Safe-T-Man
Greenie
It was just after 7 o’clock in the morning when I betook the journey to the Haunted House. Despite of the chilly wind, the day was forecast to be bright, hot and sunny. An hour or so into the trek I ventured off the path, only to come to an edge of a cliff below of which was a cave. The trail led through a wooded area, hidden from the scorching sun, so I was able to keep a reasonably fast pace. Coming to a flat area surrounded by limestone outcrops I knew that I wasn’t too far away from the “Haunted House”. Indeed, the ruins were within sight, just behind some dense vegetation. The house was built in the 1930’s by a fella named Clancy. It was a solid structure constructed from local limestone and timbers from a shipwreck. The bush and the elements were cruel to this house, and all that remained were parts of walls, doorways and window openings. Nothing of timber survived the fires.
This is where the eerie happenings began. Exploring the building I felt as though someone was watching me, watching my every step! Being interested in anything historical, I picked up a purple glass shard and put it on a brick from a chimney. Behind me something (or someone) big moved in the dense scrub, so I turned around and saw... nothing! “A kangaroo” I thought to myself, switched on the camera and turned back to photograph the shard. The brick was there... not the shard. “Where the hell is that shard?” I murmured to myself. And then my eyes came across it... it was there... right there, exactly where I found it before laying it on the brick.
A memory lapse, maybe. Leaving the shard where it was I continued my progress through the house. I was in the kitchen area photographing the stove when gast of strong wind came blowing between the outcrops. The door behind me shut with such a force that it made me jump. Only then it occurred to me... and I did not have to turn around. The hinges on which the door used to be were nearly all rusted away... long after the door turned to ashes in the 1960’s bushfires.
It was then when I decided to have a bit of a rest in a remote camping area which was only a couple hundred feet up the path from the “Haunted House”. Under a large eucalypt I set at a wooden camping table and drank plenty of water. I probably dozed off for a few minutes to an hour, maybe that’s why I didn’t hear him approach. It was a man, solid build but not of great hight. “This is not a good place to nap” he said cheerfully “too risky, it’s the bushfire season”. Seeing not much of a reaction coming from me he added “well, if you’re going to stay here, and notice some smoke, let me know, my hut is just over there” and he pointed in the direction of another path. Judging by his shirt, his pants, his boots, I would have sworn I’ve seen a ghost, but the direction in which he pointed was different to the direction of the “Haunted House”. “Alright” I answered in a shivery voice. The man began walking in the direction to which he pointed, but stopped abruptly, turned around and said “oh, today I lost my fork somewhere near my stone quarry, if you happen across it, just bring it to the hut”. What was so special about this fork... sentimental value? Stone quarry? Anyway, this was something that I was not supposed to be thinking about then. The mind was busy with all those questions, and when I looked up the man was already gone.
Having a few more sips of water I jumped on my feet and made a few quick steps up the path which was supposed to lead to the man’s hut. I have fair bush skills, but even to the nowise it would have been obvious that boots make imprints in the sand. “He could have gone a different way” I mumbled to myself. With eyes glued to the ground I was looking for fresh footprints, instead catching a glimpse of silverly object sticking out of the soft sand... it was a fork... it was HIS fork! Something was not right about it... yeah, it was your usual fork, but not a fork that you would find in a kitchen drawer of a modern home. I picked the fork up and turned it around, only to confirm my suspicions! It had EPNS (Electro-plated Nickel Silver) stamped on the back. They stopped making EPNS spoons in the 70’s when Japan made a switch to producing Stainless Steel cutlery.
Bedazzled, I just stood there with the fork in the hand. Surely, it was by pure chance that the man lost his fork and I just happened to come across a vintage one. This was it, and nothing more! “The quarry” I gasped as I looked at a limestone outcrop right in front of me... it was long overgrown. A chill ran down my spine.
Another couple of hundred of feet and I was back to the main path, away from that “house of ghosts”. Whatever happened there will stay with me forever. Even the sunshine became more intense as I stepped from the overgrown trail onto the path. An unusually sweet smell came with a light breeze. I looked in the direction of the coming wind and there it was... the man’s hut! It had a corrugated iron roof, wooden doors, glass windows... even an old enamel kettle was visible through the curtains and smoke coming out of the chimney. It was different in the construction to the “Haunted House” but had the same character to it, as though the same man build the both structures. I know that it was silly to think that, nonetheless, some similarities were present. Surely there was a logical explanation to all the happenings that came about only a short time ago.
I would’ve loved to give the fork (at least I found one!) to the man and have a yarn about the strange occurrences in the place, but no road or trail led to the hut. Dense bush and high grass were everywhere I looked, and going the few hundred feet through the undergrowth was inviting a snake bite. I have taken a couple of photos of the hut and set course back to civilisation.
It was a bit past noon when I returned back to the picnic grounds and the carpark. I was eager to get home and view all the photos of wildlife that I have taken: kangaroos, white-tailed black cockatoos, galahs, kookaburras and other magnificent animals. I remember it distinctly... the few photos that I have taken after photographing the fork I have found in the sand. They were of the man’s hut! I will not tell you a horror tale... a tale where the place of the hut appears empty on the photos. I will not tell you that, as it is not true. The horror is in the hut being there... in ruins... void of roof, windows and any signs of life!
