were fish and birds and the puppies playing in the window right in front of him. It was then that he really appreciated how clever the whitefellas were. He’d drooled over the smell of hamburgers that he’d seen people eating as they left take–away shops and couldn’t wait for this one to open.
He wandered past a few more shops: art supplies, a mini–mart and a shoe shop. Everyone was wearing shoes in the city but Burnam said he didn’t like the shoes that he had to wear when he was working as a butler on the cattle station. He wondered if they’d made him wear the high heeled ones — there was a bright, red, strappy pair that didn’t look very comfortable at all.
The next shop was set back from the street with an awning out the front. Under it were piles and piles of plastic bags with a logo that Billy recognised — it was a St Vincent de Paul shop. He watched a really dirty looking man fall over twice as he struggled to take off his t–shirt and replace it with a clean one. Billy wanted to help him but he thought it best to leave him alone as he was shouting aggressively in frustration.
The pups took off up the street and disappeared into a dark alley. Billy raced after them and just as he was about to enter, Moe came skidding to a stop right in front of him with a big rat in his mouth.
“Wow, Moe! You got a beauty there, mate. That’s the fattest rat I ever seen!”
Moe gave the rat one last shake, dropped it at Billy’s feet and spent a frantic moment lavishing in Billy’s praise. Then he bolted back for another one just as Larry and Curly came tearing out of the shadows sharing a monster between them. They also dropped it at Billy’s feet but they didn’t wait for praise, they bolted straight back in case Moe needed backup.
Billy was over the moon — he thought he’d have trouble finding game as he hadn’t seen a single roo since hitting the bitumen, but the pups seemed to know where all the action was.
“That’ll do,” he told them after counting the pile at his feet. He picked out the biggest one for himself and left one for each of the pups to carry back themselves. They trotted around on the way back to the camp site looking for people to show them off to and then plonked them down beside the fire for Billy to cook.
Moe couldn’t wait, he ripped the guts straight out of his which tested Larry and Curly’s patience. They kept looking from Moe’s rat to their rats to Billy and then to the fire. Billy didn’t muck about with tensions riding so high, he gave their rats a quick singe in the flames and gave them straight back, much to their relief. Then Moe decided he wanted his singed too so he dropped his half–eaten, drool soaked carcass by the fire and gave Billy a hopeful look. Billy laughed, bunged it in the flames and gave him a pat while he waited for his own to cook through.
Just as Billy was getting started on his rat, lightning exploded from a storm cloud heading his way. He didn’t care, he’d already sussed out the picnic table roof and knew it would keep him dry until the storm passed. The pups were a different story, they now associated lightning with hunting so they took off in search of sweets.



**********

Buy the Urban Hunters series now from the following retailers: Amazon: USA, UK, Italy, France, Spain, Denmark, Japan, Brazil, Canada, Mexico, AustraliaKobo, Smashwords, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, Wheelers, Createspace, Waterstones, The Book Depository, FishpondNew releases announced here first:Facebook Author Page GaryTaaffeTwitter                       @Urban_HuntersBlog                          Urban HuntersBookstore                  Bunya PublishingEmail                         gmt369@gmail.comContemporary, Young Adult (10+), Australia, Action, Adventure, Humorous, Family, Survival

Interesting Review of Urban Hunters series

Pinky's Favorite Reads writes an interesting review of my Urban Hunters series. Check it out here for a different perspective.

See book 1 on Amazon

New Release BOWELS OF HELL book 7

Entombed and doomed to digestion down the bowels of hell itself, Billy and Amber must escape or die. 
The orphans, abandoned again, must set aside their differences and put into practice what Billy has taught them. Or starve. 
And is the honeymoon over already? Can the Bullies save their relationship with Mel?“WOW! Hauntingly hypnotic. Good enough to set to music. A wickedly graphic conclusion. Loved it.” Anne, Australia“It’s really clever. Very exciting. I love the way you’ve ended it.” Jack, Australia“One minute his chilling descriptions are giving me the shivers and the next, I’m laughing out loud!” Ethan, USA“By far the best in the series, cliffhanger at end is driving me crazy” Andrew, UKURBAN HUNTERS is laugh–out–loud, gut–churning, heart–wrenching storytelling at its best. Unlike anything you’ve ever read, in typical Taaffe fashion. Hilarious as usual. Always surprising. Wonderful!Find your favourite book store at Bunya Publishing.

