THE BELDAME

In the reception area of the Dorset Hotel in Duchess Lane, LePage, in the Victorian countryside, George Mulberry, the proprietor, a tall muscular man, looking more like a wrestler than a hotel owner, was down on his hands and knees delicately painting the skirting boards around the base of the walls. A lifelong West Coast Eagles fan in the Australian Football League, George had had the reception area painted a few years ago, however, the painter had left out the white, leaving the area just blue and yellow. Finally, George decided to fix the error and bought some white paint to add to create West Coast's blue, white, and yellow colour scheme.

"How's it going, Picasso?" asked Annette Mulberry, his beautiful forty-something redheaded wife coming from the dining area.

"I like to think of myself more as van Gough," teased George: "My beautiful chestalicious angel."

"I'm sure you won't find chestalicious in any dictionary."

"What about boobalicious? Or hooteracious?"

"I'm sorry I asked," said Annette, heading back toward the dining area. She stopped just short of the door and added:"You know there are plenty of other things you could be doing around the hotel?"

"But nothing as important as this, my angel. I'll get around to the other things after the celebration to my beloved West Coast is finished."

"Men and their football," said Annette, heading back toward the dining room.

"I also like cricket," he called after her.

He was just finishing up the skirting boards when the grey-haired old lady walked into the reception area, pulling a large suitcase on wheels.

"Hello, can I help you?" said George, standing at the sound of the bell over the door ting-a-linging.

"Yes, I am Bella Damesby," she said: "I have a reservation for two weeks."

"That's right, but we weren't expecting you till tomorrow."

"I was able to get here a day early. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," said George. He walked across to the reception area, turned the laptop around so that he could check her in, and then said: "Do you need help with your luggage."

"No, I can manage," she replied, following him across to the silver-doored elevator.


Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they were just settling down to lunch.

"We're going down to the bowling alley in BeauLarkin for a few frames after tea tonight, Sheils," said Tommy Turner. A recent retiree, Tommy was short, and pudgy, with short yellow hair. He was a reforming alcoholic; due to Deidre confiscating his stash and doling drinks out to him, one per meal: "We wondered if you'd like to come too?"

"Who's we're?"

"All of us," said Deidre Morton. The owner of the Yellow House, she was obsessed with the colour yellow and was up to Michelin Star Chef standards as a cook.

"It should be fun," said Natasha Lipzing. A tall, thin, grey-haired lady of seventy, who had spent the last thirty-five years at the Yellow House.

"Well, I'd like to," said Sheila Bennett. A thirty-something Goth chick with orange-and-black striped hair; the second-top cop in the BeauLarkin to Willamby district of the Victorian countryside: "But you know what they say: Six is company; seven's a crowd."

"That's a very specific saying," said Terri Scott. Like Sheila, the ash blonde was thirty-five; and was the top cop of the local area and Sheila and Colin's boss. As well as being engaged to Colin.

"Yeah, have you got another reason not to want to go?" asked Freddy Kingston. Also a recent retiree, Freddy was tall and plumpish, and bald, other than a Larry Fine-style ruff of curly black hair.

"If you must know, I've got a date."

"Who you?" asked Colin Klein. The forty-eight-year-old redhead had been a top London Crime reporter for thirty years, until retiring to the Victorian countryside to work for the Glen Hartwell Police Force.

"I've had dates before!" insisted Sheila.

"Not since you were thirteen," protested Terri.

"That's rubbish, I had a date last year ... I think? Or was it 2022?"

"It's been light years," said Terri.

"Actually, honey, light years is a measure of distance not time," corrected Colin.

"Thank you for pointing that out ... honey," said Terri sounding irritated.

"If you nosey Parkers must know," said Sheila: "I'm going out with Derek."

"Derek Armstrong?" asked Deidre Morton.

"Why not? He's a nice bloke, we're close friends, and we spend most Saturdays together at the Muscle-Up Gym in Glen Hartwell."

"Isn't he nearly fifty?" asked Natasha.

