Encounter of a different kind
Posted: Fri Apr 29, 2011 9:45 pm
This memoire received a commended place in a short story comp last year.
Encounter of a different kind
I’m so damn bored, it’s like a trance, as if I am moving, but not getting
anywhere.This expanse just does not seem to end. On the left, bush as far as one can
see, on the right, again, bush as far as one can see, looking ahead, through the
windscreen of my truck, as it continues humming its melodious, monotonous tune, the
black line of bitumen accentuated with white painted ‘brush’ strokes, narrows then
disappears into the distant horizon, which leaves me wondering if the bloody thing is
actually reachable.
Beside me, my young, and, fairly new-to-the-game offsider, appears to be caught in
the same trance, as we continue to gaze into nothing. The occasional glance at each
other has been the only recognition we both exist in this cage of a cabin.
Simultaneously we squint and slightly lurch forward,
‘What is it?’ he says.
‘Don’t know,’ I say.
In this midday heat and brightness, distorted by the dancing heatwaves, a black spot
is visible in the distance and stands out like a single blob on an artist’s vivid white
canvas. Drawing closer we see it is a wild pig, a piglet in fact, whose life ended
quickly with the wrong timing to cross a highway. I thought ‘How unlucky, there’s
probably one vehicle maybe every half hour or so, and this little buggar cops it.’
‘Can I move it?’ my offsider says excitedly ‘I haven’t seen a feral pig up close.’
‘Sure,’ I said.
I stopped the truck in the middle of the road about three metres from the body. There
hasn’t been any vehicles for quite some time, so, I figured, this piglet was hit
by another truck some distance in front of us, also, there was no visible debris from a
car, and, although it is a ‘piglet’ it’s still quite big enough to do considerable damage
to an average car, I suggested he take a pair of pliers and clamp on one of the young
piglets ears to drag it from the road because of diseases these feral animals could
carry.
Like a happy child he sauntered up to the pig, grabbed hold, then, when lifting its
head slightly, I noticed that blood was still flowing from its wounds, and the body was
very flexible with no signs of rigor mortis yet, and as he started dragging the pig from
the road, he looked up at me with a huge ‘Cheshire cat’ like grin.
He proudly returned, bounded up into the truck, and once again we were on the move,
‘Wow! my first wild pig, that was awesome’.
‘I’m happy for you, but, did you happen to notice how very, very, fresh the body was,
and, did you think of where its mum was’
He turned a lighter shade of white when obviously thinking of what might have
happened, if the mother was still close by and attacked him, as wild pigs have been
known to do. He then looked into my eyes and said ‘you bastard’
I laughed……….we both laughed for hours.
David J Delaney
Encounter of a different kind
I’m so damn bored, it’s like a trance, as if I am moving, but not getting
anywhere.This expanse just does not seem to end. On the left, bush as far as one can
see, on the right, again, bush as far as one can see, looking ahead, through the
windscreen of my truck, as it continues humming its melodious, monotonous tune, the
black line of bitumen accentuated with white painted ‘brush’ strokes, narrows then
disappears into the distant horizon, which leaves me wondering if the bloody thing is
actually reachable.
Beside me, my young, and, fairly new-to-the-game offsider, appears to be caught in
the same trance, as we continue to gaze into nothing. The occasional glance at each
other has been the only recognition we both exist in this cage of a cabin.
Simultaneously we squint and slightly lurch forward,
‘What is it?’ he says.
‘Don’t know,’ I say.
In this midday heat and brightness, distorted by the dancing heatwaves, a black spot
is visible in the distance and stands out like a single blob on an artist’s vivid white
canvas. Drawing closer we see it is a wild pig, a piglet in fact, whose life ended
quickly with the wrong timing to cross a highway. I thought ‘How unlucky, there’s
probably one vehicle maybe every half hour or so, and this little buggar cops it.’
‘Can I move it?’ my offsider says excitedly ‘I haven’t seen a feral pig up close.’
‘Sure,’ I said.
I stopped the truck in the middle of the road about three metres from the body. There
hasn’t been any vehicles for quite some time, so, I figured, this piglet was hit
by another truck some distance in front of us, also, there was no visible debris from a
car, and, although it is a ‘piglet’ it’s still quite big enough to do considerable damage
to an average car, I suggested he take a pair of pliers and clamp on one of the young
piglets ears to drag it from the road because of diseases these feral animals could
carry.
Like a happy child he sauntered up to the pig, grabbed hold, then, when lifting its
head slightly, I noticed that blood was still flowing from its wounds, and the body was
very flexible with no signs of rigor mortis yet, and as he started dragging the pig from
the road, he looked up at me with a huge ‘Cheshire cat’ like grin.
He proudly returned, bounded up into the truck, and once again we were on the move,
‘Wow! my first wild pig, that was awesome’.
‘I’m happy for you, but, did you happen to notice how very, very, fresh the body was,
and, did you think of where its mum was’
He turned a lighter shade of white when obviously thinking of what might have
happened, if the mother was still close by and attacked him, as wild pigs have been
known to do. He then looked into my eyes and said ‘you bastard’
I laughed……….we both laughed for hours.
David J Delaney
