A Stranger’s Kindness – Broowaha


The ailing body of the small forlon dusty gold town in the heart of Australia’s outback received a reprieve, albeit a temporary bypass of good fortune, brought about by the sudden injection of higher value on the stock exchange. Several arthritic windmills yawed their disapproval as the wandering caravan of mining job hopefuls-weary brethren in tow-treked in. Trawled by word-of-mouth from scattered aboriginal settlements and scant ads. Mining gear juggernauts, eager to claw open previously capped deposits of the precious metal, clanged and shrieked in metal disharmony as the rusty skeletons reared up like born-again long forgotten creatures. Temporary sites were methodically erected. Laughing kids,scolding parents. The town facade, draped in drab, surrounded by breathtaking scenery, seemed to brighten with the hubbub and colorful influx. Older children from any family stole a beer,or had it thrust upon them. They ran, drinking, gagging, jostling to a nearby steel reinforced bridge half a kilometre way, leaned over the railing, gagging on the bitterness, spitting, throwing the empties some 30 meters below to join ancient rusty tin can hasbeens. Rain had long spurned the gouged valley below. Here’s more regarding Angels (blueangels.navy.mil) look at the web page. A scraggy branch gripped the valley side loosely, propped up by an equally uncertain rock.

magnolia, pink flower, flowers, blossom, spring bloom, treesOne wrought iron pub- cheap booze.It had the unwanted unofficial tag of onlooker/referee to the fights and bloody accusations- however trivial- on Saturday nights,to start off the ‘entertainment’. A wooden box police station, two cops, overworked mine-owned rescue helicopter. It was dark, Mary, a pretty half-caste teenager donned make-up took a bottle of cheap wine from the cupboard of her sleeping mother’s single dwelling,drank the contents, dry retched, walked unsteadily towards the pub. Her violent father had been killed in a mine accident. She was glad. Small mine compensation gone-her mother a cook.

Mary walked up to the remaining stragglers at the closed pub. Three hung-over teenagers stood outside on the liquor soaked blood spattered dirt. A few empty bottles and cans lay in amongst recent vomit. She tugged at her neat pony-tail,posing, brushing the tail lightly over her lips. “Hi whitey.” “Hi Mary.” She liked the goodlooking boy who answered. The other two boys grinned, winked, staggered off, parting whistle. “You Been drinkin?” “Might have bin whitey.” “Wanna walk Mary?” “Mmm…maybe.” She kissed him lightly squeezing his arm.The inebriated pair started to walk towards the direction of the bridge. He put his hands up the bottom of her dress, fumbling akwawdly, laughing .”What’s this then girl?” She pushed back and broke free…slapping his face. “He slapped her back-violently, forcing her to the ground, “bitch! you women are all the same, she bit down hard on his hand,screaming. “Bet you never had it before bitch.No-one to hear you here.” She struggled,he pinned her, ripped the clothing from her twisting torso and raped her. She sat sobbing as he dressed, tightened his belt, glancing at the blood on her dress, “damn virgin…it’s your word gainst mine…….

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