I guess to write a book you need some sort of imagination.
Imagination is something I have and have had since I was very little.
I was encouraged to have imagination – my Nana Parnell would tell me stories – stories that came from her head, without pictures or books. I had to guess what her characters looked like and think about what she was saying so I could imagine the setting. Often these stories would play in my head, like mini movies – I could see “Joe the Perentie, a big, lethargic goanna, walking slooowly along the bank of Todd River, before he flopped down to rest under the shade of a ghost gum.” Oh yeah, my Nana told The. Best. Stories. Ever! I miss her stories.
I can remember lying in my bed at night too scared to open the window because I was sure there was someone outside who would murder me. He’s coming for me! I would tell my despairing mother.
Yep. Bound to happen in a tiny town that has about five hundred people living in it. Good one, Fleur.
Anyway, I digress. Well not really. I have a thing about noises that go ‘bump in the night.’ I don’t like them.
This noise didn’t go bump, but went ‘Coo-hoooo. Coo-hoooo’ Now obviously living on a farm it is likely to be an owl or some kind of wildlife and yes, it sounded like an owl, but the point was I hadn’t HEARD it before. I didn’t like it because I hadn’t HEARD it before!
‘What is that?’ I asked one night after I’d listened to it for about the third night in a row.
‘Owl,’ the boss replied.
‘Doesn’t sound like an owl,’ I countered.
‘Owl,’ the boss said sternly, knowing my capability for turning a dog trotting down the path into a mob of cows thundering towards the house to eat us whole.
I didn’t believe him.
The next day I went searching and couldn’t find any evidence of an owl, anywhere. (Yes, yes. I can hear you saying it was day time… Not the point.)
Still wasn’t convinced it was an owl.
I kept searching – there had been heaps of pigeons bathing themselves in the sprinkler water and I saw one fly into a tea-tree. Then I heard the noise again – knew it wasn’t a bloody owl!
Baby birds at Fleur McDonald's farm
These two babies are what I found when I went searching and I’m CONVINCED it was their mum talking to the babies so THEY didn’t scared at night!
I so know that noise. Hear it all the time. As a kid I always heard imainary footsteps up the hall. Brrrrrr. *shudder*
This made me laugh. I am rather fearless. Unless a snake is involved. I was talking on the phone the other night and I heard a sound. A little sound. A not-even-certain-I-heard-anything. I turned towards the kitchen to and saw a black shadow moving across the floor towards the hall. A very strange sight. I thought to myself, “Hmm. That would make a wonderful story…” and then went back to my phone call.
I would’ve freaked out, Deb! Yep, Jen, I know what you’re saying!
I figured that it had something to do with the heater or some such. Our house is very friendly, and everyone feels that, when they come in. No sinister vibes at all.