A lot longer than expected
The air is cold and clings to her like cobwebs under her jacket as they crunch over the gravel. Her boots start to wobble as they walk on in silence toward the soft grass. He looks across at her still face and lets out a little chuckle. “Thank you” he says it quietly and it seems to hang in the air in front of his lips, as if frozen there, unwilling to be tossed out and forgotten too quickly.
They walk along the little beaten path, travelling downward and away from the church.. The half broken, but still wear-able heel making on her left boot makes the already difficult slope near impossible to conquer. The sound of the gathering behind them fades as the sound of their footfall takes over. The miniature eucalypts either side of the path start to close in on the two and they are forced to move into single file. No words are exchanged; just observation of the beauty around them is what they both needed. The long weedy grass either side of the narrow path invades the bush, washing the ground with rich green. The winter battered eucalypts bare their exposed limbs; an intricate cacophony of grey trunks and glittering green leaves scatters the uneven land a head of them. Every now and then lichen covered granite boulders peep up above the lush grass line and add to the grey of the trees.
The fresh but cold air bites into her every time she moves, as if to remind her that this beauty is actually here. The air washes into her lungs and sends sharp tingles through her body as the cold takes over from the inside.
The path closes in again on the pair and turns into little more than an animal track. He sees it first and points it out to her silently pointing slightly to the right of the track. An old building barely standing, made of the same grey as the trees, covered in the same green that marches over the granite. A ramshackle hut, perhaps once part of the church from which they just came. The path opens up again at the front of the hut and they are able to stand side by side. They both look upon it with curiosity, both thinking of it’s past and what hidden secrets may have evolved in this place. A giggle escapes her lips and a smile takes over her face as her minds wanders onto less mature activities that may have taken place in this spot.
The hut is no larger than a bedroom, holes in the walls, a roof that is more open than it is closed and a sturdy door with a heavy lock, wide open. They walk in though the doorway and some small creature is scared awake and scurries off before either of them could have a proper peek at it. Children’s wooden chairs are piled in the corner furthest from the closed roof. The wood cracking and ‘peeling’ away from its metal frame is slowly invaded by the rust that has formed on the frame over the years. The strange discolouration of the walls hint at wallpaper or linoleum once covering them. The solid concrete floor of the small room is worn with both weather and time. Several cracks run through the room, all in a different direction, but never crossing one an other. A section of the only wall completely covered by the roof is painted a charcoal colour suggesting a makeshift ‘black board’. She walks toward it to study any remnant of drawing or words, not yet faded by time. Something shiny catches her eye in the corner and she bends down to look closer but stops abruptly and looks back up at her companion. Her hands rub at her dopey smile as a gentle giggle wanders from her mouth. Spider-web. Becoming distracted by this she forgets about the interesting glint she spotted only moments before she stands and nods at the young man. She’s ready to head back when he is. His gentle smile lights up his eyes and they head back up the track.
They are greeted by questioning looks and whispers as they enter the gathering once again, but no one dare ask where they went and why they were gone for so long.
In the corner of a little run-down hut a tiny heart shaped locket sits. Covered in dust and obscured by a pile of leaves it will sit and wait for some one truly deserving to find it.
They walk along the little beaten path, travelling downward and away from the church.. The half broken, but still wear-able heel making on her left boot makes the already difficult slope near impossible to conquer. The sound of the gathering behind them fades as the sound of their footfall takes over. The miniature eucalypts either side of the path start to close in on the two and they are forced to move into single file. No words are exchanged; just observation of the beauty around them is what they both needed. The long weedy grass either side of the narrow path invades the bush, washing the ground with rich green. The winter battered eucalypts bare their exposed limbs; an intricate cacophony of grey trunks and glittering green leaves scatters the uneven land a head of them. Every now and then lichen covered granite boulders peep up above the lush grass line and add to the grey of the trees.
The fresh but cold air bites into her every time she moves, as if to remind her that this beauty is actually here. The air washes into her lungs and sends sharp tingles through her body as the cold takes over from the inside.
The path closes in again on the pair and turns into little more than an animal track. He sees it first and points it out to her silently pointing slightly to the right of the track. An old building barely standing, made of the same grey as the trees, covered in the same green that marches over the granite. A ramshackle hut, perhaps once part of the church from which they just came. The path opens up again at the front of the hut and they are able to stand side by side. They both look upon it with curiosity, both thinking of it’s past and what hidden secrets may have evolved in this place. A giggle escapes her lips and a smile takes over her face as her minds wanders onto less mature activities that may have taken place in this spot.
The hut is no larger than a bedroom, holes in the walls, a roof that is more open than it is closed and a sturdy door with a heavy lock, wide open. They walk in though the doorway and some small creature is scared awake and scurries off before either of them could have a proper peek at it. Children’s wooden chairs are piled in the corner furthest from the closed roof. The wood cracking and ‘peeling’ away from its metal frame is slowly invaded by the rust that has formed on the frame over the years. The strange discolouration of the walls hint at wallpaper or linoleum once covering them. The solid concrete floor of the small room is worn with both weather and time. Several cracks run through the room, all in a different direction, but never crossing one an other. A section of the only wall completely covered by the roof is painted a charcoal colour suggesting a makeshift ‘black board’. She walks toward it to study any remnant of drawing or words, not yet faded by time. Something shiny catches her eye in the corner and she bends down to look closer but stops abruptly and looks back up at her companion. Her hands rub at her dopey smile as a gentle giggle wanders from her mouth. Spider-web. Becoming distracted by this she forgets about the interesting glint she spotted only moments before she stands and nods at the young man. She’s ready to head back when he is. His gentle smile lights up his eyes and they head back up the track.
They are greeted by questioning looks and whispers as they enter the gathering once again, but no one dare ask where they went and why they were gone for so long.
In the corner of a little run-down hut a tiny heart shaped locket sits. Covered in dust and obscured by a pile of leaves it will sit and wait for some one truly deserving to find it.