July 1956 School Magazine

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July. 1956

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

July, 1956

SUNRISE. lh was dark when we started our journey, The stars were bright in the sky; It was that still, dark hour before daylight, And the moon was still riding high.

VENGEANCE.

It was night. Above, the sky was black with clouds. Thunder growled an ominous warning, but the exhausted native, lying stretched asleep beside a log, did not hear it. His tiny fire cast a dull glow over his body. He had been a fool to light that fire, but his superstitious fear of the dark had forced h im to do so. And that tiny, flickering light had finally led the keen- eyed vengeance party to where he lay. They were closing in on him now, lithe, swift shadows that glided noiselessly from tree to tree, in an ever-tightening circle around the doomed man. Lean, gaunt warriors they were- men that had travelled unceasingly for many days and nights, till they had driven their quarry to the point of utter exhaustion. All were armed with ugly shovel-nosed fighting spears, and each was an expert in the use of them. Suddenly, the man by the fire awoke. A true child of the w ild, h is instinct told h im tha t danger was near, and with a single bound he was on his feet, grasping his spears, looking wildly around him. Then, breaking the silence, the voice of one of the veng- eance party rang out behind him. He wheeled round, nothing but shadows met his terrified gaze. Another voice, this time to the side - and then another ! The man's taut nerves snapped, Fumbling in his haste he fitted a spear to his woomera and hurled in the direction of the first voice. There was a dull thud as the spear struck a tree, and crazed with fear he threw another spear - and yet another. Then there was s ilence. He stood quivering, perspiration running off him. He heard nothing but the far off, haunting cry of a mopoke- the natives' "Bird of Death" . A harsh, taunting laugh rang out, and the hunted one, realizing its portent, shuddered violently. He had thrown the last of his spears ! He heard them now----'heard them creeping towards him- coming closer and closer; and now he laughed too. A high, meaningless, maniacal laugh that ended in a choking gasp as the spear drove into his chest. And now, closer than before, came a mournful, sobbing cry. "Mopoke ! Mo- poke! moo- poke---". H. DODD, IV B. 33

The morning stars paled slowly,

The cross hung low in the sky;

The road was grey and lonely As morning light drew nigh .

We travelled towards the ocean

And the first faint glow of dawn; The clear, sweet notes of awakening birds Rang out to greet the morn . At last the ocean was sighted, A carpet grey and cold, But the clouds floating on the horizon Were bathed in a liquid gold. As the mighty ball of fire appeared, The colours changed their hue, And across the rosy path of the sun A solitary seagull flew.

- N. CARR, IVA.

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