KALEIDOSCOPE PIPING SHRIKE KALEIDOSCOPE Copyright 1999 Copyright remains with the individual authors No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without their written permission PIPING SHRIKE Published by PIPING SHRIKE 1999 Professional Writing and Communication BA University of South Australia KALEIDOSCOPE Magill Campus St Bernards Road, Magill South Australia 5072 typeset in Garamond 12 and Copperplate Gothic Bold 15/20/30 cover design: Tiffany Linke Printed by Document Services University of South Australia 1 Wilford Ave Underdale South Australia 5032 ISBN O 86803 659 5 University of South Australia CONTENTS The game boy Ynys Onsman 1 Till death do us part Bridget Reynolds 3 Staring from the upside down Simon Be henna 8 Twenty-five words or less Elizabeth Ingerson 9 PeaceS Michelle Wauchope 11 Strawberry quik Simon Murphy 13 Pride and the fall Ynys Onsman 14 Ciao Liam Freeman 16 Genesis Jane Maidment 17 Llquid perfect Hol(y Wilson 20 He was a corker chap Simon Behenna 22 The girl Davies Allan Woodward 28 An early winter's day Stephen Cox 29 It doesn't really matter Andrew Lau 37 Black rain, black night Caroline Butcher 38 A visit to the doctor Simon Behenna 40 Observations & etiquette of the men's public toilet Simon Murphy 42 The ruin Sarah Godfrey 44 The fairground Martina Kocian 45 Brunette Ynys Onsman 51 Behind closed doors Kel(y Schilling 52 Nicholas Road Elizabeth Ingerson 55 Window Jane Maidment 56 God must not flee from science Joel Brac(y 57 A fleeting glance Allan Woodward 58 CONTENTS EDITORIAL Eighty years on Bridget Reynolds 60 Welcome to the second edition of Piping shrike. We have called this edition The story of a blueberry pie & 'Kaleidoscope' to reflect the myriad of writing styles, concepts, and themes the five little brackets Andrew Lau 61 covered by our writers. The high standard and volume of work submitted has demonstrated the commitment of students at all levels to the permanency of Salvation blues Paul Kain 63 Piping shrike. The reception Kelly Higgins 64 The last time Stephen Cox 68 We would like to thank the Professional Writing team for encouraging students to Spinners Kelly Goerecke 71 submit their work; and our incumbent editor Caroline Butcher, who will continue the tradition with the next edition. Finally, we would like to thank the professional Market at dawn Juanita Hanna 72 writers for contributing their considerable creative talents to Piping shrike. Could've would've should've Simon Murphy 78 I remember Sam Fields 79 Paul Kain, Cathryn Lehmann, Cassie Osborn October 1999 1 THE GAME BOY YNYS0NSMAN He Follows the screen Sees Only in its strange perspective No Peripheral vision. One Player only, or so he thinks I Hate it Hate The reloading gun, the booming shots, the Silence Except for those sounds. It's What he wants. Power Is emanating from his finger tips. Is Anything else existing? No, it's Total. His focus is total. I Am forced to jealousy, Fear I'm no competition for something so engrossing. 2 THE GAME BOY 3 He TILL DEATH Do Us PART Wants to trawl its layers, BRIDGET REYNOLDS Needs To find its secret traps and prizes To Dusty white soil packed tightly together forms a thin, hard crust; small rough Learn the right moves, and so know it, stones scattered like spilt marbles litter the flat. Thin stalks of long dead weeds, Control breaking through the surface after the last rain but unable to survive the lack It, master it. of water and nutrition, sparsely cover the land, saving it from the appearance of drought. I The sun beats down, reflecting off the ground, creating stifling heat interrupted Meanwhile, am left unexplored, I only by a slight breeze. Am Ignored, with all my layers, I can do The constant roll of hills stream as far as the eye can see. Only the occasional Nothing small shrub stands defiantly against nature, a gentle breeze rustling the prickly My protestations an irritating distraction branches. Gum creeks run through the land like veins running between the hills; distinctly visible by the tall, proud eucalyptus trees growing along their edges. He Speaks To It Crows cry out their eerie, lonesome call, the noise travelling across the land; the I Sit Alone sound echoes through the morning, breaking the silence. Grand mountains of the range hold the scenery like a picture frame against the clear blue sky. Ants scurry quickly across