mansion hidden beneath the rugged past
The trees rustled against the howling wind, but through the thickly lain woods a secret not yet discovered lay, a house haunted by the souls… of the past.
The walls were rugged and bewitched, the large towers were covered in poisonous ivy and the chimney still spurted smoke from its flew. The house seemed to draw near animals of the woods, freezing them beneath its roof, and holding them there, it was as if the house its self was a prison cold and withdrawn. The house was ancient, but… someday when it was discovered it would perhaps… come in use.
run, run, run
The golden, stallion stood poised one forefoot raised, head held high ears pricked listening, waiting, listening. his nose trembled but his feet held firmly on the ground. here he was king of the snowy plains, a Mopoke sounded in the distance calling a warning to all brumbies… for men were coming. another sound rang out distant and clear, a neigh. slowly the young stallion answered and the light shone on him crisp and clear. an man cried out “did you hear?”. the young stallion galloped away men on his heels dog at foot. the men didn’t have a telephone so the couldn’t call for help.
Alma
as I skipped wholeheartedly down the snow packed alleyway I noticed a board, it was black but the writing upon it took up most of its charred look and instead, almost painted it white. after staring at the chalk board for some time, I realized that the scribbles and mess was… names. excitedly, I took the chalk and wrote my name, Alma… the chalk board groaned and screeched but, some thing else sounded over the noise… I froze, and slowly turned to see a face. a wooden nose stuck out from underneath the square eyes and the mouth was as if it were a wolf with gaping jaws and vampire teeth. but there was something else half seen half… swallowed. I ran to the window and rubbed the fog off of it. then I saw it, a doll or my reflection? I looked around slowly and suddenly it was gone! the doll was gone! I wanted it I needed it, I walked timidly over to the door and pulled the handle, but… nothing moved, the door didn’t open. angrily I took a hand-full of cold, wet snow and shoved it against the the glass and silver handle, I trudged away scraping my hand across the wall as I walked. suddenly a creek sounded through the cold silence, I smiled turned around and walked back to the little shop the door had opened!
I stepped towards a table were my doll stood and leaned closer about to take it but a rattling sound broke my motion. I looked down to see, lying on the ground, a little doll on a battered grey tricycle his legs were moving but the bike had no motion. I bent down and stood him up his little wheels barely touching the ground. and then he was off away to the door which was creepily closing behind me. I smiled and turned to the my doll, but… where was it? I looked around and saw her standing on a rugged looking shelf. I climbed on top of the dull green sofa that was just in-front of the shelf where my doll was stood, I stretched out for her but couldn’t quite reach. Taking of my glove with my teeth I reached a little further, this time I touched her, but it wasn’t happiness that filled my bones but, instead a cold shiver started from my toes and ran all the way up my spine. my eyes met her eyes my body was taken, now I realized why that cyclist was trying to get out. I was trapped inside a body that wasn’t my own. Alma wasn’t a girl any more she… was a doll.
The End
world to world
As I looked around the little room of our new house, I noticed that something was hidden beneath the moving boxes and junk… was it, a door? I didn’t have time to investigate further because it was after dinner and I had to help out by washing the dishes.
when all was quiet I leapt out of bed, as a lion would when hunting, and shoved the boxes out of the way to find a little door almost camouflaged against the white walls.
I opened the little door and suddenly felt as if I was falling into some distant world…
the mare who once was free
fear came upon the small silver mare… she had been captured, caught for her beauty.
the large round paddock was strong and showed no evidence of other brumbies. but the silver mare knew that the horses which chased her with men sitting upon their backs once roamed the snowy-mountains.
Lucy gazed at the mare her father had caught only a few hours ago, she watched it rear up on its hind legs and buck and kick. the young mare (Lucy knew) was trying to get out… but that would do no good. she wanted to let that beautiful mare out but no… with a tear, she walked away.
the big black stallion
as the huge black stallion came galloping towards me, I felt somewhat relived but at the same time… I just wanted to scooter away from him. as he came running up I noticed his eyes they… were scared. they were scared for his beloved mare and foal, scared for… for himself.
you see he was galloping towards me because my father had stolen his small herd, wanting them for breeding, beauty and also power. but I didn’t want any of these things, I and I alone wanted them to be free.
so that night, dead at night… I released them.
drought forever
Over head the fan revolved slowly, pushing out only a little cold wind every movement. the concrete out side was sweltering from the heat and the the gravel stones along the foot path were turning a strange pink colour as if they had been singed from the hot summers sun. I so wanted to jump into the old half full fish bowl, but there was no use… the cat had beet me to it. I wasn’t very hungry though… I wanted to be. I hadn’t eaten un-canned food for fortnights, and just as it seemed the drought would never cease.
~the young grey colt~ ~part 2 (horse catchers view)~
we had lost track of that young grey colt, we had chased him down the mountain side and brought him down the bend but were was he now? had we really chased him? he was like the dust and to the dust, that colt would disappear. as we galloped our horses back to our hut, the bell went and we were in trouble.
That was Mrs. Julia Skinner ringing the dinner bell. we had already failed to catch the sire of that beautiful dusty colt and now we had failed to catch him, Aphrah. now we would have to sell our land and eat cabbages for a living.
the young grey colt
Nervously the young grey colt stepped out of its scribbly-gum hiding place and watched the men gallop their horses down the hill round the bend and back into the small hut and yards they had came from. Aphrah* (the young grey colt) cantered through the gullies and dusty pot holes back to is worried dam and sire and also to his friend karee who had been watching in silence as Aphrah had been illegally chased throughout the snowy mountains. the men hand never caught Aphrah’s Father bang, and until they caught Aphrah they would eat cabbages.
*Aphrah means the dust
