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MY BLOG: Every day for a year.
Day 126 ‘Something dwells at Hanging Rock’
At the foot of the famous Hanging Rock, was our family home. (The one I had previously tried to burn to the ground 🙂
) I’d become an avid explorer of the perfect child’s playground for
many years before becoming aware of the film, ‘Picnic at Hanging rock.’
I was, of course, intrigued to see my familiar surrounds on the silver
screen. The story of how three schoolgirls and their headmistress had
just disappeared from the face of the earth, was extremely enticing to
my ghoulish little mind. Not very far into the film, I could feel my
disappointment starting to spill over. The high pitched giggly girl
laughter, painful acting, and ridiculous storytelling left me
facepalming firmly enough to leave a print, but persevere I did 🙂
It went from bad to worse, but I had now seen it and that was all that
mattered. Very early the next morning, I set out with my trusty side
dog Timmy. (Yep, big Famous Five fan). Despite the film being fiction,
there were rumors aplenty of it having some basis in fact. My backpack
overflowing with the essentials, dog biscuits, rope, corpse shovels and
hessian bags for treasure transport, we were well prepared to uncover
the truth. I knew most of the regular tracks on the Rock like the back
of my hand, but we were going to have to push out the boundaries to
locate the notorious disappearance spot. It was eerily quiet, as the
orange sun peered over the Rock’s summit. It was far too early for
people to be about, and even the wildlife seemed unusually circumspect.
Surveying the topmost rocks, I planned my ascent. Attaching a rope to
Timmy’s collar, I pointed to our destination. ” Up you go,” pointing
again with a firm command. His head didn’t move, as his big brown eyes
looked upwards at Mount Doom. Locking eyes with me, he communicated his
disapproval in the strongest terms possible. “Oh come on….who’s a
good boy then, who wants a biscuit?” Tossing a baked treat to where I
wanted him to go, he grunted reluctantly and scrambled awkwardly up the
mountainside. I watched him disappear over the top as the taut rope he
was carrying suddenly went limp. “Timmy…….Tim!!! TIMMMYYY” I was
almost hysterical as his little black nose edged back into view. Tiny
projectiles toppled down in my direction with a degree of disdain, egged
on by his front paws. Drawing breath and allowing my racing heart to
settle, I issued Timmy with his next instruction. We had a game called
‘trip the tree.’ I’d crouch behind shrubbery and send him to an adjacent
tree, rock or anything solid with a thin rope attached, he’d go around
the tree and come back to me. The idea being to trip over my friends.
We can discuss my being a bit of a butthead at a later date, but it
proved to be excellent training for my pooch. With his ‘trip the tree’
in place, Timmy scrambled his way back down to me. We sat there a little
while, the loudness of our breathing seemed weirdly out of proportion
to the surrounds. The sun moved from orange to a fierce and glaring
yellow, like torchlight in the pitch black. Holding in my oxygen and
ears straining for the slightest sound, I wanted to hear something.
Anything! But more than quiet, it was silent. Hauling myself gruffly to
my feet, I spoke out loud to prove my bravery, “stupid film!”
Defenseless rocks lay precariously balanced on the steep mountainous
edge, and I kicked them forcefully over to display courage. Stupid film
or not, I had a deep sense of foreboding and dithered over to proceed or
retreat. Timmy had dozed off in the sun as he awaited ‘Penelope
Procrastination’ to make up her mind, when he suddenly sprang to all
fours, ears cocked and eyes staring up to destination ledge. Before I
could stop him, he was up and off, a low-end growl rumbled in warning as
he left me flat-footed in the dust. Anyone who has a dog knows it’s
not a dog, It’s your best mate. So flinging myself to the ropes I
bumped and scrapped my way to the top as fast as I was able, landing
scratched to pieces upon the plateau. Frantically getting to my feet,
my eyes squinted into the distance for any sign of Timmy. With the sun
beating down upon my face with unkind distraction, I became increasing
disorientated. Yelling into the silent abyss, I called over and over
for my faithful friend. Nothing. I was becoming more than a little
distressed and could feel the hot tears stinging my scratched up cheeks.
Trying to pull myself together, I stood still, intently listening and
staring into the void for any sign of life. A tiny sound started to
bubble up, like the white noise on your radio or TV. Inching closer to
the hum, I lightly stepped across the dusty ground, as if I was trying
to avoid waking someone. Inching ever closer, that hum evolved to a
terrible din. Everything in me wanted to run the other way, but I wasn’t
leaving without Timmy, so I kept going. What appeared to be a small
cave loomed at the end of the plateau, and I desperately hoped Timmy
would be in there. The noise had become so intolerable, I held my hands
firmly over my ears as I continued to press forward. The cave entrance
shimmered weirdly around the edges, like a watery reflection of the
ocean. Moving ever closer, I spied four brown and white feet, poised in
hunter position, statue still and unwavering. “Timmy!” I exclaimed in
utter relief. He didn’t flinch, remaining stock still and transfixed.
All sense of caution on my part was thrown to the wind, as I moved
hurriedly to secure my pup and head for home. My abruptness had a
startling impact on the cave, as the thick dark curtain I thought was a
hole, started to part and separate at rapid speed. The noise was now
apparent, a swarm of dark black flies piled multiple bodies deep, had
well and truly noticed my presence. The noise escalated into a high
pitched frenzy as they mobilised and headed straight for me. Beyond
horrified, I ran into them headlong to grab Timmy who was still refusing
to budge. Swooping him into my arms, I inhaled the most noxious of
smells I have ever come across, and it was only my fear of the killer
flies that stopped me wretching on the spot. Holding him in my arms
like some large fat baby, we started full steam back to the edge from
whence we came. I could feel the swarm in hot pursuit as we overbalanced
and skidded face first into the gnarly ground. The flies pounced on
ears and eyes, my hands wildly slapping any part of my flesh they
touched. Timmy’s teeth gnashed at the air as he tried to put our
assailants down. In all that trauma and scrambling back to the edge, it
would have taken something extraordinary for me to stop, but stop I did.
From behind me, I heard something. A lowly spoken, hushed but agitated
voice, hissed at me. “Go!”
I spun around quickly in response. There
was nothing but the plague wall of flies that seemed determined to
engulf us. Truly terrified, I grabbed Timmy by his collar and pushed
him back down the incline. As my fingertips grabbed the rope, I was
abruptly shoved forward, tumbling head over heels into a complete
blackout. Many hours later I awoke to the concerned face of the Hanging
Rock ranger. Timmy lay with his head across my stomach, as the ranger
continued wiping the blood from my forehead. “That’s quite a nasty fall
you’ve had there. What were you trying to do? Climb down the Rock face?”
As the memory of what happened returned, I rapidly began to explain to
him that there was something up there! “Up where?” he quired. “Up
there, over the peak where the ground becomes flat,” I replied with some
irritation. “It’s a straight drop from there, sweetheart. If you had
gone over that, there’d be no coming back.” Flabbergasted, I began to
indignantly explain to him he was wrong. “Look, I’ll show you!” But as I
began getting to my feet, the ranger firmly grabbed me by the arm.
“There will be no more of that today, time to get you home.” Still woozy
from the head knock, I was in no position to resist and resigned myself
to ‘another time.’
I never did find another time. It’s still
something that sits unresolved in the back of my mind. I either fell in
the first instance and just dreamed the rest, or that’s some weirdo
ranger lurking at Hanging rock 🙂
. I’m not one for the unresolved, and with a few days up my sleeve
right now, it might be time to find out. So stay tuned for part
two……..and if I miss a blog day, well…… “who ya gunna call?”
Until tomorrow!
Thank you for listening.
Stevie. x
