#my town has a local aboriginal legend about a very tall man with big ears who’s self concious of them

[ofmermaidstories]

Not a prompt but just vibes to inspire?? I guess? inspired by the tropics of qld. the cities of sugar cane stretching as far as the eye can see, the warble of geckos in the warm night air, a snuffling and scratching in the heart of the roof while beady little eyes stare from the shadows (it’s just possums the locals tell you), a wetsuit shoved in your hands before you step in the refreshing salt water, your raw hands still remember the tough unyielding rope of the crab pots.

anon…………… who are you. how did you know. 👁👄👁 there’s a gecko in the room that’s chittering away to himself RIGHT NOW. sdjfhkjsdhfjk. they really do like to warble. 😭

Somewhere in the wet scrub beyond the shed, a bird caws.

You’d been standing by the counter, waiting as the kettle boiled, mug in hand; you glance up to the dark outside the window when it starts — but you can’t see anything save your own reflection.

“Everything’s so noisy here,” You say, offhandedly. The cicadas and other tiny, skittering life of the bush are rioting even as you speak, hidden among the undergrowth, safe from the bigger foragers. The rain earlier that day has brought them all out — set them loose and as you and Deku tried not to slip among the rocks, where you were trying to pull in the crab pots, the warm spray of the ocean soaking you both.

“It’s probably just a cassowary,” Deku says, hushed, not looking up from where he’s writing in his notebook. His towel is still around his shoulders — his curls dark from his shower. He’d been surprised by a tree frog, in there — you’d heard his surprised shout, the bang of him hitting the wall. When he emerged — still wet, a towel around his hips and a green frog in his hand — you’d twirled your fork in your instant noodles and tried not to laugh.

The bird caws again — it sounds closer, now, angrier. Deku pauses in his writing, his pen hovering over the page as he listens carefully, like he could pick apart the noise and write it down, note-for-note.

The kettle switches off, the water rumbling to a boil and you pick it up — pouring over the teabags you have in your cup, a trick your father taught you.

“It’s nothing,” Deku says, eventually, firmly. He’s done this the entire time you’ve been together, on this strange little road trip up the northern coast — the reassurer, the one that says it’s nothing, it’s okay. You’d believed him at first. He was gentle but strong, sweet — you’d found each other at a Backpacker’s in the city, teaming up since you wanted to see the same things; taking his little van, graffitied brightly. But this country was old — a burnt, yellow-green country with red earth and ancient trees and brown creeks and a people who were cheery enough, you guessed, but either didn’t seem to notice the strange things around them or just didn’t care.

You’d been on the fringes of a coastal city a few weeks before, having pulled over for a warm paper parcel of hot chips — thick cut fries with the grease seeping through, as you cradled it to yourself like a warm puppy. Deku had found a little lookout to park at, overlooking the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

“We might get to see some whales!” He’d said, excitedly, the wind making his loose shirt ripple around him — moving his hair. You’d sat under the shade of the gazebo, unrolling the chips free — more interested in eating. But his excitement was palpable — and like he’d manifested it, you’d seen the arching breakthrough of a pod of whales, down in the dark blue sea below — cresting to the surface.

His face had brightened — a broad, scarred hand gripping the wooden railing that separated him from the drop of the cliff below. “They’re magnificent,” He’d said, and you hummed an agreement — trying to shake the feeling that something was watching the two of you, though you were the only ones in this spot.

It wasn’t constant, but it happened enough. You’d parked alongside a field of sugarcane one night, the both of you too tired to keep driving — and when you woke up in the pastel twilight of morning Deku was awake, sitting up and staring out the window where the sugarcane rustled, like something had slipped away, moments before you came to.

He’d only smiled at you, in the gloom — his face open, trusting, still sleepy. You didn’t ask him what had been out there, if anything — he wouldn’t have told you anyway.

The farmer — an old, no-nonsense man that had you working with fruit packing; with his crab pots — had shown you to the refurbished shed when you finally arrived, sequestered amid the scrub of the property, giving you and Deku both a little privacy from the main house.

“Dinner’s at six every night,” He’d said, with a simple shrug. “If you wanna join us, that is. The Mrs puts on a decent feed, but you’ve got everything you’d need in here if ya don’t feel like dragging yourself up to the house. I recently got a bloke in to redo the hot water tanks, so everything should be in top condition — but it does get noisy as shit down here, at night. It shouldn’t bother ya much, though, and once you’re out cold you’re not gonna notice it.”

“Do you have a lot of animals out here?” You’d asked, curiously. It was a big space for just the two of you — with a open-plan living space and kitchen, a bathroom and toilet, and a couple of rooms where you and Deku could seperate and get some space.

The farmer - Robbie, he’d told you to call him - shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess as much. Some of the last kids we had working here chucked a wobbly about the racket — I don’t want you kids to feel unsafe, but I reckon it ain’t much. Probably just possums, the destructive little bastards.”

“Possums,” You echo, caught on his phrase chucked a wobbly.

Robbie shrugged again. “That or the Bindi-Bindi man.”

Deku, who’d been investigating the space curiously, looked at the farmer at that. “Bindi-Bindi man?” He asked, unsure.

The old man chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much. The local black fellas reckon he’s harmless, if he is out there — it’s just a story, mate. You know, to scare kids into behaving. Some leggy bastard who strides around the country at night, giving the dogs around here something to work themselves over. He’s meant to be shy as shit — you’ll spook him more than he spooks you, I promise.” He’d laughed to himself again like he was funny — and you’d ignored the chill that ran down your spine, though behind you Deku had started muttering furiously to himself, taking note of things he wanted to ask about.

Somewhere in the shed a gecko chitters loudly; complaining about your presence in his space. You snort and help yourself to a biscuit; a scotch finger, buttery and crumbly between your fingers as you snap it in half. Deku has gone back to writing in his book and you pour him a cup of tea, too — green tea, a stash he’s been carrying around with him, from home. It smells earthy; grassy and rich. You stir it, glancing up absentmindedly — to your reflection, in the dark glass.

Outside, in the limited light of the kitchen, you think you see something move, your skin prickling. Just the Bindi-Bindi man, you tell yourself. You focus on Deku’s cup instead, the frothy green of his tea — and don’t notice the reflection of the blond boy in the glass, or how Deku’s head jerks up, meeting his fierce gaze head on.