In the Dark (Kerry)

You discover your boss is involved in illegal activity. Tell the story using dialogue as much as possible.

“Follow him, Jimmy,” Col whispers urgently to the young man at his elbow. “I’ll wait here and keep an eye out for the cops.”

Jimmy slips away into the shadows of the building, out of the glare of the street lights. He darts from the laneway where Col is crouching and quickly works his way along the street following the silhouette of the man in the distance. There is no sound in the street. The buildings are dark, long since emptied of office workers, shop assistants and tourists.

The man ahead disappears. Jimmy quickens his pace, anxious not to lose sight of his quarry. There is only one way he could have gone – into the car park at the end of the lane. Jimmy is cautious about entering the car park at this hour. He shivers involuntarily. The wind lifts a sheet of newspaper at the end of the lane, startling him. 

The phone call he had overheard at work that morning had alerted him to this rendez-vous. His boss had appeared nervous and distracted, talking urgently. 

“After midnight…Millers Lane…By yourself…”

Jimmy was furious to think that his boss was pushing into his beat, the area he shared with Col. He and Col had worked the block around the QVB for six months now. They’d have to deal with this intrusion.

Silently now, Jimmy approaches the stairwell to the car park. He stops quickly, hearing low voices close by. 

“Did you get it?”

“Yes, it’s here in my brief-case.”

“Hand it over then.”

The tone is desperate. Jimmy crouches in the shadows. He can’t see the two men but recognises the voice of his boss, the man he has followed. He hears a crackling sound as of paper. A case is snapped shut. Quick footsteps echo across the empty car park. Jimmy presses against the wall, out of sight to any passers-by.

He jumps when he hears his name being whispered from the darkness behind him. He turns. Col emerges from a doorway recess nearby.

“The cops are out there on Clarence Street. They’ve got the sniffers. What’s happened here? Where’s the boss?" 

Col’s breath is coming in uneven bursts. Jimmy raises his hand, indicating danger, urging him to be quiet. Col slumps to the ground to catch his breath.

“I’ve lost him,” Jimmy whispers in Col’s ear. “But he’s done the deal. He handed something over to another bloke. Couldn’t see them though. They’re both gone.”

“We’ve got to get out of here before the cop’s find us,” Col mutters under his breath. He drags himself to his feet and pulls at Jimmy. Suddenly they both freeze. A man has emerged from the darkness of the car park.

“It’s him,” Jimmy breathes. “We’ve got to find out what he’s up to. Let me do the talking.”

He steps out from the shadows as his boss approaches.

“Quiet night, John,” Jimmy says approaching the man coming down the laneway. He stands squarely in the middle of the road, forcing him to come to a stop. 

“Jimmy, is that you?” the man whispers incredulously. “And Col, what’re you doing here?” he adds as Col steps out beside Jimmy.

“Thought we’d ask you the same question, John.”

Jimmy feels for the knife he carries in his belt. His boss is playing it cool and he’s not taking any chances. This could get nasty. 

“Seeing a man about a dog,” the man responds evasively.

“Don’t get smart with us, John,” Jimmy snarls. “This is our territory and you’re trespassing.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve just met my cousin here.”

“A likely story,” Jimmy interrupts with a snicker. “Why would you be meeting anybody here at three o’clock in the morning?" 

“He’s on the six o’clock flight to Singapore this morning,” John explains in response to Jimmy’s hostile questioning. “Wanted me to bring him his passport. He left it at my place last week when he went down to Melbourne. This was the only chance I had to give it to him." 

“What do you mean ‘your territory’, by the way?” he adds. 

“Never mind. None of your business. Just don’t come down here in the middle of the night again. Alright?”

Jimmy starts to back off. It sounds like he and Col might have got the wrong end of the stick.

Their boss nods and sidesteps the two men. He walks quickly away from them, back towards Clarence Street, smiling as he fingers the wads of cash in his pocket.

