Death in the Desert
A man is killed in a desert community.8 total reviews
Comment from frogbook
A very interesting and cleverly penned tale. Great story progression and description of this event and your emotions toward it.
reply by the author on 12-Feb-2018
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A very interesting and cleverly penned tale. Great story progression and description of this event and your emotions toward it.
Comment Written 08-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 12-Feb-2018
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Many thanks for your encouraging review.
Comment from dracofelsinensis
This account took me to another place and a different way of life. The 'sorry' cutting and nulla-nulla, for example, were unknown to me. (I did watch that film Jindabyne a few years ago [excuse my spelling!] where there was tribal mourning for the murdered young native Australian woman.)
Your closing paragraphs had some surprises: the outpouring of relief and anger from bashing the big tree with another nulla-nulla, which was quite funny; then the mention of depression, which was both sad and unexpected.
My one problem was the internal logic; I don't know the customs of the people involved and may be missing something obvious. Take, for instance, "he was carrying a coolamon basket full of a wide array of traditional weapons". So Jungurai approaches you in broad daylight and in full view, not with one weapon in his hand but many in a basket, presumably used for the 'sorry' cutting and clubbing. He doesn't accelerate and even laughs. You felt what you felt, and I respect that; but, in narrative terms, I can't see how you could be sure he was angry with you, let alone determined to kill you or even challenge you (to a duel?) Perhaps this could be made clearer.
A few more commas and line insertions would help, though it still reads very well and is intriguing and unusual. Well done!
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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This account took me to another place and a different way of life. The 'sorry' cutting and nulla-nulla, for example, were unknown to me. (I did watch that film Jindabyne a few years ago [excuse my spelling!] where there was tribal mourning for the murdered young native Australian woman.)
Your closing paragraphs had some surprises: the outpouring of relief and anger from bashing the big tree with another nulla-nulla, which was quite funny; then the mention of depression, which was both sad and unexpected.
My one problem was the internal logic; I don't know the customs of the people involved and may be missing something obvious. Take, for instance, "he was carrying a coolamon basket full of a wide array of traditional weapons". So Jungurai approaches you in broad daylight and in full view, not with one weapon in his hand but many in a basket, presumably used for the 'sorry' cutting and clubbing. He doesn't accelerate and even laughs. You felt what you felt, and I respect that; but, in narrative terms, I can't see how you could be sure he was angry with you, let alone determined to kill you or even challenge you (to a duel?) Perhaps this could be made clearer.
A few more commas and line insertions would help, though it still reads very well and is intriguing and unusual. Well done!
Comment Written 07-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Many thanks for your honest review. I appreciate your comments on internal logic in particular and I will address them. in my writing Just briefly, my assessment of Jungarai's intentions came from the fact that he had just killed someone and is now striding towards me with all his weapons. In a tense and stress-filled situation it seemed obvious that killing me was a logical conclusion. The take on his smiling face is one of fear bordering on blind panic. Thanks again for your constructive review of my story.
Comment from Sherman541
That was a very entertaining story with enough satire to make some parts funny. It was very interesting, as well. I am glad you are alive to tell the story. Sherman541
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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That was a very entertaining story with enough satire to make some parts funny. It was very interesting, as well. I am glad you are alive to tell the story. Sherman541
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Thank you for your kind words of encouragement. I echo your sentiment about gladness for my life.
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you are welcome
Comment from His Grayness
Certainly, this work captures the reader immediately and then holds on firmly as the story rolls out rather rapidly and with strong curiosity. I cannot offer anything to improve this work and thank this author for a fine read! HIS GRAYNESS; Vance
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Certainly, this work captures the reader immediately and then holds on firmly as the story rolls out rather rapidly and with strong curiosity. I cannot offer anything to improve this work and thank this author for a fine read! HIS GRAYNESS; Vance
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Very appreciative of your sentiments. GRAYNESS. Thank you.
Comment from Zue65
You really do have a colorful and a dangerous life and the fact that you lived that long to tell about them, is something you must have been grateful to God. It just proved that God is with you all through those years that you are in bed with danger. Thanks for sharing this interesting slice of your life. All the best.
