This piece has won 3rd place (and some money) in the annual Peter Cowan Writers Centre 600 word Short Story Competition.
At the end of the word
The man had sensed the teenage boy was out there, even before the dog smelled him and hunted him into the clearing, nipping at his heels.
‘Call your bloody dog off!’ the boy snapped.
The man looked at the dog and it sloped off to drink water from a tin bowl.
‘You oughta have him chained up.’
The man turned his back on the boy and went to sit in the old armchair under the lean-to veranda. He took a sip of tea from his enamel mug, picked up a book, opened at it the page marked by a feather and began to read.
‘Can I have something to drink?’
The man didn’t look up but nodded in the direction of the rainwater tank. A tin mug dangled from a rusty chain on the tap.
‘Jesus, mate, I’m not that desperate. What about a coffee?’
The man continued to read.
The boy began to walk towards the house. The dog moved into his path, with its lip curled and emanating a guttural sound. The boy groaned before moving towards the tank.
When he’d finished, he sat on a tree stump and looked around the clearing. Apart from the small house, there was a chook run, a veg patch enclosed by chicken wire, and an outhouse.
At dusk, the man put down his book and entered the house, leaving the door open. Shortly after, a light appeared in the window and wispy smoke began to emerge from the chimney.
The boy ventured as close as the dog would allow him and called out ‘Any chance of a feed?’
Just before dark, the man appeared, dropped a blanket on the armchair and put a plate of steaming stew, with a spoon sticking out of it, on the veranda floor. The dog emerged and settled on a pile of hessian bags between the chair and the door. The man returned inside, closed the door with the thunk of a heavy bolt and the light was extinguished.
The dog allowed the boy to pick up the plate and sit in the chair to eat. After eating, the boy stared briefly into the total darkness. He closed his eyes and wrapped the blanket tightly around his thin frame.
…
The boy woke to the sound of caroling magpies and a vehicle navigating its way up the twisting track to his house. The man was up. He pointed to the bush and the boy took off.
When it arrived, a Police officer stepped out and said ‘G’day. Sergeant Cameron Thomas, Yarra Valley Police. Just wondering if you could help me.’ The man said nothing.
Thomas produced a photo and showed it to the man. ‘Recognise this lad?’ The man’s face remained immobile.
Thomas noticed an ancient and battered Land Rover. ‘Do you have drivers licence?’ The man retrieved a wallet from his back pocket and extracted a plastic card which he proffered to Thomas. He wrote down the details in his notebook, took a photo of the card with his phone and returned the licence to the man.
Thomas climbed into his vehicle and started the engine but before he drove off he said through the open window, ‘If you do come across that young bloke, be careful. I think he could be dangerous.’
After Thomas left, the man returned to his armchair on the veranda, picked up his book and apart from turning the pages, he and his dog sat perfectly still. They knew the boy would not come back.
This is a repost, yes?
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Yep, messed up my categories and couldn’t find the earlier one. Doh!
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Yes. It’s weird. I was sure I posted this earlier but then couldn’t find it when I wanted to link it. Gotta love WP. 😉
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Worth reading again though! 😉
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Riveted me right to my chair.
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Glad to hear it, Misky.
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I can see why this story won a prize, Doug. It is a great story! What a great old man. You did an amazing job with show don’t tell, which most writers, including myself, struggle with. 🙂
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Thanks so much, Marsha. I am also forever being lambasted by MFA graduates and their journals for doing too much telling. I usually return the compliment by telling them what they can do with their advice about not telling. 🙂
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Seriously? You do less telling than almost anyone I know. I am an expert teller! I took a class through the Australian Writing Centre with my blogging friend Carol. The teacher told me I was doing too much telling. I didn’t have a clue how to stop it, at that point. I don’t know that I’m much better, but at least I recognize a good showing story!
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You are kind to say that, Marsha, but US mag editors seem to think I’m a teller. Can’t say I’m a big fan of AWC but I hope they helped.
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I didn’t do anything with the training, but it was fun taking the class with my friend.
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