41 The Spirit of Dulcie

[Stephen Whiteside]

41 The Spirit of Dulcie

© Stephen Whiteside 23.11.2011

Horatio and Magnifico were stunned. The kookaburra was gone before they could do anything - not that there was anything they could have done.

He can’t do that!

He’s just done it.

But that’s our Dulcie! He’s eaten our Dulcie! Does he realise what he’s done?



That’s the way of the wild. The quick and the dead. And one person’s dead friend is somebody else’s breakfast. Get over it, Horatio.

But it’s not right. She deserved a decent burial. I was starting to plan it all in my head.

Damselflies don’t need burials, Horatio. That’s your civilised voice speaking. It’s not the way of the wild. Maybe you should be grateful that even in death she remained useful. Her body was not wasted. It contributed to the grand life cycle.

The grand life cycle? Horatio snorted. She contributed to that greedy kookaburra’s breakfast, that’s what she did! Nothing grand about that!

And why not? That kookaburra has as much right to eat as anybody else.

How can you be talking like this, Magnifico? She was our friend, and now she’s been eaten.

I don’t particularly like it, Horatio, but I do understand that that is the way of things. There is no point in railing against it. You and I will die one day, and we will very likely be eaten, too. And the animal that eats us one day will also die and be eaten, too. Let us just hope that we are eaten AFTER we die, and that being eaten is not the CAUSE of our death! I don’t care what happens to me after I die, anyway. Why should I? I care about what happens to me while I’m alive, but not after I die. That’s the whole thing about life. It matters. Once you are no longer alive, nothing matters. That’s the point, Horatio.

I can see what you are saying, Magnifico, but I still don’t like it.

I’m not saying I like it either. I don’t. All I’m saying is get used to it. Neither of us can change it. And in our hearts we both knew that, once we had left the safety and security of our homes, that was the deal. So don’t pretend otherwise. Don’t deceive yourself.

Horatio was silent. This had been a distressing but interesting conversation. They had been on the verge of breaking out in open argument at several stages. And yet they hadn’t. They were destabilised, of course, by the sudden, unexpected death of their dear friend, and yet something else was also stabilising them. Something was holding them back from the brink. What was it? There was something they couldn’t quite put their finger on that seemed to be watching over them. It was as though, even though they were quite alone once more, they were no longer alone. Not exactly alone. It wasn’t quite the same as before, even though they felt, somehow, it should be. Hadn’t Dulcie said something about this to them before she died? It was all very confusing. So much had happened so quickly.

Horatio and Magnifico shook their heads a little dazedly. There was so much to do. Already the sun had climbed considerably in the sky, and they had not had any breakfast yet. And another long day of travel awaited them. It was time to get going.

[r.magnay]

G'day Stephen,
I'm not sure why I started reading these stories and even more baffled why am enjoying them!.......got any shrinks amongst your peers that might like to have a word with me?.......only joking, maybe it is just the simple fact that it is just good writing with no blood and guts....very easy to read. I am reluctant to go back and look at some of the earlier ones, it would be a bit like reading the last few pages of a book first, but I will keep reading the new ones.

[Stephen Whiteside]

Good on you, Ross. Thank you for your encouraging words. After thirty years or so of writing poetry, I've decided to have a crack at writing prose. I set myself the task of writing 1,000 words a day, Monday to Friday. It's just a matter of getting up an hour earlier every morning. (Just...!) The subject matter could be whatever I liked - no demographic to aim for, no word limit. I also liked the idea of 'publishing' each chapter as I went, rather like the old way that Charles Dickens used to work - not that I'm comparing myself with him. I also like the idea of 'falling off a cliff' anew every morning. I only have 24 hours to work out the next chapter, and most of the storytelling simply happens as I write it. I figure the only way to work out how to be a writer is to write, so that's what I'm trying to do. I also want to get a sense of what it feels like to write, say, 50,000 words. I've noticed the number of 'hits' has dropped off since the early days, but I can't afford to worry about that. All I can do is try to entertain myself, and hope it works for some others as well along the way. It does get a bit lonely at times. Maureen has been posting encouraging comments from time to time, and it's nice to hear from you also.

It's going to be interesting to see how our little rodents battle on without their remarkable friend.

[r.magnay]

don't be put off by the lack of hits Stephen, I have been ...dare I say, 'too busy' to be very active on the site lately, and no doubt many of us are in the same boat. I will try and make a bit more time to read stuff but don't be dissapointed if I don't comment every time! I can't say that the story actually gets me in, just that the writing flows and is easy to read.....keep at it, I promise I will be reading more of them from here on in!

PS. I have started reading some of the earlier ones as well just by the way!