The Flute

• Richard Abrugiato, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2010

A great array of bushland covers the vast landscape. Seeping dew from a cold night fall off the eucalyptus trees. The sun rises in the distance, giving off an aura of colours. The sun's heat penetrates the skies, slowly descending towards the red, unforgiving earth. The final blistering cold moon has passed; summer has arrived, bringing with it new life and survival.

Two men rest their bodies for the new season. They've prepared themselves, body and soul, for the duration of the many harsh and heated moons to come. Intense training, spiritual sacrificed and initiation rites have given them unquestionable strength. Their ancestral skins have carried on through the years, allowing them to sustain intense interrogation from the sun without any fear. They are truly the warriors of their time.

Burnum, an influential and powerful warrior, is awakening to the sounds of nature. Birds cry to the morning skies with many possums scattering out the the light from predators. Burnum slowly rises. His stealth is his most lethal weapon. Through a small opening of the escarpment above, the light shines upon his body, glistening the forms and tones of hus muscles. Burnum stretches to reveal the full extent of his stature. His tensed deltoids and lateral muscles almost burst from the skin. The intimidating nature of his shoulders would frighten even the toughest clans. Indeed Burmum was tremendous.

"Barega, on your feet!" Barega bellows with such force it could awaken the Rainbow Serpent.

Barega's loyalty snaps him into an upright position. He had been dreaming of his Father, the previous leader of their clan. Constant battles left Barega alone throughout his childhood. Everynight he would look out towards the horizon, hoping for the return of his Father, playing his melody on the Fathers old, wooden flute.

A rather timid boy of around sixteen years of age, his agility, loyalty and intelligence made up for his slim physique. He was not a boy of action. His winning traits involved strategies, plans and intellectual tactics.

"Burnum, I apologize." Barega quivers whilst standing straight and looking at the ground.

"Make sure it does not happen again. You must always be alert, always watching your surroundings. I have conquered countless clans all due to my awareness and ability to use my surroundings." Burnum explains whilst demonstrating his ready stance. "Single warriors are much like diramus. We are always watching out surrounding, penetrating our roots into the unforgiving earth to survive."

Althouh he never shows it, Barega is intrigued with Burnum's stories. Barega's intellectual ability allows him to see deeply into these stories, to learn as much as possible from them. Dicing deep into Burnum's stories is always a way for Barega to escape the world of fighting and war. However, his loyalty to Burnum wouldn't allow him to forsake the father-figure like grasp.

"It is the end of the final cold yanada. We must hunt and gather materials for the upcoming feasts and celebrations." Burnum explains whilst gathering up his spear.

Barega responds swiftly, collecting his spear and water sack. Fire pierces his heart as Burnum speaks. A once nervous and broken down soul is reborn into a fury of masculinity and confidence. This born again spirit is intriguing to the wisest of men. Barega's warrior tenacity increases without fail whenever Burnum leads a battle charge. Warriors hide their emotions for fear of losing control but Barega's glow of loyalty ensures gentility can exist with ferocity.

Equipped with their supplies, they set off to hunt for the celebration and sacrifices. At the start of every different season, an offering of animals, prayer and dance are is made for protection and good health.

They walk with spears in hand along the rough, blister inducing terrain. Silence engulfs their toungues throughout all hunts and stealth attacks. The silence allows them to sense the possible activity of animals. However, Burnum could hear no animals. The birds which welcomed then into the new day have fallen silent. The landscape has fallen into a sudden sleep with no signs of an early rise.

"Barega, something isn't right. I hear not the sounds of nature." Burnum whispers quickly in a softer tone than usual.

"I must agree. I hear not the sounds of nature but only the sounds of darkness." Barega replies with a soft, timid tone.

The sun rose to the highest point and yet the earth is still sleeping. After two long hours of silence, they hear a distant thud.

The two warriors set off quickly, like predators pouncing on unsuspecting prey. the swift, agile movements of their feet could carry them to the afterlife and back. The thuds begin to crescendo into soul penetrating intervals of noise. However, even with all the strength in the world, nothing prepared them for what they see.

Strange men were ripping trees from the bushland, burning unwanted shrubs and piercing the earth's skin. They wore red and white clothing with a cross across their torso. Bizarre wooden sticks were slung over their shoulders and black leather covered their feet. As well as the odd clothing, nothing struck Burnum more than their pale skin.

"burnum, what are they?" Barega whispers on obvious wonder and anxiety.

"Maiyal and dreamtie enemies as our Fathers have told. I though of them as myths, stories but they are indeed real." Burnum explains with hatred across his voice.

The maiyal continue to tear down the foundations of the bushland. burnum redies himself for battle, tightly gripping his spear. barega does the same. His eyes are scary, hatred comes across his face. Barega wanted blood; his father would tell stories of their ways. His resistance to emotion may become crippled just by the thought of these tales.

"Barega, your tenacity is fierce. use it to your advantage." Burnum explains with a louder and angrier tone then before. "Prepare to fight!"

Just before Burnum roars the battle cry, Barega hears that special melody. One of the maiyal is playing the flute. it appears carved from similiar wood from the trees within the tribe's previous home, the same wood which Barega's father's flute was made.

The melody reaches Barega's ears. His body becomes weak and his legs collapse. He falls to the ground weeping and crying out soft words.

"Biyanga...I need you...biyanga." Barega cries. His body quivering whilst Burnum shadows Barega with nothing but astonishment across his face.