After a bugger of a year a young man goes on a quest. Of course nothing goes quite the way it was supposed to… maybe.

The Non contest Chrissie Eve Challenge thing… Umm… If yer expectin' a serious Chrissie type story… well, best skip this one.

This is a work of adult fiction.
No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2007.

Rain!... Typical.

By Kristina.L.S.

He was the last. Thus ended the line of Tredinick, well on this godforsaken piece of dirt anyway. Fifty thousand acres of dust, that's what it was now. Fuckin' State Gov had stopped the water allocation because some multinational upstream needed it and they provided jobs after all. Must be a hundred or so instead of a Family of one silly old bugger chasing a dream. One silly old biddy, who still loved 'im even if she'd like ta beat his brains in with a frypan most nights.

Last... well that'd be me, the son. Pfft. Son, future of the line, Shit... pity I'd been on hormones for months now unbeknown... Family line, not bloody likely. Of course if ya multiply the family thing by twenty or so along the river line they almost met the numbers. But who gives a stuff about numbers or tradition or the bloody future. Not the bloody pollies, that's fer sure. Short term gain and donations, cynical little twerp aint I.

The sheep had been sold as pet food and the cattle went for a quarter value. Funny how the supermarket chain managed to get twenty times as much on the city shelves.

Ten years of drought had finally beaten his old man so he'd 'slipped' and fallen under the rotary hoe out in the west paddock. At least the useless piece of dirt had got a bit of moisture. What the bloody crows didn't get anyway. So much for the cattle feed.

Of course the old dear had taken it hard and while putting on the stoic women on the land face she'd actually turned into a silly old lush. If she wasn't pissed by lunchtime it was only 'cause the bloody grog delivery hadn't come yet. Didn't last a bloody year.

So here we are. The banks foreclosed and wonder of wonders the upstream Big Boys have made an offer. Seems they bought the water so have reason to believe they can make a go. Funny how that goes innit.

Me, well the names Bruce... leastways it was. I sort of prefer Sonia meself, Sonia Tredinick, has a nice ring don't ya reckon. Never could stand Bruce, way too bloody Monty Python for my liking. Nice enough twit he is.. but Sonia has 'im by the short and curlies if ya know what I means. Bruce is a dim bugger. No ambition and no bloody prospects now the olds 'as up and carked leavin' bloody nuthin. Christmas, oh yeah. Ho bloody Ho.

So here we is. Notice ta vacate an all, delivered by the local copper. Should a seen his face when Sonia opened the door. Nearly choked on the blowie he sucked in. Silly bastard. Still 'e managed to do 'is duty an' deliver the papers... insisted I sign Bruce. Said Sonia was not legal. I mean who gives a shit. It's all gone anyway.

So... two weeks later. Two bags plus a coupla 'undred litres a fuel in the back of the ol' Hilux Ute, three 'undred in the kitty and we's off ta see the wizard. Well that's the plan anyway.

See there's this ol' wives tale Abo legend like. Christmas Eve ya go ta the Rock and the Rainbow serpent will grant ya wish as the sun rises on Christmas day. Always thought it was complete bollocks. I mean what the hell significance has Christmas to a bunch a darkies tha' never 'eard a bloody Jesus or the Virgin or any o that crap.

Sure I mean if that's what ya's into, fine. Each ta their own an' all. Hell no dafter than bloody rainbow serpents that coughed up the universe or something'. Yeah Ok, there was a dude called Jesus and his Mum was Mary and 'is ol' man was Joseph oo later turned up as the founder of the Round Bloody Table or sumthin'. All depends oo ya listen to I guess. But then the daft believers will bring in talk a Songlines and interconnectin' lines a bloody power across the Earth. 'Course then they go off about the Druids and human sacrifice and rebirth and some place called Stone'edge... fuckin Mayans... all sorts a crap. Never could quite figure 'ow the bleedin' Druids or any a that lot figured in Abo dreamtime folklore. I mean they all sort of revolve around life and the Earth and basic human stuff. 'Allegory' some daft ol' Minister tried ta lay out one time. No one 'ad a blind clue what 'e wuz on about. Yeah well, it's birth and growth and struggle and if ya's lucky a bit a bloody sex along the way. Then ya die fer Christ sake. Crap, screw that. Any dipshit growin' up on tha land could tell ya that.