"So? Colin is pushing forty-nine, and Terri is the same age as me. I know because we went to school together since kinda. I used to punch up boys who cheeked her."

"That's true," said Terri: "Even as a three-year-old Sheils didn't put up with any nonsense from anyone. Boys, grizzly bears, you name it ... she fought them all."

"So no bowling tonight, Sheils?" said Tommy.

"I'm not sure, actually. We haven't decided where we're going yet ... We might meet you down in the Beau later on ... Or maybe not!"


"Coming in to watch TV with us?" asked Annette Mulberry after tea that night.

"No thank you," said Bella Damesby: "I'm tired after a long journey. I think I'll retire early tonight."

"Well, have a good night," said the redhead, as Bella walked across to the elevator to start up to her storey.


Inside the paisley-coloured bedroom, Bella made sure that the bedroom door was locked, and the large double window was wide open. Then she undressed and began chanting in some near-forgotten language as she smeared yellowy paste, which smelt of honey and lemon, all over herself.

Slowly she began whirling around counter-clockwise until she began transforming, slowly changing shape until she was no longer even vaguely human. Instead, she resembled some form of oversized mosquito-like insect. Then as she continued chanting, she slowly reduced in size until she was no bigger than a large dragonfly.

No longer chanting, but rather buzzing, she flapped her gossamer wings rapidly and flew out into the night to seek out victims.


At the yellow house, the others had just departed, when there came a knocking at the door.

"Strong Arm," said Sheila, throwing her arms around the black man's neck, greeting him more enthusiastically than she had intended.

Blushing from embarrassment, Derek asked: "So what do you want to do, Sheils? I'm as unfamiliar with this dating game as you are."

"I've been on dates," said Sheila, but less insistently than before: "The gang has headed down to the Kennedy Street Bowl in BeauLarkin. Wanna join them?"

"That's a two-hour drive."

"Not the way I drive."

"Couldn't we just snuggle on the sofa, when we've got the house to ourselves?"

"Or better yet," said Sheila: "We could snuggle on the sofa while watching the 'World's Stupidest Stuntman'. I've got the whole series, except for 'Stupidest Stuntman Down Under' which they haven't finished filming yet."

"You just missed out on being on that didn't you?"

"Yeah, I missed out to a blonde bombshell with a Pamela Anderson chest and a Bianca Censori arse ... what hope did I have?

"Oh well, we would've missed you, if you'd been away for months."

"Ah, that's sweet," said Sheila, deciding that maybe they didn't need to watch TV to snuggle on the sofa.


Bella flew through the twilight sky, buzzing away, scanning the forest below for any sign of a suitable victim.

Finally, she spotted a young courting couple walking hand-in-hand through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest.

"Ah, come on, Lindsay, how would you feel if I died in combat without us having consummated our love?" asked a tall gangly redheaded youth.

"Tom, you've just joined the army reserves, and you're only going away to Puckapunyal for two weeks boot camp," said Lindsay, a fashionably anorexic brunette teen: "Unless you get gored by a rogue emu, you're not about to get killed."

"You know how to take all the fun out of begging for sex," said the redheaded young man.

Laughing despite herself, Lindsay finally relented and started taking off her clothes: "But if it suddenly starts pouring rain."

"It won't," assured Tom, taking off his jeans and T-shirt.

Naughty, naughty! thought Bella: She looks underage.

So busy were the two teenagers exploring each other's bodies, then coupling, that they did not notice the oversized mosquito heading toward them. However, Tom sure felt it as it stung his backside.

"Jesus," he cried, stopping in mid-thrust.

"What's wrong?" asked Lindsay as Bella flew up to the safety of a nearby pine tree to watch the fun.

"Something just stung me. Jesus, it's sore!" he said, stopping to rub his backside with one hand.

"Are you gonna be...?" said the brunette as Tom started to shudder with increasing furiosity:"Tom, what's going on?"

Too late she tried to crawl out from under the teen, as his bones started cracking and breaking, twisting and reforming until he had transformed into something no longer quite a man, but not quite a wolf.