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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You really do have a colorful and a dangerous life and the fact that you lived that long to tell about them, is something you must have been grateful to God. It just proved that God is with you all through those years that you are in bed with danger. Thanks for sharing this interesting slice of your life. All the best.
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Thank you for these words of encouragement particularly those about gratitude to God. I wasn't a Christian at the time of writing (that happened about 5 years later- 40 years ago now). Looking back I can see how God was there- shaping, molding and refining me ( as he still does) . I suppose I wish that He had chosen less painful methods occasionally!!.
Comment from Meia (MESAYERS)
Yet on reflection my suffering pales in comparison to the fact that I lived to tell this tale and for that I am grateful. ' That is how I feel about my life and you have told a tale masterfully well here I enjoyed it immensely and it is superbly written, I will look out for your work in future kindest and warmest regards Meia xx
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Yet on reflection my suffering pales in comparison to the fact that I lived to tell this tale and for that I am grateful. ' That is how I feel about my life and you have told a tale masterfully well here I enjoyed it immensely and it is superbly written, I will look out for your work in future kindest and warmest regards Meia xx
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Thank you for your thoughtful comments Meia. I find it particularly encouraging when a story resonates with the reader's life as it seems to do have done here. Please feel free to keep in touch if you would like too.
Comment from Sugarray77
A very suspenseful tale that also had me quaking... not knowing if the character would be attacked or not. Very good writing. Also, I thought your description and inclusion of the different weapons fleshed out the tale and added color. Regards.
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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A very suspenseful tale that also had me quaking... not knowing if the character would be attacked or not. Very good writing. Also, I thought your description and inclusion of the different weapons fleshed out the tale and added color. Regards.
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Thank you for your encouraging comments. They are the fuel for my continuing writing journey.
Comment from Debbie Pope
You are quite a story teller, and with your background, I bet you have much to tell. This story is quite well written and exciting to read. I got confused at the beginning. I thought that it was the murderer who was cutting himself, but it appears that everyone who is sorry for the death takes part in the ritual. You might make that clearer because it is my favorite part of the story. I would not change another word, however. I feel compelled to ask if you intentionally left out commas. As an old English teacher, I have added commas below. I hope it does not offend you, but this is a contest, and you may have a winner here. Good luck in the competition and nice to meet you.
The eerie wailing blew with the desert winds across the indigenous community at Hooker Creek. As the sounds became louder and clearer, I pictured in my mind's eye what I knew to be happening. The wailing would be accompanied by the stripping of one's clothes and 'sorry' cutting. This ritual included hitting one's head with rocks, slashing one's thighs with knives, and generally inflicting pain upon yourself as a true sign that you were genuinely sorry for the death that had recently occurred. While the rite was primarily ceremonial, it was often taken to excess and serious injuries were inflicted. Already folk were gathering at the hospital for treatment with the deceased having been taken there just a little while before. I was the Superintendent of the community, and, as I arrived, two older men asked if they could take some of the deceased's hair for ceremonial purposes. The nursing sister had no objections, and so some was reverently taken.
It transpired the deceased was drunk and had been taunting a man called Jungurai about his lack of sexual prowess.
Eventually the taunting went too far, and a brawl developed during which time a sharpened nulla-nulla was produced with the deceased expiring immediately when the weapon smashed into his skull. The perpetrator Jungurai judged discretion to be the better part of valour at this point and disappeared into the bush, opting to stay there until emotions had cooled and sanity prevailed.
It had been a harrowing, sleepless night, and, as I walked towards the office the next day, I felt totally washed out with little desire to face any further drama. I dreamed of lounging beside a swimming pool, a cool can of Coke in hand, and total relaxation in mind.
Arriving at the office, my dreaming was interrupted when I saw Jungurai about 100 metres away, walking purposefully towards me with something in hands. As he got closer, I realized(spelling) he was carrying a coolamon basket full of a wide array of traditional weapons. I could see nulla-nullas, boomerangs, and murderous looking spears, and, at that moment, I see with perfect clarity what is going on. He is going to kill me! (two !s)
Time did not stand still at the moment, but it went awfully close. He was walking in slow motion, one deliberate step after another.