Anyways, that's the game plan. I mean shit. What 'ave I got ta bloody lose. 'Ere I am, a thousand bloody miles from nowhere and another bloody thousand to anywhere, homeless, no livin' relies... a few clothes and a coupla' hundred bucks. Shit... dreams is all I bloody got.

So, it's the Twenty Second… Twenty two 'undred kay's, huh, matchin' bloody numbers should go buy a bloody lottery ticket. So yeah Two Two and a coupla zeros, over two days and climb the damn thing and wait fer dawn. No worries Sonia me gal, easy peasy. Course yer not supposed to. Frowned on by tha Indigenous owners an' all. But hell, one skinny white chickie type guy person. Couldn't hurt nuthin'.
Damn... I'm tired. Well you try drivin' twenty two 'undred bloody kays in two days in this stinkin' bloody 'eat and see 'ow you feel. Still 'ere we are. Uloo-bloody —ru, or Ayers Rock, 'ooever 'e was. Some stupid bloody pommie explorer that starved ta bleedin death while the abo's looked on shakin their 'eads at these daft white fellas, most likely. So they names this lump a rock after 'im. 'Oo cares anyway. Then a course some soddin' PC wanker from Greenie 'Eaven decides that a Indigenous name is more bloody proper. So Ayers loses 'is bloody 'eadstone and some ol Abo git gets 'is name in the paper. Probly sold 'is story fer a packet an all. Then went an' got pissed and tossed in the hoosegow ta wind up dead with a broken bloody neck. Which a course gives the fuckin bleedin 'earts a cause celebrity ta play with. Death in custody and white fella coppers lookin at the noose. Figeratively speakin' a course. It's all a load a crap. I mean people is people isn't they??

Pity no one told all the bloody people that. That Hughie, one sense a bloody humour 'e 'as.

Now ... ere we bloody are. Well me. No other daft prick 'would be out 'ere. I mean 'ere we are in the middle of a bloody drought. Hasn't rained fer donkeys… fuckin' years. I think I read somewhere it rains on the rock about every twenty or so.

So 'ere's me. Plannin' on climbin' the damn lump and wait fer dawn… and what bloody 'appens. Yep! It fuckin' rains. Pisses down. Absolute bloody buckets. Even if I wanted ta drive off I couldn't the damn cars up ta the floor boards. Serves ya right fa parkin' in a damn hollow ya stupid prick. Well, who expected rain fer Christ sake! I mean every bloody twenty fuckin years… and it's not even fuckin due. Damn you Hughie, what'd this screwed up nineteen year old do ta piss you off then huh??

Course the only answer was a crash a bloody thunder and more fuckin' rain. What a bleedin' show off. 'Ad to admire the bastards sense a 'umour though.

Huh... Must a nodded off. Gotta be near dawn I figure there's a pinch a colour happenin' way over ta the East.

Then well.. I guess you had to be there.

Suddenly the sky was filled with this... Rainbow. A flickering mass of colour, all colours of the well… yes, of the Rainbow. The Rock itself, Uluru just sat there brooding as water ran in small rivers down the multifaceted Ochre face. But even that changed as the light shifted. Going from a non descript gray, to a dull purple then on to various shades of brown and red and blue and... it seemed the colours were more than possible. Even stranger the rainbow seemed to shift and flow, almost as though it were a snake, flicking across the cloud dunes of the sky.

It occurred to me that whatever troubles had been it was now Christmas day and that was supposedly a Holy day. It certainly felt wonderful to be here and now and smelling the rain and the lack of dust and watching the colours shift and flow on the rock and in the sky above.

Exactly how long... I have no idea. It truly could not have been more than an hour. Suddenly the sky was clear, that same pale throbbing blue that had been all the sky for years. But this day it seemed cleaner, with perhaps a touch of promise. A slightly different shade of blue, deeper somehow.

Well Hughie, lets see what this Christmas might bring. Soon it will be New Years and then... who knows...

Just sit and do it... or sat and did it... so if it's crap that's why. Just had to... ya know?