First Look at book 7 BOWELS OF HELL

Big day today- all the editing is in so I'm doing final re-writes, copy editing, formatting and hopefully, all going well, I'll be uploading book 7 to Amazon this afternoon- available tomorrow. The image shows how I have to write it in HTML code to do a professional job of converting it to mobi, epub and pdf. So if you can read it, you're one of the first to see it, after my Facebook post.

Chapter 24 SYDNEY

[image error] Billy let Larry set the pace at a steady trot. A few kilometres later the cool dirt of the National Park’s road turned into foot blistering bitumen. Billy and the pups hopped from one foot to the next as they stood amongst a group of pedestrians waiting for the traffic lights to change. Billy didn’t understand what they were waiting for but he figured the pups did as they were standing in front of him, preventing him from going any farther.

The pedestrians gave them a wide berth, not because of the spear carrying kangaroo, but because Larry kept growling savagely every time a car went past.

Billy didn’t notice much more than everyone’s shoes. The pedestrians were just standing still while his thickly soled feet slipped on the melting tar. He remembered seeing a lone storm cloud swirling around the otherwise clear blue sky so he looked around for it, hopeful of a drenching. He saw it in the distance, dumping a heavy load on someone else.

Suddenly all the cars stopped to let everyone cross the road. Billy was really impressed — he thought they were all going to have to make a run for it or something.

Billy followed his nose south, adjusting his route each time the brown snake loomed large above Sydney’s crowded skyline. The trickle of cars quickly turned into a steady stream of heavy traffic that wore Larry down. He was all growled out so he remained quietly enraged instead and settled into a cranky trot.

Billy stopped for a late afternoon rest high on a hill in someone’s front yard overlooking Sydney Harbour. He found the lone rain cloud still swirling above the city buildings as he sat watching a couple of tugboats tow a massive cruise liner into port. He could have sat there on the cool wet grass all day if it wasn’t for the itchy wet patch it caused on his pants. He decided then and there that he hated wearing pants, despite all the cool pockets.

He noticed rosellas drinking from a bird bath so he got up for a drink too.

“You don’t have to drink from the bird water, dear,” a little old lady called through the tomato vines in her front garden. She was struggling to lift a bucketful of tomatoes. “You’re quite welcome to drink from the tap here if you’d like.”

Billy rushed straight over to help her.

“That looks heavy, ma’am.” He was so excited to be helping an old lady. Burnam had taught him all about manners and helping ladies was high on his list.

“Thank you, dear. That’s very kind of you.”

She patted a gloved hand on the bench beside a garden sink and smiled sweetly, as only a nice old lady can. Billy felt himself go a little soft for her as he fumbled to lift the bucket.

“My grandfather say it’s not proper to let a lady carry heavy things.”

She put the plug in the sink and turned on the tap to fill it.

“Well your grandfather sounds like a very nice man to me.” She noticed him staring goggle eyed at the tomatoes. “Would you like one, dear?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes thank you, ma’am.”

She picked out a nice one and handed it to him.

He smelt it and excitedly bit into its soft flesh. Juice squirted everywhere, through his fingers and down his chin.

It made the lady smile delightedly.

“Tomato!” Billy said shyly. He fingered out some seeds and smeared them into the fur of his bag to dry.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said, impressed with what he’d done with the seeds.

“We got ‘em in the bush but they only small,” he said while holding his hand under the running water. “You got big ones!” He turned the tap to see how it worked, marvelling at how it changed the flow.

Billy’s curiosity fascinated the old lady, not to mention what she thought of the hat on his head.

Suddenly a ruckus broke out from the bird bath. The pups had managed to jump up into it, but it was too small for all three so Curly pushed Moe out. He tumbled over the edge and landed with a thud on the concrete below. He yelped in pain and growled angrily at Curly.

“I better go, ma’am, it’s getting late. Will you be OK with those tomatoes?”

“Yes, dear, I’ll be fine. I probably should put less in the bucket though. I’m not as young as I used to be. Rose is my name by the way, dear. But you can call me Rosy if you like.”

“OK, Rosy. Billy’s my name, from the Red kangaroo totem, but you can call me Deer if you like.”

