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White body, wheels shining, dust flying. This is how it began. Sam Blake's new top of the range saloon pulls into Lunpona, he can see it now, tall factories, noisy equipment and more money then he dared think of.

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Introduction

An Australian Short Story. Draft 1. White body, wheels shining, dust flying. This is how it began. Sam Blake's new top of the range saloon pulls into Lunpona, he can see it now, tall factories, noisy equipment and more money then he dared think of. Only something stood in his way, the people of this dirty, foul, black tribe village. Far removed from his civilized western world these people lived in near squalor. He thought back to his wife and children in their palatial manor house on the outskirts of the city, if he could get this over with quick enough he would be back there inside a week. This was ingenious; instead of importing the wood for his highly successful furniture business he would 'harvest' natures already plentiful supply. His aim was to speak to the village elder or some such person, he wasn't all too familiar with this bizarre black man hierarchy obsession. He wanted these village people to become his employees - they would do his dirty work, dirty work for these dirty black bastards, they would cut down the trees, prime them, sort them, and ship them to him, and all for a pittance, it couldn't fail. ...read more.

Middle

rose. "Wait here." He said as he turned and walked out. Soon he returned, the look on his face said it all. "I'm sorry Mr. Blake, my people, they do not see sense in your deal." "What! You must be kidding me you stupid old black prick! You go and tell them again. This will go ahead whether they like it or not. You idiotic wogs should learn some sense" "How dare you? Get out of my bloody village now, you ignorant bastard!" With this Sam pulled out his gun, he always brought it with him when he came to places like this, he never did trust these types of people. Before he could think in his enraged state, he pointed the gun straight to the man's chest and loosed a bullet. With a deafening noise the bullet left the gun, and hit the man in the right side of his chest, he was knocked to the ground. As he struggled for breath, he spoke these words that cut through Sam like a razor blade; "You do not realize the full impact of your actions, ignorant white men such as you are careless and have no regard. ...read more.

Conclusion

The nearest hospital was 60km away at best, unless the hotel had any antidotes he was in trouble. After get over the initial pain he tried to get up and walk. But he couldn't his leg was swelling and the pain immense. He reached for his phone, and as he dialed the battery failed on him. He could hear the curse again, as if carried on the wind. He cried out for help in desperation. But nobody came. He was slipping in and out of consciousness. He looked at his watch, it was 45 minutes since he'd been bitten. He slipped out of consciousness for the last time. As if by some supernatural force the old mans voice echoed through his head; "Samuel Blake," it said, "you are suffering, not vengeance for my death alone, oh no, but for all the of the wrongs white man has done black man. Your corporate enterprises, and your money-making schemes don't belong in the bush. Keep them to your cities. Have your suburbia and be happy. You keep your 'civilized' lives, and we'll keep out ancestral traditions. May you learn a lesson with your life." With this he passed. A lesson indeed learnt. And financed by his own life. Anthony Whymark. 11T. Set 1. Miss Cannon ...read more.

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