White Intruder

• John Ung, Grade 9, Wellington Secondary College
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The water rippled in a patterned motion as I threw several pebbles in the Great Billabong. The reflection of me muddled as the ripples which held my face intertwined and clashed into each other. I stared at great anticipation that something would happen to me and excite my growing boredom.
“Bahgo! Bahgo!” A familiar voice started to anxiously cry. The sincerity and fear in her voice sparked an alertness to me as I somewhat was reluctant to get up. Getting up it was Natja; wide eyed and perplexed her anxiety steeply increasing. “Bahgo!” A white ghost has come to intrude us! With her tenacious attitude she started to tug me rudely. I played along with the game until I stumbled along the many figures.
It looked very like us, but it was white. Not the white paint in which we used. It did look real, not artificial as hard as that sounds. There were many of them. 10 or so. They were wearing special ceremonial gowns. Which covered their upperbody and another piece which covered their hips to their ankles. I started in great fascination at the weird and bright colours. It marked a very important occasion for them.
I felt violated as they discontentedly smirked and an uprising of voices started to gather amongst themselves. I didn’t understand why their attitude was so bitter to us, we have never met and it is they who intruded but their faces looked like we were the ones who selfishly and careless stepped onto their motherland. But we were here earlier than them but for some reason it didn’t look as if they were aware of that. They stared at us wide eyed; perplexed. Etched into their minds was a spark of curiosity and amusement which was shown in their still faces. We were set in different dimensional realms meeting into together. An instability of a paradox open upon this motherland.
As the waves angrily smashed themselves onto rocks and over land, a crescendo of uprising unfamiliar voices. Their distinct accent alternating rhythmically, meant nothing as it vaguely entered my ear. They started to shout.
Holding a handle and pointed it to us. Their blank faces started to liven with a precarious yet passionate motive. Pointed towards me I did not move but felt my heart beating violently as if every beat was its last. It was their special weapon pointed right to me and our people. So sophisticated, it was very portable that it could be efficiently used with one hand. They seemingly boasted their advancements over us while frantically waving their portable thunder sticks, and initiated.
With a single trigger and a loud bang, it echoed through the town awakening the ancestors of this place as the magpies and kookaburras fled away, out of sight and past the extent of the horizon.