Every organ in my body designed to operate when I was afraid, working (tense change) in perfect unison at that moment. My right leg started to shake uncontrollably. I tried to light a cigarette but couldn't. My bladder screamed for release.
He started to get closer, and I noticed he smiled. Or was it a leer? Or a maniacal grin? Then, as if to confirm the sealing of my fate, I started to see a newsreel of my life rolling out before me. Nothing of any note was on it. Thought I to myself, 'What a boring 22 years I have lived. No controversies (except for a few cricket dismissals). Nothing spectacular done. Apart from my immediate family, who will miss me when I'm gone?'
He was getting even closer, and he started to audibly laugh. Or was it the devil's chuckle I heard?
My thoughts suddenly focused. spelling I will ask him, when he kills me, to make it quick. You did it last night to another so why not me? Then I thought I would like to die bravely. Therefore I shall do as Queen Victoria said, 'Close your eyes and think of England'. What could be nobler than that?
Jungurai stopped a nulla-nulla's length away. In an instant, I was back into reality. I looked at him, and he looked at me. With the cool zephyr breeze caressing my face, Jungurai blurted ' Maluka I surrender' and handed all his weapons over to me.
I had been saved by about a tenth of a second from making an absolute fool of myself because I was just about to ask him to kill me quickly. Instead, I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He stated that he was surrendering. On the outside, I now had control of the situation. On the inside, however, I was a gibbering mess. I asked him further why he had been laughing. He simply said that he was happy because he was safe. He knew that the white man would protect him, give him a fair trial, and maybe make him serve some time in jail. This was far preferable to what would happen to him under tribal law.
When I had him safely ensconced in the office in the care of other staff, I took one of the nulla-nullas (one without blood and bone on it) to a big tree behind the office. I then conjured up in my mind a picture of Jungurai and, particularly, of his head. Placing this image on the tree, I then proceeded to belt the daylights out of it. As I landed blows, I screamed abuse at him.
How dare you scare me like that? Surrendering when you were going to kill me. Smiling and laughing at me because you knew you (word insert) were safe. What about me? You're safe, and I'm the one who's the basket case. A pox upon you!! May your toenails grow eternally inward and never heal!! So it went on until I could lift the nulla-nulla no more. I then stopped and collapsed on the ground, crying like a baby.
I composed myself shortly afterwards and became the government official again. Organizing spelling three of the most trusted indigenous men in the community, we formed an armed escort and took the offender into Katherine. Eventually, he was sent to trial in Darwin and was sentenced to three years imprisonment after having been convicted of manslaughter.
And me? Over the years, I faced many of these stressful situations. They had a cumulative effect that eventually led to my suffering depression and its bedfellows. Yet, on reflection, my suffering pales in comparison to the fact that I lived to tell this tale, and for that, I am grateful.
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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You are quite a story teller, and with your background, I bet you have much to tell. This story is quite well written and exciting to read. I got confused at the beginning. I thought that it was the murderer who was cutting himself, but it appears that everyone who is sorry for the death takes part in the ritual. You might make that clearer because it is my favorite part of the story. I would not change another word, however. I feel compelled to ask if you intentionally left out commas. As an old English teacher, I have added commas below. I hope it does not offend you, but this is a contest, and you may have a winner here. Good luck in the competition and nice to meet you.
The eerie wailing blew with the desert winds across the indigenous community at Hooker Creek. As the sounds became louder and clearer, I pictured in my mind's eye what I knew to be happening. The wailing would be accompanied by the stripping of one's clothes and 'sorry' cutting. This ritual included hitting one's head with rocks, slashing one's thighs with knives, and generally inflicting pain upon yourself as a true sign that you were genuinely sorry for the death that had recently occurred. While the rite was primarily ceremonial, it was often taken to excess and serious injuries were inflicted. Already folk were gathering at the hospital for treatment with the deceased having been taken there just a little while before. I was the Superintendent of the community, and, as I arrived, two older men asked if they could take some of the deceased's hair for ceremonial purposes. The nursing sister had no objections, and so some was reverently taken.
