Dark Encounters

Chapter one: Introductions

My name is Julie Bennett, and I live on a massive farming property on the outskirts of a small sleepy town called Yarraman.

The farm sat on one side of the New England Highway and on the other used to sit a large pine forest. When I say used to, now it lay a graveyard of logs and branches.

The farm held acres and acres of land, mostly rocky outcrops and vegetation. We had cattle, and wild horses. Pigs, chickens and a stray peacock.

I am a tall 19-year-old girl with mostly all legs. When my uncle is in a good mood, he often says that I most resemble my mother. He says that I’ve inherited all her mannerisms, and I love it when we have those moments when I can think of her.

She had a familiar gait, when she walked and she always found something to smile at.

But most of all she was beautiful. My mother’s name is Patricia; she had high cheek bones and almond shaped, brilliant blue eyes. When I closed mine, I could see her smiling back at me.

The image changed then, and somehow, I stood back in that clearing. It’s not a big area and more in the shape of an oval. On the edge of my vision a sleek elusive figure kept darting in and out of everywhere. I know that deep down, that it’s something I must find.

Sighing I sank down on the seat of a picnic table, a table that my father had once built for me. Which now sat in the very center of this clearing.

When I was a small child my father died, the memory of it all is muddled and it felt like the mirror or reflection isn’t as clear as I’d like it to be.

The only thing I do remember is there being a car accident, and that it will be forever ingrained in my mind. Because I’d lost both my parents in the same night, my mother suffered horrific injuries which the doctors at the Toowoomba General had to induce her into a medically bound coma. To save her life.

I’d been perhaps four when this happened, and like I said, my memory looking back isn’t as clear as I’d want it to be. Because I couldn’t remember if my father was there or not. I only know that my mother, myself and someone else had been with me.

In a heartbeat my family had left me, leaving me in my uncles care. As I had no other family to turn to.

The sun shone down, warming the side of my face and I closed my eyes. Briefly enjoying the warmth, the sun had brought.

When I finally reopened them, a Willie-wagtail sat on the table top, watching me intently. Sometimes on a quiet day like this, I would take my sketch pad and a few pencils and make my way out to the picnic table. I really needed this peaceful quietness of it all, the chaos at home left me exhausted.

I began to sketch the bird, a feather out of place in his wing, a small twinkle in his eye.

The bird’s tail twitched slightly but he stood still and watched me draw him.

My attention now fully focused on my desired object in front of me and yes, I could also see the bushland from my peripheral vision. And I’m pretty sure I saw a shadow crossing that path, it was there and gone in a single heartbeat.

I snapped my head up, startling the bird. I spun in my seat looking all around me, but I just wasn’t quick enough.

Oh no, please not again.

I glanced at my watch, the only sound apart from my racing heart that I could hear. Thudding unevenly within my chest, my heavy breathing and of course the sound of my watch.

Damn it.

I hadn’t realised that it’d gotten so late and now Larry’s going to kill me. Larry is my uncles’s name and as much as he hates it, I call him that every chance I get.

Sighing I packed up my sketch pad and pencils, sliding them into my knapsack that I had bought with me. I stood, and walked away from the table and the clearing, I paused and looked back long enough to see the Willie-wagtail regarding me as I left.

Strange little bird, I thought.

Upon reaching the house I shoved my way through the front door; it’s always left open as it’s a huge property and there’s little to no chance of someone coming in and robbing the place.

I instinctively reached back and eased the screen door shut, Larry hates the smack of it when we rush in and out of the house.

The kitchen and the dining lay just inside of the front door, kitchen on the right and dining on the left. It then opened into a lounge room, a wood stove on the corner and a small phone table along the far side of the wall. A corridor ran from the lounge to the back of the house, where the three bedrooms and the bathroom resided.

The bathroom had just been renovated to include an indoor toilet, as the outer one lived in the laundry to the side of the house.

If asked for my opinion on the matter, it was much better inside than having to make a run for it in the dead of winter. As it gets uber cold here, like below zeros cold.

After dumping my knapsack into my room, I now stood in the middle of the kitchen. It wasn’t a big kitchen; it had benches and a small gas stove. I closed my eyes again, breathing in deeply, my mind whirring in thought. As I tried to come up with some sort of dinner plan. Once a plan came into existence, all that I really needed to do was open my eyes and get working. This became my daily routine, any I hadn’t really taken note of what I was doing, the sounds of the kitchen came to life as I started the meal.

Pots clashing, plates clinking and cutlery tinkling. And it left my mind free to wander, leaving my body on autopilot.

When I came back into focus, a meal had been prepared and laid out on the bench ready for the family. I had also whipped up some mousse for dessert and because no one was home yet, I quickly ate my share of the meal and dessert. I certainly didn’t want to be here when Larry got home with Kira and Betty.

I am not one of those people that automatically get nice families. Larry made it clear that I was not a part of this family and has made it his mission to use me as his own personal slave.

My chores are; cooking and cleaning, maintaining the property, feeding the animals. Especially the cattle as they are our source of income. We have stock yards on the property that have waiting cattle, ready to be tagged.

Hopefully the tagging will commence later in the week. By mid-morning I am usually off to school but because the school year has ended, I am no longer required to go. The never ending list of chores just keeps getting longer.

The only relief I have is that I don’t have to go to school anymore. When Larry is in a good mood, he’ll go out of his way to make nice remarks and help me with a few of those chores. Leaving me with spare time to sketch.

But it happened so rarely that it made me want to cry, I mean what had I done to deserve something like that?