Eucalypt woodland
The cave
The Haunted House
The stove
The fork
EPNS written on the fork
The fork out of the ground
Other side of the fork
The overgrown quarry
The man's hut
No sign of life
White-tailed Black Cockatoo chick
This is where the eerie happenings began. Exploring the building I felt as though someone was watching me, watching my every step! Being interested in anything historical, I picked up a purple glass shard and put it on a brick from a chimney. Behind me something (or someone) big moved in the dense scrub, so I turned around and saw... nothing! “A kangaroo” I thought to myself, switched on the camera and turned back to photograph the shard. The brick was there... not the shard. “Where the hell is that shard?” I murmured to myself. And then my eyes came across it... it was there... right there, exactly where I found it before laying it on the brick.
A memory lapse, maybe. Leaving the shard where it was I continued my progress through the house. I was in the kitchen area photographing the stove when gast of strong wind came blowing between the outcrops. The door behind me shut with such a force that it made me jump. Only then it occurred to me... and I did not have to turn around. The hinges on which the door used to be were nearly all rusted away... long after the door turned to ashes in the 1960’s bushfires.
It was then when I decided to have a bit of a rest in a remote camping area which was only a couple hundred feet up the path from the “Haunted House”. Under a large eucalypt I set at a wooden camping table and drank plenty of water. I probably dozed off for a few minutes to an hour, maybe that’s why I didn’t hear him approach. It was a man, solid build but not of great hight. “This is not a good place to nap” he said cheerfully “too risky, it’s the bushfire season”. Seeing not much of a reaction coming from me he added “well, if you’re going to stay here, and notice some smoke, let me know, my hut is just over there” and he pointed in the direction of another path. Judging by his shirt, his pants, his boots, I would have sworn I’ve seen a ghost, but the direction in which he pointed was different to the direction of the “Haunted House”. “Alright” I answered in a shivery voice. The man began walking in the direction to which he pointed, but stopped abruptly, turned around and said “oh, today I lost my fork somewhere near my stone quarry, if you happen across it, just bring it to the hut”. What was so special about this fork... sentimental value? Stone quarry? Anyway, this was something that I was not supposed to be thinking about then. The mind was busy with all those questions, and when I looked up the man was already gone.
Having a few more sips of water I jumped on my feet and made a few quick steps up the path which was supposed to lead to the man’s hut. I have fair bush skills, but even to the nowise it would have been obvious that boots make imprints in the sand. “He could have gone a different way” I mumbled to myself. With eyes glued to the ground I was looking for fresh footprints, instead catching a glimpse of silverly object sticking out of the soft sand... it was a fork... it was HIS fork! Something was not right about it... yeah, it was your usual fork, but not a fork that you would find in a kitchen drawer of a modern home. I picked the fork up and turned it around, only to confirm my suspicions! It had EPNS (Electro-plated Nickel Silver) stamped on the back. They stopped making EPNS spoons in the 70’s when Japan made a switch to producing Stainless Steel cutlery.
Bedazzled, I just stood there with the fork in the hand. Surely, it was by pure chance that the man lost his fork and I just happened to come across a vintage one. This was it, and nothing more! “The quarry” I gasped as I looked at a limestone outcrop right in front of me... it was long overgrown. A chill ran down my spine.
Another couple of hundred of feet and I was back to the main path, away from that “house of ghosts”. Whatever happened there will stay with me forever. Even the sunshine became more intense as I stepped from the overgrown trail onto the path. An unusually sweet smell came with a light breeze. I looked in the direction of the coming wind and there it was... the man’s hut! It had a corrugated iron roof, wooden doors, glass windows... even an old enamel kettle was visible through the curtains and smoke coming out of the chimney. It was different in the construction to the “Haunted House” but had the same character to it, as though the same man build the both structures. I know that it was silly to think that, nonetheless, some similarities were present. Surely there was a logical explanation to all the happenings that came about only a short time ago.
I would’ve loved to give the fork (at least I found one!) to the man and have a yarn about the strange occurrences in the place, but no road or trail led to the hut. Dense bush and high grass were everywhere I looked, and going the few hundred feet through the undergrowth was inviting a snake bite. I have taken a couple of photos of the hut and set course back to civilisation.
It was a bit past noon when I returned back to the picnic grounds and the carpark. I was eager to get home and view all the photos of wildlife that I have taken: kangaroos, white-tailed black cockatoos, galahs, kookaburras and other magnificent animals. I remember it distinctly... the few photos that I have taken after photographing the fork I have found in the sand. They were of the man’s hut! I will not tell you a horror tale... a tale where the place of the hut appears empty on the photos. I will not tell you that, as it is not true. The horror is in the hut being there... in ruins... void of roof, windows and any signs of life!
Eucalypt woodland
The cave
The Haunted House
The stove
The fork
EPNS written on the fork
The fork out of the ground
Other side of the fork
The overgrown quarry
The man's hut
No sign of life
White-tailed Black Cockatoo chick
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HH in 2010 
Just how hot was it? 
Can send ya some of me magic water Kuga lad, or you can come for a cuppa anyday 