Winter Vision (Kerry)

Write about a childhood memory of snow

Excitement erupted in the car as we saw the familiar giant pine trees along the fence line to our left. Dad slowed down in order to make a surprise entrance. There was no dust trail now. We reckoned no-one in the house would have seen us coming. Once we turned the last corner before the house we were hidden behind the tall cedar hedge.

“Where’s the comb?” Mum asked. “Everybody tidy up. Here’s a hanky to clean off your faces. Kerry, help Randall with his, will you? Quickly." 

I sensed the tension in her voice. We'd been in the car for nearly three hours. It’d been a long trip with five kids, and no seat belts to keep us under control. But it was important for Mum to show us at our best because this was her family home, where she had lived before going away to high school and University and before she and Dad got married. Grandma and Grandpa lived here still with Mum’s twin, Uncle Wilfred, and her big sister, Auntie Flo.

Dad drove the car slowly up the driveway and brought it to a halt at the back gate. We scrambled out, a little shy now that we had arrived. Our attempt at stealth had been thwarted. Auntie Flo was at the gate. She stood waiting, hands planted on her wide hips and a welcoming smile on her face. 

“Hello, everybody,” she said warmly. “Did you have a good trip? Nobody car sick this time I hope? My goodness, I hardly know who’s who. You’ve all grown so much in the time I’ve been away. Who’s this big boy?”

She picked Randall up and gave him a cuddle. He was not impressed and started to cry so Auntie Flo handed him to Mum. The rest of us were used to Auntie Flo. She’d come and looked after us when Mum went into hospital to have Randall the year before. She was much stricter than Mum. She wouldn’t let us leave the table until we had eaten everything on our plates. But we loved the stories she told us. She was a war widow, very independent, and had taken several trips overseas. After Mum came home from the hospital, Auntie Flo headed off to England again. To recover, we thought. This was the first time we’d seen her since she’d come back.

“What was England like?” I asked her bravely. “Did you bring any presents home?”

She smiled secretly, turned and strode up the path to the back door, with all of us in her wake. I breathed in the perfume of jasmine as we brushed past it. The spring garden was a feast of colour. Garden beds of lilies and annuals lined the path. In the distance I could see Grandma’s special roses behind the vegetable garden. 

Auntie Flo opened the screen door. It sighed in that particular way it had of conveying that it was doing you a favour by being so obliging. We were ushered into the dark kitchen and stood in a rough huddle near the stove where it was warm. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness Auntie Flo produced a basket. She put it on the table in front of us, pulled out the first treasure and handed it to me.

I felt the weight of it in my hand. It was a transparent glass ball on a wooden base. I peered in. There were two skaters inside, perfect in every detail. They were gliding around a skating rink beside a dark forest.

“Shake it a little,” Auntie Flo said.

I gave it a momentary shake and a miracle happened. Tiny wet snowflakes filled the sky with light. Gently they fell to the ground. Some settled on the trees, some on the skaters. I was entranced by the unexpected magic of the snow.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” I cried, giving it another shake.

“When you’re a bit older I’ll take you with me to Europe,” Auntie Flo said. “Then you can see real snow and real skaters.”

But she never did.

 

Realising the Dream (Kerry)

You realise the 'brick wall' is an illusion.

“What d’you think, Auntie Pat?” Ali sings out to her aunt who is sitting on the ground at the other end of the wide verandah. She proudly holds up the painting she’s been working on. Its colours gleam in the bright light.

“It’s real good, Ali,” Pat shouts back. “You let somethin’ go I reckon. You bin here a week now, painted every day, just like your grandma used to.”

Ali sets the canvas down on the ground again and studies it carefully. It makes her heart sing to look at it. The wet paint has responded to her mark-making in ways she had not expected. There is a melody playing in her head as she tracks over the beautiful blending of pinks, yellows and sky blues. She loves the boldness of its black background. Picking the painting up carefully, she walks over to Pat. She sits down cross-legged beside the old woman. Pat goes on quietly with her own painting, dipping the brush in the little pots and applying the colours gently to the surface of her canvas.

