Home   International Poetry Fiction Non-fiction
© Copyright 2003-2009 K S Mulholland  
 

BlackEagle Girls
and The Quest to See

Chapter 9 - What do you believe in?
Isn't one go-round enough?

Harry. What do I do? I haven't seen enough to be sure. You shielded Moni and me from what happened. How can we find out? I have to know what happened? I just can't bring myself to believe that our Mother suddenly went crazy, wrote a suicide note and rode off leaving us alone like that.'

'Yeah, sure, seems really strange,' said Harry, perched on the end of the bed with the morning sunlight spilling in on him, 'but humans have been known to do strange, terrible, unpredictable things on the spur of the moment. Fine line between genius and madness so it's said, by humans. You're all very fragile and vulnerable and driven and you have this theory of Free Will even when a lot of you guys believe in a Higher Authority that created you and everything else. And for some reason a lot of you think there's more to life than just being born, living and dying. Like you all get another go-round in a much nicer place than this.'

'Well don't you believe in that?'

'Why would I? Isn't one go-round enough, whether you're a big old sea turtle, a stately oak or an unpredictable carnivore? Man is the only earthly animal that thinks in the abstract. All the rest get by without the fan-fare and mostly do much better. Man says, "I think, therefore I am." The others just get on with it.'

'But there's got to be a reason why everything exists. Otherwise it doesn't make any sense. It's against the rules.'

'What rules? Who makes the rules? God? Whose God? Lots of gods and maybe some goddesses too. Or maybe just people: priests, ministers, popes; all just human beings. Fallible human beings. And who says there has to be rules? And who says there has to be a reason why everything exists, why it might some time not exist, why there should be sense, or nonsense? Who shows and tells? Religions? All made by Man. Yes, the scriptures of most religions tell you that there was divine intervention. Want to believe that? Fine. Go, do. Me? I don't go do.

The reason why everything exists is because it can, it happened, it's still happening, it can happen again. There are no rules. The theory of the Big Bang is just a theory. It is all just random, and the big issues, those of the galaxies and universes beyond belief, are not and will never be concerned with the microscopic grain of sand that you call Earth. You people living on this tiny, distant ball have such a grand vision of yourselves...and you are nothing in regard to the galaxy and all the universes that are endless. Think about this; if you could send a signal from right where you're standing straight up from your head it would go on forever, through asteroids, moons, planets, on and on into outer space and beyond. Now think about that same signal multiplied by three hundred and sixty degrees by all the possible combinations, radiating out in every direction all through space, going into infinity. Infinity. Think about infinity. Never ending, endless, forever. And not only into the future, but back into the past, in every direction. Endless time, endless space. Endless Big Bangs, galaxies, universes.'

Harry rubbed at his face and ear, then broke into a serious scratch, stuttering out between his exertions: 'Now snap... out of it and... concentrate on an... infinitesimal problem that concerns... infinitesimal human beings. Their names... you already know. Their problem you already know... In the Big... Picture of their lives, compared to... the Big Picture of the world, of... the Universe, of infinite space... what is important, what counts, what... result do you want?'

Priscilla wiped at her eyes. 'I want my Dad and I want my Mum, and I want my Mum to really be my Mum... Except that can't ever happen. Mother's gone.. She was only there for me... for Henry and me, for such a short time. Our blood, our genes, our minds are all that connects us to her... And her words, what she wrote, that she did write, that she was a writer! That with her words, her writings, she was the inspiration for me. Her diary of thoughts are like mine. I think... I'm guessing... hoping that she wanted to capture lots of little bits of what she experienced: the sky in summer, flowers in spring time, iced puddles in the cold times, leaves swept away on autumn's breezes, her own life, her new children... Her secret fears...'

'Her new children. And why would she just abandon them? What would cause her to do such a thing?'

'Well... well I... can't... don't... maybe she didn't want us any... '

'Don't be stupid!' Harry growled. 'She was your mother! You saw how she was with you.'

'But the suicide note? Everyone is certain she wrote it.'

'Yep! That's tricky sure, so maybe just accept it and try to get on with your life... '

'You don't mean that... do you Harry?'

'The place is still there.'

'The place? The old farm-house? How do you know?'

'There are plenty of ways to find out, but I have my own ways. It's still there.'

'And the shed where she hid her diary?'

'Would we be going down this garden path if it wasn't?'

'Is the diary still there?'

'That I can't tell you. It might be. Your mother seems to have put it somewhere out of sight with the intention of writing in it again. But she never got the chance... or never wanted to.'

'The... suicide note must have been the last thing she wrote.'

'Wonder where that might be?' said Harry, gazing out the window at the great tree, all its leaves turning and glowing in the sunshine. A magpie flapped into the foliage and began to warble.

'Police files or somewhere, I suppose,' Priscilla replied deflated.

'Might be worth reading what your Mum said. Doesn't have to be the actual note.'

'I don't know if I could bear to read the... her last words Harry. Dad could probably tell me, or maybe Gran. Does it matter?'

'Not as much as what her diary might tell you.'

'Maybe, just maybe do you think, it might still be there?'

'School holidays coming soon. Remember Belinda's standing invitation to her Dad's properties? One is not very far from the mountains. You've got time to organise the BEG girls in real time. Can't fool around with the past, but you can certainly dig into the present. You know roughly where Loretta hid it. When the time comes, go fetch!'

 

Chapter 10 next

Australian Page email your comments to the author Exchange critiques on the Lit-Talk board