By Rosie Dear, aged 16

The same rust that smothered the land, that stretched beyond the horizon devouring the earth around it like a starved jackal, was now cradling life in the palm of its hand. The local fauna was comprised of thick, twisted pillars covered in thorns bearing few leaves and smooth, pale, poles with thin leaves that hung like hair and an aroma that lingered in the air. Koalas hung off the latter, lazily gnawing down the foliage as they embraced the warmth and brightness of the midday sun. Patches of crimson and maroon decorated the otherwise drab branches, their petals alluring the bees that droned around.

 Slumbering, these wooden giants were curtains to the sun, providing to all those underneath them the much-required shade. Resting under the canopy, a group of aboriginals and their makeshift shelters. Chatter amongst us was not idle, and soon drums pattered as didgeridoos howled alongside them. The tune weaved a tapestry with a millennia of history encasing it, preserving it, and yet the robust sound was in parts hollow, hiding years of pain and prejudice. Not long after the song had started, it ended. The emptiness of the land echoed back onto us leaving only the memories of the song and the rigid whip of the wind to fill the gap that the absence of melodies had left behind.

Drowsily, the individuals rose from their thrones of rust, moving on from their home of three nights. Reflective, white body paint permitted their nomadic lifestyle, protection from the zealous glare of the sun. I was offered traditional bush bread made from wattleseeds before the journey; the subtle roasted flavours coaxingly poked through the otherwise unremarkable, grainy, texture. Soon, we began to solemnly proceed to our destination.

The much required energy from my rations carried me through the ceaselessly monotonous wasteland, a place in which time was irrelevant and the hierarchy of animals, immaterial. Marching, a single cassowary strode alongside us, its’ feathers plumed onyx and its’ neck sapphire and ruby; he held his head high- a king amongst birds, solemn and alone on his journey. Despite this, these kings are merely animals, struggling for survival until the next beast that comes along proves stronger and more worthy of life. 

We marched forth.

In the distance, a silhouette of civilization enticed travellers and merchants with the rich perfume of opportunity. The clang of metals banged against one another propagating from the forges. Streams of people poured out onto the roads of this quaint mining town to try and catch a glimpse of the rare visitors. After a chat between the stout mayor of the town and the nomadic tribe, they proceeded to trade with the aboriginals for leathers and medicinal herbs whose silky aromas brought crowds rushing towards the freshly made celebrities. Begrudgingly, the mayor watched as his town’s wealth was being traded for foraged medicines and hunted beasts. Alas, the people knew that these were the products of hard labour and that their value was not to be defaced.

 Clanging, the peal of bells foretold of a mass in the gleaming white shack that played the role of a chapel. The kirk could hold around a few dozen people; all those who had time to be religious. The cleric’s voice boomed across the room, preaching the words of god to the congregation, their eyes shimmering with pride and hope, contrasting the wilderness they called their home.

A group of young men loitered outside the church; thin wisps of smoke mimicked spider’s silk from cigarettes that the group had bought from a rare shipment a few weeks ago. Their faces were blackened from the soot of the fuming furnaces and hardened from the desolate mines. Scars ran along their bodies and faces as though they were detailing a map — there had been a mine collapse not long ago and their pack had diminished.

Without any notice, a mob of kangaroo sprang through the town. The people were still fascinated with these creatures despite their familiarity and so the second parade of the day began. Hordes of people lined the main street to see beasts bounding past: children giggled, the elderly cackled, and men and women alike gaped in awe. One of the younger marsupials took interest in the clatter of the town and he tenderly sniffed the air, inhaling the appealing aromas around him. Before long he took notice of the crowd, thumped one foot on the arenose floor and ricocheted after the rest of his group. Copper grime followed the bounding animals, leaving a wake of sputtering and coughing behind them, but time moved on and soon, the dust settled.