"Tom!" she shouted before fainting.

The wolf-thing howled at the moon, then it lowered its slobbering jaws to begin devouring the face of Lindsay, who fortunately slept through her own death and didn't have to die in agony.

For nearly an hour it continued to devour the brunette until she was little more than a bloody skeleton. Then as a cloud passed over the moon, Tom's bones began cracking and breaking again, twisting and reforming, until he had returned to his human form.

More than a little faint, his vision swimming, at first Tom didn't see what he had done. Then as his vision began to clear he saw what remained of the girl whom he had hoped to marry and fainted on top of what was left of her.

My work here is done, thought Bella. She took off back to the open window of her paisley-coloured room in the Dorset Hotel.

"I love it when a plan comes together," she said after transforming back into an elderly lady. She walked over to the en suite to take a shower to remove the transformation cream from her body.


After a couple of hours kissing and petting, Sheila and Derek finally removed all of their clothing, undressing each other, and began making love. First missionary style with Sheila underneath, then cowgirl style with Derek lying on his back on the yellow sofa, with Sheila riding up and down upon his erection shouting:

"Giddy up my black stallion," waving around an imaginary cowgirl hat.

They were just climaxing together, for the second time, when they heard the sound of a car door slamming outside the boarding house.

"Uh-oh, cheesit," said Sheila, hurriedly climbing off Derek and grabbing up her clothing.

"Meaning?" asked a panicked Derek.

"Grab your duds and follow me up to my room."


Upstairs, Sheila dumped her clothes onto her bed, then picked up her Bart Simpson Collector Frisbee and handed it to Derek.

"What's this for?" asked Derek.

"Drop your stuff and start bouncing this off the walls, like we're playing with it, while I get dressed. Then I'll do the same while you're dressing."

Half thinking she was mad, Derek did as instructed while Sheila hurriedly started dressing.


Terri and co. walked into the lounge room to find it empty, but the lights were still on.

"Derek must have gone home," suggested Natasha.

"Or else, they're still out," said Freddy Kingston.

'No, wait a minute," said Terri listening at the bottom of the stairs: "I can hear her Bart Simpson Collector Frisbee bouncing off the walls. Either Derek's gone, or they're playing with it together."

"She looks like a woman, but she's still into kiddie things," said Colin: "They had the whole house to themselves, and this is all they go up to!" Not knowing just how wrong he was.


Grabbing the Frisbee from Derek, Sheila started tossing it from wall to wall, saying: "Get dressed as quickly as you can."

A knocking came at the door and Terri said: "You two in there, it's gone midnight, you know?"

"Really?" said Sheila, stalling for time: "I guess we were having so much fun with the Frisbee, we just lost track of the time."

"So how did the bowling go?" asked Derek.

"Great for me," said Terri through the door: "I bowled a 299 game. Just one bloody pin wouldn't fall in the last frame. I was going to jump up and down to see if I could get it to fall, but the shoe girl warned that my game wouldn't count if I did that. Still, I've now got Kennedy Street Bowl's highest score of 299."

"That's great," said Sheila as she and Derek finally stepped out of the bedroom.

"Don't worry, babe," said Colin, patting Terri on the behind: "Next time we go bowling I'll break your record with a perfect game."

"Big words, little man," said Terri, stopping to stare, as she noticed that Derek had his trousers on inside out.

Not noticing that everyone was now staring at him, Derek kissed Sheila on the cheek and said, "We'll I'd better be heading home, Sheils."

"See you next week, maybe?" said Sheila.

"Sure thing, babe," said Derek as he walked down the steps toward the front door.

"Well, we'd better be going to bed too," said Colin, and they all headed to their respective rooms.

"In my house too," muttered Deidre Morton as she headed down the corridor.

"What was that, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila.

"Nothing," said Deidre.


"Well, I think we got away with that," said Sheila in her own room again; unaware of just how wrong she was.

She changed and climbed into bed, and had just fallen asleep when the hammering came on her bedroom door.

"Wakey, wakey, Sheils," called Terri.

