Short Stories

The Man that I Talked to

The English in this is funny because it's meant to be an accent. I also did this for English. Based on an Aboriginal that escaped one of the facilities that they used to keep Aboriginal children in.

The bush buzzed with anticipation. I hurried past trees full of animals that gave me steady silent glances. Jumping over trees, rocks and large patches of grass. I swooped down, by some rocks holding my breath for any noise, all I could hear were the cicadas. No noise; that meant no one was chasing me. I pulled myself up to my feet again and ran. Every kilometer stopping, resting and listening for and pursuers. I was tired though, I needed to rest, and to eat. My legs were sore and my eyes were murky.
I made my way up to some flowers and pulled several from its entanglement of leaves, taking the stalks off each and sucking out the honey that lay comfortably inside. I lay by a tree, my eyelids shutting over my eyes easily.

I could smell smoke! My eyes wound open and right in front of me was a campfire. I could feel the fire’s heat topple over me.
“Crap” I utter as I observe the man on the other side his grey beard hanging off his chin.
“Watcha doin mate” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
I look around for an escape, I have plenty of room to bolt away, but my feet are still killing me and the fire holds a nice warmth that I haven’t felt in ages.
“I’m runnin” I reply staring into the direct center of the mans eyes.
“Runnin are ya” he says “where from.”
I move uncomfortably, but I can run whenever I like so there isn’t that much harm talking to him.
“From the house.”
“Which house would that be?” he asks looking around at the thick layer of bush.
“The bad house” I reply.
The man nods in understanding.
“Where ya gowen then” he asks. I look around even more uncomfortably.
“You can tell me” he chuckles “i wont tell anyone” he serveys the trees “besides, no one ever listens to Sam no more.” He’s telling the truth.
“I’m gowen to find my sister, they took me and my sister from mum” I say thinking of my sisters grin.
“Where’s she then” he asks.
I frown that’s what I don’t know, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where my sister is. I just want to get away from the house, where they hurt me. Where they belt me, so much my legs have scars and my palms have gashes.
“You don’t know then” the man nods getting the picture.
“Do you know” I ask sitting up a bit.
The man shakes his head “Nah, don’t know, how old is ur sister?”
“She’s fifteen” I say pciking up some grass.
“How old are you then?” he questions.

“Seventeen, I was taken from mum, bout 7 years a-go. Haven’t seen either of them since.”
The man shuffles from his sitting position and reaches into a little satchel.
“Well mate, ur sister’s probably in a home now, ur mother, I don’t know.”
“Which home” I asked rising to my feet in anticipation of finding my sister.
The man pulls out a load of damper, stands up and hands it to me.
“Mate, theres around a billion homes here in Australia, she’s probably a  maid in one of them. I almost drop the bread I’m holding. I have seen terrible things in the last 7 years, I have seen my friends killed by drunken suppiriors, I have only heard stories of rape and then I have had pain conflicted on me. All in hope that one day I would see my sister and mum again.
“I have to go” I say patting the man on the shoulder.
“Gurd luck in, findin ur sister” he replies. I run into the dense bush my heart set on wherever I have to go, to find my sister.