the hot ground like an army on the attack, their charge disrupting the surrounding stillness. Large black flies overcome by the heat buzz lazily, going nowhere, and lizards lie on the hot rocks in the sun. Sheep stand in groups under small trees, seeking relief from the relentless sun. Idly they graze, waiting for evening to come so they can make their way to water. The homestead stands on a hill looking out across the land. The galvanised iron roof reflects the sun, a stark contrast to the raw colours of nature. The presence of people is evident only through this man-made structure and the fences which run like scars across the hills. My husband loves it here; you can see the pride fill his eyes as he stands like a bloody king surveying his land. All the droughts and floods that we have suffered are merely a memory to him of a great battle fought courageously against nature. He rules this land, working with nature one day, fighting against it the next. So far we've won the battles but I can't see us winning the war. Too many times we've 4 TILL DEATH Do Us PART TILL DEATH Do Us PART 5 had our hearts broken, nearly losing everything because nature turned against us. home and it is unlikely they will return to live here. What's out here for them? One day the inevitable will happen: we'll break under the pressure and nature will They visit briefly, come to see their olds and then head off to the life they've rule over all. made for themselves somewhere else. For them, coming here is like returning to I've told him, fifteen years tops then we're leaving. I'm not going to stay out here their childhood but not a part of the real world. in the middle of nowhere, going quietly insane and waiting to die. Realistically, I I guess it doesn't much matter if I like the land; truth be known I don't mind it all know that in fifteen years we'll still be here, and that one day we'll probably die that much. I hate the isolation but I love him and he's here. The price I have to pay out here. Where else could we go? It would be cruel for me to force him to leave. for love is a small one compared to some. This has been his life for so long; anywhere else he'd wither up and slowly die. **** Forget all the romantic stories you hear about the bush. Drovers have long gone in these parts; horses are old fashioned and slow. The stars are nice but I'm either too There it is: the land stretches out in front on me, our property, our land. When I busy or too tired to be sitting around admiring sparkling spots in the sky. In the stand out on the veranda my heart swells with pride. This is mine; I've worked for summer it's bloody hot and in the winter it's bloody cold. Long hours and physical this and now here it is, mine. exhaustion and all for what? To say that today we won the battle. Now that I have it, I have to work it. There are fences which must be maintained, That's what he lives for. Each morning he rises early and after eating his breakfast bores that need to be checked, and sheep that need tending. So each day I go out he faces another day. Long, hard, physical labour; he comes inside in the and I work my land. evening-sweaty, dusty and grimy. On his arms are fresh scratches covered in dry Each day I work to improve and extend the previous day's work. As I work I grow blood that he hasn't even noticed. His skin is so burnt it's nearly black; one day older. I watch myself change; I watch my family change. My wife ages with me, he'll hear about skin cancer. 'maturing together' they'd probably say in the books. The kids've grown up now He's happy with his sheep and his dogs. Pulling bores and fixing tanks between and moved on to bigger and better things. Could break a bloke's heart that, the shearing and lamb marking. Standing up fences every time the floods wash them realisation that his kids have outgrown him and everything he's worked for. They down, and baiting for the dingoes that mutilate the lambs. Every time I think it gets don't see it that way, but it's how it seems to me. too much, he reaches a bit deeper and finds the will to go on. His heart has been My wife, well she... she'll always be with me. We came here together and I guess one broken by this place too many times but that gives him the strength to fight; he will day we'll leave together. She reckons another fifteen years 'til me time's up here.