"Morning time already?" asked a drowsy Sheila, not wanting to get up.

"No, another wacky backy case," called Terri.


Forty-odd minutes later Terri, Colin, and a yawning Sheila were standing in the morgue of the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, while Jesus Costello and Elvis Green examined the skeleton of Lindsay Moronie.

"So, what happened, Jesus?" asked Terri.

"As far as we can tell, her boyfriend ate her," said Jesus (pronounced 'Hee-Zeus') the administrator and chief surgeon of the hospital.

"Tom Proctor?" asked a shocked Sheila.

"Yup," said Elvis Green the local coroner; so nicknamed due to his devotion to the late King of Rock and Roll: "We pumped his stomach and there's no doubt it's the remains of young Lindsay."

"So where is Tom now?" asked Colin Klein.

"We've got him in a padded cell in the psych ward," said Topaz Moseley, a gorgeous thirty-something platinum-blonde nurse.

"Tom swears he can't remember eating her," said Jesus: "And claims they hadn't had an argument; in fact they were making love when whatever happened ... happened."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Sheila.

"Indeed," said Elvis: "Human teeth aren't designed to eat raw flesh and bone, so Tom shouldn't have been able to do what he apparently did."


The next day they examined the murder site outside LePage and talked to some of the locals. Some of whom reported hearing what sounded like a wolf howling the previous evening.

"The Black Wolf perhaps," suggested Sheila, referring to a local legend.

"The Black Wolf has been reported in the local area since the 1960s," pointed out Terri: "If it ever existed, it must be long dead. Wolves only live twelve to fifteen years in the wild."

"Maybe there's a breeding pack of them?" insisted the Goth chick.

"Anyway, they found Lindsay's remains in Tom's stomach," said Colin: "So that's the end of it."


That evening at the Dorset Hotel the residents were abuzz with the news of Tom Proctor eating Lindsay Moronie.

"Who would have picked him for a cannibal?' asked one old lady, Tanya.

"It's just the bloody papers being sensational," insisted her husband, Harvey: "He probably just raped then strangled her."

"Oh, Harv, that's a big improvement!"

"Well, I'm going up to bed for a little lie-down," said Bella Damesby, heading out into the reception area.

"Goodnight," called Tanya.

"Don't let the cannibals bite," said Harvey.

"Oh, Harv!"


Out on Williamstown Road, the closest thing the area had to a highway, the Delrossi family was roaring along in their immaculate cream-coloured Ferrari 599 GTX.

"Are we allowed to go this fast?" whined Gladys Delrossi, a short dumpy brunette in her early sixties: "You're pushing one-twenty kays."

"That's okay," insisted Conrad her husband, equally short and dumpy, with a shiny bald head and a love for speed. What's the use of spending four hundred grand on a sports car if you don't run it flat out? he thought.

"Mum's right," said their twelve-year-old son, Hank, a handsome blond boy, dressed to the nines in a beige-coloured Armani kid's suit. Like his father, he believed, 'If you've got it, spend it!': "We're going way too fast."

"Am not," said Tamsyn. The eleven-year-old brunette always agreed with her beloved dad, no matter how wrong he was: "Floor it some more, Dad."

"I've just had a request," said Conrad, pushing down harder on the accelerator

"And I'm requesting that you slow down before you kill us all!" cried Gladys.

"But not before you get past that smelly dero," said Tamsyn. She pointed to where a man in rags stood beside the road, trying to thumb a ride.

"Oh God, yes," said Gladys: "He'd probably kill us all and mug us.

"He wouldn't kill Tamsyn," teased Hank: "He'd kidnap her and keep her as a sex slave to rape repeatedly for the next thirty years or so."

"Hank!" cried Gladys and Conrad.


Outside on the kerbside, Dominic Killroy stood, thumbing hopefully, as the Ferrari rapidly approached, then whooshed past without even slowing.

"Bastards!" Dom called after them: "Wish I could kill them all!"

Why don't you? thought Bella winging across in mosquito form to sting him on the back of the neck.

