War In The Outback

• Leah Veld, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2014

War in the Outback

The surface of the lake glistened as the night’s moon shone upon it. A lone pelican rested, its silhouette drifting on the top of the still water. A strong scent of eucalyptus hung in the dry, dusty air. With every one of my footsteps came a crunching sound as I walked through the thin dry, grass. My long fringe covering my eyes as I felt the soft wind swiftly sweep past my face.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot filled the air. I turned and bolted towards the house; a faint outline of our little cottage stood some distance away. As I ran towards it a breeze swirled around me and a bolt of lightning struck the ground only metres away from me. As I ran I could see the faint colour of the red paint on our little wooden door. I made it inside only seconds before the heavy rain started to pelt down. We haven’t had rain like this for many years. Our many years of drought were about to come to an end.

The sound of another gunshot filled the air. Next thing I know I’m being dragged outside to the little air raid shelter in the ground. Gunshots filled the air as my mother and I huddled together with a woollen blanket wrapped around us. My father rushed down towards us and placed a wooden plank between the two inside handles connected to the shelter. Father took us lower into the shelter where two bunks were built into the wall like in a cell. A small wood fire oven stood in a corner, garlic, ham, a saw, oil, sausages, swags, pillows, tents and backpacks hung from the roof. A small, round table was placed in the middle of the room; a coat rack was nailed into the wall near the small wood fire stove. Father grabbed a rifle and ran towards the door. He ran outside and started to shoot. Mother and I could hear gunshots being fired. Suddenly, there was silence. Father came running back into us. “Coast is clear” he said, still trying to catch his breath. Mother and I carefully walked outside. The first thing I saw was the carcass of the beautiful pelican that I had seen only a few minutes earlier.

Suddenly, gunshots rang through the air again. Mother and I rushed back into the air raid shelter where Father was still sitting with the rifle. He quickly stood up and ran towards the sound of the gunshots. Mother closed the shelter doors and slid the wooden plank between the handles again. A few more gunshots were fired and then suddenly we heard a groan and scream. There was a thud against the shelter doors. “That should be the end of him” we heard someone murmur to another person. Blood began to run between the timber planks of the shelter’s doors.

Clothed in black, mother and I went to father’s funeral not looking forward to living alone.