Dream Time

The cyclone shelter was a mess. Over by the far wall I could just make out a folding camp-bed, the rest of the space being taken up with junk and gardening paraphernalia. The possums, little blighters as Miss green called them, had left me with no alternative. Stretching over a rusted bicycle I grabbed the possum trap. Only the size of a cat basket, it felt surprisingly heavy. Moisture dripped from my face and I had to rest, like someone middle aged. The airless atmosphere was stifling, and my throat was dry. A spider clung to one of the bars of the possum cage. A closer inspection confirmed my dread. It was a poisonous variety, a Redback spider. I directed a shot of anger towards Uncle Sid, living comfortably in Brisbane. Aunt May was probably just about to light the barbecue for lunch. Kim was most likely on her way home from surfing, her blond hair swinging in the sunshine. She didn't have to worry about jellyfish that could kill with one sting, or the gnashing jaws of crocodiles. I knew I had to get the storm shelter ready. Biffs' paper had a useful article in it, explaining how to get a box together with some tins of food and water bottles. But I was unable to move, as if stuck to the upturned crate. Inside this cage my only company was the chirping song of cicadas. It was impossible to see beyond the garden walls, and I began to feel shut in. The insect volume increased, urging a deeper, primal panic. Familiar feelings of weakness crawled over me, providing their own grimy comfort. If Belle had been with me I was sure she would reassure me the way she had done in the past. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up her face. But I saw the door to the old cellar; the entrance to my prison. An icy chill ran through my heated veins. Quickly I opened my eyes. A glance out through the shelter door confirmed I was not shut in, that I was indeed safe. However, it was becoming clear that unwanted memories could turn this place into a prison of a different kind. Tears tried to fight their way free, but my eyes just stung with sweat. I had no choice but to stay here, there was simply nowhere else to go. Grabbing the possum trap I slammed shut the shelter door. I realised my throat was parched. The front door was nearby but I decided to use the back door near the pond. The climb up the steps was rewarded by the shade of tall palm trees. I placed the trap by the back door, remembering then to feed the fish. Their food tin was on the kitchen sill, and as I reached for it the sun hid momentarily behind a dark cloud. The flakes fell in silence on to the water while a dull thud came from behind, like a falling mango. It was so loud it caught my breath. Then I was alerted to a different noise, one like a soft cry coming from the undergrowth. Beyond the pond the trees parted to reveal the dingy remains of the old Aboriginals' house. I approached warily, curious to find out what was making the noise somewhere amongst the rubble. Kneeling on the coarse grass I scanned the piles of rough bricks. Stinging ants climbed in to my sandals and up to my bare shins, oblivious to where they were going. Flicking them on to the grass, I shifted position onto my haunches. The heat was compelling me to go into the shade of the house, and my mouth was like parchment, but I continued to look. Perspiration drenched my clothes, sticking the fabric to my skin. I began to feel nervous. I had been asked not to intrude here by Miss Green, after all. Why had she said it? And what was that noise? Was it my overactive imagination, the same one that kept telling me he had knocked the clock off the wall? A dry smile twitched at my lips, and I admonished myself for such foolishness. The isolation and the confounded heat were getting to me, and it was time to pull myself together. I decided to go inside for a cool drink. Just then a momentary breeze drifted past my face, gently lifting my hair. It felt different, like a feather stroking my skin. Then it grew swiftly into an aggressive wind, stinging my body and blowing dust into my eyes. Larger clouds moved across the sky obscuring the sun, and shadowing the foundations of the little house. Truly frightened, I turned to run. But my body cowered as a sudden crack of thunder exploded overhead and I jumped to dodge a falling palm frond. gasping for breath I could feel my heart pump like an engine and I stood frozen in panic. Several mangos hit the ground like missiles as my eyes darted around the scene. A crack of lightening split the heavens in two like a silver blade, releasing soft fat raindrops, along with my helpless tears. Soon water was everywhere, noisily crushing the leaves and the dust into the earth. I grabbed a nearby tree for support as a ripping groan of thunder sent shock waves through my body. The responding streak of lightning illuminated the shrine in which I stood, and before me I saw the dark eyes of an aged painted face, the hair long and matted. A scream rang out but unaware it belonged to me, I ran from it. I tried to get to the back door but the rain was so heavy and now it was blinding. My foot caught on something and I struggled to free it but then I tripped forward, and fell headlong onto the rubble.