"Damn it!" said Dom, slapping the back of his neck; just missing Bella: "I'll probably get malaria now."

That's not all you'll get! thought Bella.

The forty-year-old man, who looked at least seventy, started walking after the long-gone Ferrari, then suddenly fell to his knees screaming. His bones began to crack and snap loudly, twisting and reforming, until the hobo had transformed into something that looked midway between a small dinosaur and a giant roadrunner. Shrilling loudly, the dino-bird whooshed down the centre of the Macadam road after the Ferrari. Although the car was going over a hundred kilometres an hour, the dino-bird could reach nearly three hundred kilometres if it needed; so it started roaring after the Delrossis to get revenge upon them.

Without hesitation, Bella Damesby winged after the bird, determined not to miss any of the fun.


They were at least twenty kilometres past where the hobo had been when Tamsyn Delrossi started to hear a vague sound from behind them.

"I think something's following us," she said.

"How can it be, honey?" asked Gladys: "We're still doing over a hundred."

Looking around, Tamsyn could see a vague shape in the distance moving up on them.

"We're definitely being followed."

"They're just going in the same direction," said Hank, looking around in his seat: "She's right. But it looks too thin to be a car."

"Some idiot on a motorbike, determined to get himself killed," said Conrad: "I feel sorry for his poor parents."

"Don't think it's a motorbike," insisted Tamsyn: "Looks like some kind of an animal, possibly a bird."

"Honey, the cheetah is the fastest animal on Earth,' said Gladys: "And it can only do about eighty-five kays an hour and only for a couple of hundred metres."

"Well this one's catching up on us," said Hank: "And it's doing a lot more than eighty-five Kays."

"It's definitely some kind of a large bird, three metres tall," said Tamsyn.

"Honey, that's ten feet in the old scale," said Gladys: "There are no birds that tall anymore. The last of them was the giant moa in New Zealand, and that died out yonks ago."

"It's definitely a bird of some kind," confirmed Hank.

Seconds later the dino-bird roared up to the car and ripped the door off the boot of the car. It leapt into the boot and smashed headfirst through the rear window of the car, making the occupants scream; but not as loudly as the creature, which shrilled in rage before grabbing Hank.

It pulled the twelve-year-old in the boot of the car, then ripped his throat out with its fifteen-centimetre-long serrated teeth, before throwing his bloody body away, to bounce along the Macadam.

"Hank!" shrieked Tamsyn, seconds before the dino-bird poked its head back into the car and grabbed the screaming eleven-year-old.

"My baby!" shrieked Gladys She was unable to take her eyes off the rear-view mirror as the creature ripped out the young girl's throat, before devouring her face, then dropping the silently screaming corpse onto the Macadam road behind them.

"Oh my God!" cried Conrad, starting to brake the car.

"Don't slow down!" shrieked Gladys: "Or it'll..."

At that instant the dino-bird leapt right into the rear passenger area, reached around, and ripped Gladys's face right off her head, reducing her words to bubbling screams.

"Gladys!" shrieked Conrad, making the mistake of taking his eyes off the road at a hundred-and-twenty kilometres an hour.

The dino-bird was just reaching around to attack Conrad when the car suddenly flipped out of control. It spun over sideways seven or eight times, before coming to a stop upside down. Inside Gladys and Conrad were both dead. The dino-bird tried to crawl out of the shattered windscreen, then with one final shrilling shriek, it died of its injuries.

"What a shame," said Bella outside: "I was hoping it would peck them both slowly to death then run back to eat the little kiddies!"

Turning she flew back toward the Dorset Hotel.


Nine o'clock the next morning, Terri, Sheila, Colin, and most of the cops in the local area were examining the wrecked Ferrari. The four human corpses were already in ambulances on their way to Glen Hartwell Hospital. But the dino-bird had them all puzzled.

"Is this what they mean by 'Déjà vu all over again'?" asked Sheila, referring to a case the previous year when they had dealt with small-dinosaur-like birds.

