K'gari

• Zahara Goodall, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

This story has been passed down for many years. This story is right, this story is true. It’s a story that brings joy and tears. I may only be a snail but let me take you down this trail. Eliza Fraser on the shore, who is she? Does she want war?
With the sand in her hair, and Mosquitoes buzzing in the air. They cover her up with ash and sand, repelling her from the light, keeping her skin white. She has fear and disgust in her eyes. The Aborigines bring Eliza to the village, a white woman amongst the black, imagine their surprise! Eliza was put to work, she gathered leaves, she gathered wood, she gathered what she could.
The Aborigines cared for her. Gave her food, shelter, and water, she did her chores. Eliza did not like that, it gave her the bores. So, she decided to run away, but without the Aborigines, her fate is that she wouldn't last a day.
Aborigines look for her, with the stars as their guides, Eliza hides, rolling her ankle in her fret, her yelping, her squealing, her whining.
Awakening the island, being inconsiderate, roaring loud like a lion. Her uncontrollable yawning, she waits on a sandbank until morning.
After that long night, Eliza sleeps against a tree. When the Aborigines find her, she yells, ‘Leave me be!’ The Aborigines make drawings on the ground… Showing her, they are helping, telling her she was found. A boat, waiting for her, two men calling for her.
Because of this, they changed the name, giving the Aborigines the blame. It’s not right, it’s wrong.
Now the island’s back, the rightful name is back you see, K’gari it will always be.