Short Stories 2024: Children of Dust

A gentle tapping, unnoticed against the hum of the television.

Slowly, they increased in number, but not nearly enough to gain the attention of your family inside the house. As the sporadic drops fell with rising frequency, the sound could easily be mistaken for part of the landscape's nightly symphony, performed exclusively after dusk in rural Australia.

Your family was sprawled across several lounges, eyes fixed on the glowing television, not speaking. The silence was comfortable, though you were keenly aware of The Big Stress still hanging in the air, even in these quiet moments. You lay on your side on the carpeted floor, hip beginning to ache.

You were unable to recall the time before The Big Stress had first taken hold, and it was now painted into every area of your young life. The parched landscape where you played. The dry, open stretches of land you loved to cast your eyes over, allowing yourself to feel small against the vastness of the open, blue skies - not a cloud in sight.

The gritty, dusty feeling in your teeth at the end of the school day, as the school bus trundled along dirt roads, windows open, trying to catch a cool breeze. A wall of red earth swelling on the horizon, drawing closer, as your family hurried indoors, placing rolled up towels across the gaps under the doors. And every evening, the frightening images on the news, with reports of another farmer having sought the reprieve of eternal sleep.

The Big Stress did not discriminate.

Some nights you had sat up in bed, peeking out through frayed curtains, surveying the moonlit paddocks. The brilliant blue sky from the day surrendered to the darkness of a night illuminated by the planets and stars hanging in the expanse above. It was breathtaking, and it was frightening.

You loved the thrill of those evenings when the storm clouds would roll in, casting the landscape into further darkness, until a bolt of lightning would split the sky, and for a second you could see almost as clearly as daylight. You would notice the little details - sheep huddled under a tree; your horse, tossing her head up high with each flash. You would hear the distant rumbles of thunder and, in your heart, beg the universe to release the rain it had been withholding.

Your silent plea was never enough, though. It was an enormous universe, beyond comprehension, over which you wielded no control. The very thought was suffocating. The Big Stress hovered near, threatening to swallow you up. You would close the curtains and turn away.

The scattered drops on the roof swelled, a great crescendo finally settling into a continuous drone. There was no missing it. The television fell silent, and you looked around to see your father sitting upright in his recliner chair, remote in hand.

His eyes, which moments ago had been heavy with sleep threatening to take over, were now open, alert. You could sense his anticipation as he strained his ears, not wanting to be mistaken.

"Is that rain?"

You all listened. With the television sounds gone, everyone's ears slowly tuned in to the whirring of the downpour.

You held your breath, watching as your mother crept across the room to open the curtains. The drops trickling down the window confirmed what you had all been hearing.

Her next sudden movement surprised you, and you watched with growing intrigue as she strode across the room, and out the back door. You exchanged glances with your younger brothers; a silent agreement was made. You all followed quickly behind.

The back door creaked shut as you ran after your mother. You followed her lead, bemused, as she made her way into the back yard, face turned towards the heavens, arms open wide as though in thankful prayer.

The rain cascaded down her tired face, dampening her clothes, but she gave a joyful shout and jumped around in a way that appeared youthful and free. For a moment you were apprehensive - confused by this sudden change, not used to spontaneity or unpredictability from her.

Her joy became infectious, and soon you adopted the same stance that she did; arms wide, spinning in circles, enjoying the feeling of the cool rain on your face, neck and arms. Laughter filled the air, and your brothers danced too. Around you, as the drops hit the ground, they would cause a small "puff!" of dust, quickly settled by the next falling drop.

Soon, the earth was damp enough that no more dust rose.

You weren't sure how long it had been, when the gleeful, childish shouts and merry dancing came to an abrupt halt. You looked up. The clouds had parted and moonlight shone through. It was as though for a wonderful moment, you had all been in a trance, but now the spell was broken as stillness and quiet settled in heavily. Silence was ringing in your ears, where the sound of rain had been echoing.

The laughter had gone. You felt The Big Stress creeping back through the darkness, where it had temporarily been lurking, hidden - separated from the place it occupied in your heart.

Without speaking, you all turned, and you noticed your father. He had been standing on the verandah, observing this short-lived moment of carefree ecstacy. It was difficult for you to read his expression, but when he spoke, his voice was steady as it cut through the stillness.

"Well... that'll settle the dust for the night."

In sombre silence, everyone made their way back inside, resuming their previous positions. The television's chatter filled the room again as you lay in your damp clothes, eyes forward. The magic was lost, and the evening returned to normal. The Big Stress held your heart tightly as you wrestled, fighting an unspoken battle against the hopelessness you felt would be your burden to carry forever.

The rain had gone.