"Seems like it," said Jesus Costello walking up to them: "I never thought we'd see these things again."

"And why now?" asked Terri: "Straight after a wacky cannibal killing."

"You think the two things are related?" asked Jesus.

"I don't see how; but if not it's a Hellova coincidence."


Over at the Dorset Hotel, Bella Damesby was doing her best to sound horrified by the news of the Ferrari crash, although so far the dino-bird had not been mentioned as the cause of it. But inside she was secretly smiling, delighted at the success of her activities.

"I feel sorry for poor Hank and Tamsyn," said Tanya.

"Yep, that Conrad Delrossi always was a speed demon," said Harvey: "Stupid bastard killed his whole family trying to be Ayrton Senna."

"Ayrton Senna crashed out and died too," put in Bella, always happy to bring death into the conversation.

"So he did," remembered Tanya.

Unable to resist smiling any longer, Bella got up and went out into the garish blue, white, and yellow reception area and started across to the elevator.

Upstairs she quickly undressed and smeared herself with the honey-lemon salve then in mosquito form flew out of the bedroom window.


Eighteen kilometres or so outside Harpertown, the Woola-Woola Aboriginal tribe were seated around a large ceremonial fire, preparing to perform the Lizard dance. The corroboree area was enclosed within a circle of ancient red gum trees. Selected centuries ago for privacy. But nowadays, they would perform in front of tourists or camera crews for payment.

To the one white spectator at this corroboree, Tallum Ferguson, the senior Elder of the tribe, Casper Bullo-Bullo, explained: "We have to earn a little money, due to the white invaders corrupting our lifestyle."

"How?" asked Tallum: "By slaughtering the local wildlife? By stealing your tribal lands?"

"No, by introducing us to fried fish and chips. My tribe is addicted to fish and chips, and you don't find them running around wild in the forest; so we need money to go into town to buy them."

"Oh," said Tallum, blushing, realising that he was being teased.

"Would you like to join in the ceremony?" asked Casper, as he rose nimbly, despite being in his seventies, to begin the corroboree.

Deciding he had made enough of a fool of himself already, Tallum said: "Maybe next time I come here. This time I'll just watch!"

"Suit yourself, mate," said Caper, calling the bucks and lubras to begin. The elder lubras were topless with huge pendulous breasts, which Tallum tried his best not to seem too interested in. The younger, western-educated lubras wore at least bras; some even T-shirts, one with a picture of the Sydney Swans football team mascot, with the words 'Carn the Swans' on it.

Picking up the tribe's corroboree sticks, Casper began chanting, while tapping the sticks together in rhythm.

"Uh-ah, ah-uh," chanted Casper, making up nonsense words to tease Tallum again: "Come to us, great Adnoartina, bless us with your presence."

Adnoartina is a traditional religious deity in Northern Territory Aboriginal culture. He takes the form of a gecko lizard and provides Aborigines with knowledge of Ayres Rock (Uluru)'s creation. However. since the demise of their own creator/destroyer Gods in the 1980s [Mamaragan: the Great Rainbow Serpent, and the Bunyip amongst them], the Woola-Woola tribe had adopted Adnoartina as one of their own Gods.

"Come to us, great Adnoartina!" repeated Casper. However, it was Bella Damesby in the form of a giant mosquito who came to him, stinging the elder upon the back of the neck.

"Jesus!" cried Casper, slapping at the back of his neck; too late to get the Beldame as she flew up into a red gum tree to watch the ensuing chaos.

"Are you all right?" asked Tallum.

Then the elder fell to his knees and started screaming as his bones began breaking and cracking, twisting and reforming. This time the victim's body began to flicker with a kaleidoscope of colours, some not known to science, before he finally transformed into a massive, hundred-metre-long serpent, rising high into the air above the corroboree ground.

"Mamaragan!" shrieked bucks and lubras alike. As with all Dream-Time creator legends, Mamaragan was a creator-destroyer.