Ali waits. She closes her eyes. Up close she hears the minute sounds of Pat’s brush on the canvas. There is a cicada scratching a discordant tune in the peppercorn tree beside her. Occasionally she picks up the sound of a crow in the bush over near the shed. Away from the shelter of the verandah the sun burns relentlessly. Ali can feel the luxurious warmth of it on her arms even in the shade. This is her country. It’s in her bones. And in her head.

Pat lays down her brush.

“So, you happy to be here?” she asks nonchalantly.

“It’s not like last time,” Ali replies firmly. ”When Mum brought me here all those years ago I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be a white girl then. At school I always felt not quite one or the other. Not black, not white. Neither.”

Ali fiddles with the buttons on her shirt. It was painful for her to remember how confused she had been.

“You pretty angry those days,” Pat suggests. “Banging your head against the wall don’t help. Your mum show you proper country, your place. But you had eyes shut. Not seeing. Now you see. It’s there. In your painting. Your Dreaming.”

Ali had stopped banging her head against that illusory wall of prejudice and misunderstanding a couple of years ago.

“It’s good to be here. With you, Auntie Pat. Learning about the country, my family.”

Ali spreads her painting out on the ground beside Pat’s. She acknowledges the peace she feels in her heart.

Monologue to the Mosquito (Kerry)

You are an animal stalking your prey. Write about it from an animal’s perspective.

-Did you hear that? That tapping noise. It’s coming from outside. I’m not going out until it’s stopped. Could be a magpie. Probably won’t be a problem but it’s better to be cautious.

-Move over a bit, will you? You’re crowding me. I don’t usually share this space. Generally a loner, see. I suppose in the zoo you were used to mobs, crowded in together.

-No need to get grumpy. The rule is whoever gets here first gets best place. That’s me, OK. This cool spot under the leaves suits me. See how I’ve hollowed out a little hiding place. Now, unless you’ve got something useful to contribute, go back to sleep.

-You awake? I can’t sleep. I’m so hungry. It must nearly be dark surely. Seems to be cooling down. Since you’re the new boy, how about you poke your nose out the end there and see how the land lies.

-Anything around?

-I mean dangerous things, of course. Didn’t they teach you anything? Kookaburras, number one. There’s often a couple sitting in the branch up above us. Snakes, number two. Slippery customers, snakes. Never seen one myself but heard plenty of stories of lucky escapes. And humans, number three. They blunder around and are easy to spot. Noisy, no respect. I know you probably think humans are the ant’s pants but not out here, buddy. Got the idea? See anything like that?

-No? Well, let’s go. You follow me. If you haven’t done this by yourself before, just watch my signals.

-Ease yourself out gently. The edge of the log is a bit rough. Now follow the smell of water. Pick it up? That cool, reedy tang. It’s strongest over this way. We should be safe if we move quickly through the long grass. Speed in the air is the key. But stay low. Strong take-off but swift. Got the idea? And break the rhythm every so often. Stay down for a bit then a couple of quick ones.

-This is going to be a good night. Plenty of moisture in the air after that thunderstorm. Pretty violent, wasn’t it? Love ‘em myself. Washed you out of your enclosure, did it?

-Hold it!

-I saw a movement. Keep your head down. It’s a human, sitting on that rock. Very restless, keeps hitting himself. Thank God for the mosquitoes. OK, he’s had enough. He’s going away.

-Now, on this last section keep the pace slow. Here near the pond is where we’re most likely to encounter a problem. I just want to get in close. There are a few special places I have in mind where I can hide and knock off the mozzies as they come in.

-Freeze!

-That was close. I forgot to warn you about ducks. They’re vicious. And fast.

-Be on guard now. Wait for the mozzie to land then flick. Tongue out, tongue in. You’ve got to keep your eye on the target. Watch me.

-Oh, yes! Delicious.

-And again. Ah, bliss!