Moe was trying to jump back up into the bird bath but now that he was wet, he couldn’t quite make it. Billy lifted Curly out and decided to carry him for safety’s sake.

“Thanks for the tomato, Rosy ma’am. See ya,” Billy picked up his spear and headed off.

“Anytime, Deer. Come again, won’t you?” she waved.

“OK. I will. See ya,” Billy called over his shoulder.

At the bottom of the hill, Billy stared in wonder at the Harbour Bridge towering above him. Being nervous about crossing under the last bridge was nothing to how he felt about this one. He again waited to see what the pedestrians would do — more Japanese tourists with big hats and flashing cameras. He was glad he was wearing pants this time, but then he wondered if it was his, “Nice arse” that had excited them last time. Probably, he figured.

Halfway across the bridge, Billy suddenly stopped as an image from his dreams came into view — the massive midden of seashells. It was the Opera House. He marvelled at it for a while and then he remembered the park. His mum had beamed sunlight on a dense cluster of dark green trees beyond the Opera House. He couldn’t see it from his current position so he carried on. Then to his delight, the trees below all the city buildings came into view.

“Woo hoo,” he yelled in high spirits. “Come on fellas.” He put Curly down and took off at a sprint with the pups quickly catching up and running ahead.

He followed all the tourists down a wide flight of sandstone stairs which brought him out onto the streets below. There were wide streets with lots of cars and narrow cobblestoned streets with just pedestrians. They headed in the general direction that he wanted to go so he took that route, between tall buildings, past cafes, pubs and lots of people of every shape, size and colour.

The pups stayed close, feeling claustrophobic too.

Turning a corner the skyline opened up presenting him with the harbour ferries and lots, lots more people. He again headed in the general direction of the park. Under the massive awnings that led to the boarding gates of the ferries, through the throng of people lining up to board and then to an open area leading to the opera house and finally, the entrance to the park. Once through that, he turned back to get another look at where he had just come from — he never wanted to get jostled around by so many people ever again.

The cluster of trees were only a few hundred metres away so he sprinted towards them, excited beyond his wildest imagination.

The path he was on ran along the waterfront, past a small sandy beach and then around a corner where it opened up into a large, natural amphitheatre area. The backdrop, grand old trees sitting atop a twenty–metre sandstone rock wall, exactly as he had seen it in his dreams. And nestled into its base was a beautifully kept picnic area on a grassy oval bordered by flowering frangipani trees, his mum’s favourites.

“This is it! We found it!” The pups barked excitedly, following Billy as he explored the area. Two small concrete fireplace surrounds were evenly spaced below the rock wall. Each accompanied by a wooden picnic table, bench seats and a sturdy roof. Close by was an amenities block with a large basket of firewood so he gathered an armful and got a fire going just as the sun went down. He stood back to watch the flames light up the trees way above him. Then he saw something that he’d forgotten all about — the fire cast shadows in the rock wall, revealing a craggy old man’s face.

“Whew,” he bellowed excitedly. He yipped and yelped and danced around the fire. “Mother spirit, I am here! You guide me to this place. This place where the old man dreams. Where the brown snake watch over the whitefellas.” Eucalyptus leaves flared up in the fire. “Whew,” he yelled in delight. He clapped his boomerangs together and sang a clan song honouring his ancestors. He was wild with excitement, his triumph electrifying him. His only witnesses were the dogs, a scattering of fishermen along the waterfront wall a hundred metres away and the occasional couple strolling along the path, lost in a world of their own.

Breathless after his dance, he rummaged through his bag to make some paint when he noticed the pups not sharing in his excitement. He knew that look …



******************************************************


Please "Like" my Facebook page and "Share" these chapters with your friends to help me spread the word. Gary Taaffe (author page) https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Gary-Taaffe/212091488802148?fref=ts

All my books are available here:www.BunyaPublishing.com

Cobar and Burnam

Do you remember the howls of laughter when Mallee and Pindaari arrived back at camp after Billy challenged them to retrieve a crystal from the crystal cave? That was the Tea Cosy chapter in Four Small Stones. How much do these two fellas remind you of Cobar and Burnam cracking up laughing about what Billy did to them? I had such fun writing that scene. Did you like it? 

Comment on my Facebook page if you like-

http://on.fb.me/q0kQge

Read it here again if you like. http://bit.ly/12WZY0E