For a few seconds, they stood still, too terrified to move. Then as the Great Rainbow Serpent plunged down toward the corroboree ground, the Aborigines shrilled in terror and tried to run for their lives. However, seeing that there was only one exit from the ring of close-knit gum trees, Mamaragan slithered quickly to cover the parting. Then he began plunging toward the hysterical bucks and lubra, scooping them up a dozen at a time to swallow down his reptilian throat.

Some of the natives tried climbing the gum trees in the hope of being able to escape higher up. However, the Rainbow Serpent easily scooped them off the trees, like a picking machine scooping apples or oranges from trees.

"Help us, Adnoartina!" cried some of the terrified natives. However, the gecko god was either up in the Northern Territory, too far away to hear them, or did not care; so Mamaragan kept scooping up and swallowing whole male and female, young and old alike.

Gradually the excited screaming died down, as the Rainbow Serpent devoured most of the hundred-strong tribe. Finally sated, he turned and slithered out through the exit, almost getting stuck between the gum trees, and departed. Leaving behind alive Tallum Ferguson, three young lubras, and two young bucks.

"Is ... is it gone?' asked Tallum; fainting before anyone could answer.

After resisting the temptation to faint themselves, the young bucks went to get a plastic bottle of spring water to revive Tallum; who immediately started screaming and fighting them.

When the white man had finally calmed down, one of the lubras, a teenage girl, Jenny, said: "We have to go into Harpertown to alert Bulam-Bulam."

"Is he from your tribe?" asked Tallum.

"No, from the Gooladoo tribe," said a young buck, Anson: "But he is the chief Elder in the Harpertown area."

"Okay, we'll take my Jeep,' said Tallum, tentatively stepping out of the corroboree circle. Outside there was no sign of Mamaragan; except for a long deep snake trail leading further out into the forest.

"At least he's not heading toward any other tribes," said Jenny as they sprinted toward the white man's dark blue Jeep Cherokee.


Bulam-Bulam was a grey-haired elder of the Gooladoo tribe, outside the township of Harpertown in the Victorian countryside. Although he lived in a lean-to in his tribal village, he owned and worked a small grocery shop in town. He was an early starter and a late stopper. But at a few minutes to nine PM, he was just closing up his shop in Chappell Street when the Jeep Cherokee pulled up.

"Bulam-Bulam," said Jenny, before breaking out into a long string of hastily mouthed indigenous words, to fill the elder in on the tragedy at the Woola-Woola tribal ground."

"Mamaragan?" asked the elder in disbelief.

"Not originally," said Tallum, filling in an important detail that Jenny in her excitement had forgotten: "Original it was Casper Bullo-Bullo. then something stung him on the back of the neck, and he started to break apart before reforming as a gigantic serpent."

Hurriedly, Jenny repeated what Tallum had just said, but in her indigenous language, as though translating or Bulam-Bulam. The old man resisted the temptation to tell her that he understood English, instead, he said:

"Get back into the Jeep, we're going."

"Back to the corroboree ground?" asked Jenny, a little frightened.

"No, to Merridale to fill in Terri Scott and the local police."

"Since when did we take our problems to the white police?" asked Anson.

"Since the 1960s, when Lawrie Grimes and Mel Forbes cut us a lot of slack to establish good relations between blacks and whites in the area."

"Oh," said Anson, sounding unconvinced.


At the Yellow House in Merridale, they were sitting around on the yellow furniture in the yellow-painted lounge room watching the late news on TV. All except for Terri and Colin, who had announced they were tired and had gone up to their shared bedroom at 8:00 o'clock, to a chorus of 'Ho-Hoes' from Sheila and Tommy.

They were down to the sports news when a rapping came at the front door.

"Now, who can that be?" asked Deidre Morton; going to investigate.

"And how come they didn't disturb us at mealtime as callers usually do?" asked Sheila.

"Quiet, Cleopatra," teased Freddy Kingston.

When Deidre returned with the news that they were needed at the Woola-Woola tribal ground, Sheila said:

"Bags I get to disturb the paramours mid-thrust."

"Sheils, you are so common these days," said Natasha Lipzing.