It transpired the deceased was drunk and had been taunting a man called Jungurai about his lack of sexual prowess.
Eventually the taunting went too far, and a brawl developed during which time a sharpened nulla-nulla was produced with the deceased expiring immediately when the weapon smashed into his skull. The perpetrator Jungurai judged discretion to be the better part of valour at this point and disappeared into the bush, opting to stay there until emotions had cooled and sanity prevailed.
It had been a harrowing, sleepless night, and, as I walked towards the office the next day, I felt totally washed out with little desire to face any further drama. I dreamed of lounging beside a swimming pool, a cool can of Coke in hand, and total relaxation in mind.
Arriving at the office, my dreaming was interrupted when I saw Jungurai about 100 metres away, walking purposefully towards me with something in hands. As he got closer, I realized(spelling) he was carrying a coolamon basket full of a wide array of traditional weapons. I could see nulla-nullas, boomerangs, and murderous looking spears, and, at that moment, I see with perfect clarity what is going on. He is going to kill me! (two !s)
Time did not stand still at the moment, but it went awfully close. He was walking in slow motion, one deliberate step after another.
Every organ in my body designed to operate when I was afraid, working (tense change) in perfect unison at that moment. My right leg started to shake uncontrollably. I tried to light a cigarette but couldn't. My bladder screamed for release.
He started to get closer, and I noticed he smiled. Or was it a leer? Or a maniacal grin? Then, as if to confirm the sealing of my fate, I started to see a newsreel of my life rolling out before me. Nothing of any note was on it. Thought I to myself, 'What a boring 22 years I have lived. No controversies (except for a few cricket dismissals). Nothing spectacular done. Apart from my immediate family, who will miss me when I'm gone?'
He was getting even closer, and he started to audibly laugh. Or was it the devil's chuckle I heard?
My thoughts suddenly focused. spelling I will ask him, when he kills me, to make it quick. You did it last night to another so why not me? Then I thought I would like to die bravely. Therefore I shall do as Queen Victoria said, 'Close your eyes and think of England'. What could be nobler than that?
Jungurai stopped a nulla-nulla's length away. In an instant, I was back into reality. I looked at him, and he looked at me. With the cool zephyr breeze caressing my face, Jungurai blurted ' Maluka I surrender' and handed all his weapons over to me.
I had been saved by about a tenth of a second from making an absolute fool of myself because I was just about to ask him to kill me quickly. Instead, I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He stated that he was surrendering. On the outside, I now had control of the situation. On the inside, however, I was a gibbering mess. I asked him further why he had been laughing. He simply said that he was happy because he was safe. He knew that the white man would protect him, give him a fair trial, and maybe make him serve some time in jail. This was far preferable to what would happen to him under tribal law.
When I had him safely ensconced in the office in the care of other staff, I took one of the nulla-nullas (one without blood and bone on it) to a big tree behind the office. I then conjured up in my mind a picture of Jungurai and, particularly, of his head. Placing this image on the tree, I then proceeded to belt the daylights out of it. As I landed blows, I screamed abuse at him.
How dare you scare me like that? Surrendering when you were going to kill me. Smiling and laughing at me because you knew you (word insert) were safe. What about me? You're safe, and I'm the one who's the basket case. A pox upon you!! May your toenails grow eternally inward and never heal!! So it went on until I could lift the nulla-nulla no more. I then stopped and collapsed on the ground, crying like a baby.
I composed myself shortly afterwards and became the government official again. Organizing spelling three of the most trusted indigenous men in the community, we formed an armed escort and took the offender into Katherine. Eventually, he was sent to trial in Darwin and was sentenced to three years imprisonment after having been convicted of manslaughter.
And me? Over the years, I faced many of these stressful situations. They had a cumulative effect that eventually led to my suffering depression and its bedfellows. Yet, on reflection, my suffering pales in comparison to the fact that I lived to tell this tale, and for that, I am grateful.
Comment Written 06-Feb-2018
reply by the author on 08-Feb-2018
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Many thanks for your honest review. I certainly don't mind your revision-I think you have highlighted an area I need to address in this, and all future writing. For tvehat I am grateful ( but not as grateful as I am for still being alive)