"It might be more diplomatic if I break it to them gently," said Deidre, starting across to the staircase.

"Only if you can reach them first," said Sheila. She raced past the old lady and up the stairs and started hammering on the yellow-painted door, shouting: "Get off each other and get onto the case. We've had a massacre this time."

After a minute or so a bleary-eyed Terri in a translucent pale blue nightie opened the door and said: "If you must know we were actually sleeping."

"Not at first, I bet," said Sheila, grinning broadly.

"Mrs. M., next time could you come to awaken us?"

"I tried, but I'm an elderly lady and couldn't keep up with her; Sheils is like a whippet on steroids."

Not sure if she had just been insulted, Sheila said: "I paid her to let me get there first."

"You did not!"

"Sheils is lying again," confirmed Natasha

"Bulam-Bulam says there's been a massacre at the Woola-Woola tribal grounds," said Deidre.

"Which was it this time? A cannibal? Or a dino-bird?" asked Sheila as Terri and Colin hurriedly dressed.

"Neither ... the great Rainbow Snake," said Deidre.

"I did not see that coming," said Colin as he and Terri stepped out into the corridor still yawning.


At the corroboree ground, they found chaos; but no bodies. It would be early the next morning before they dared set out into the forest, after the trail of the kaleidoscopic-coloured Rainbow Serpent. At first, they found no sign of Mamaragan; but did find thousands of regurgitated human bones.

"Mamaragan," said Bulam-Bulam. He went on to tell them about what happened to Joseph Garbarla's tribe in the 1980s. [See my story 'Mamaragan: The Great Rainbow Snake.']

Terri and co. sat quietly and watched while Bulam-Bulam and the survivors from the Woola-Woola tribe started preparing to perform the ritual to 'lay' Mamaragan in the ground.

"And no obscene jokes about 'laying' the serpent!" whispered Terri to Sheila.

"I wouldn't," said Sheila defensively. Then when Colin and Terri stared at her in disbelief: "Okay ... I won't. But it seems a waste of good material!"

Finally the 'laying ceremony' began. Bulam-Bulam at sixty-five was more knowledgeable about indigenous rituals than the young bucks and lubras, and started performing a ritual which none of them were familiar with.

As they struggled to keep up with the Elder, Sheila whispered: "This reminds me of the first time I took part in a ritual. I had been watching them carefully for ages and thought I knew them all ... then the day I joined in Bulam-Bulam sprung an almost forgotten ritual on me. And I made a total dorkess out of myself."

"Made?" teased Colin.

For a couple of hours, nothing seemed to be happening. Then finally, they heard a slither-scraping as the gigantic serpent made its way through the jungle toward them; taking down gum or pine trees. pushing them over with its bulk.

"Here he comes," said Terri, moments before a giant diamond-shaped reptilian head appeared in the entrance/exit.

"Shouldn't we have performed the ritual outside, where we can run away?" asked Sheila.

"The ritual would not work outside," explained Bulam-Bulam: "And if it fails, it doesn't matter where we perform it ... we are dead."

"Stop sugar-coating it," teased Sheila.

Ignoring her, the elder continued with the ritual as the serpent squeezed into the corroboree ground. Looking at first as though the ritual had failed, Mamaragan dived headfirst toward the dancing natives; who jumped out of the way just in time. Unable to stop, the Rainbow Serpent powered down through the earth, digging a massive tunnel with its body as it went.

"Is that it? asked Colin; receiving a shrug from the Elder.

"Your guess and all that," said Bulam-Bulam.

For a moment they could hear the sound of the Rainbow Snake trying to turn to come back up. Bulam-Bulam threw the ceremonial relics into the hole to keep the creature from returning.


After they left the corroboree circle, Terri asked; "If this ritual was performed in the 1980s, how did Mamaragan appear again in 2024?"

"He didn't. This Mamaragan was the chief Elder of the tribe, according to the survivors. Then something the size of a dragonfly stung him and he transformed into a new Mamaragan."

"If that happened in the other cases," said Colin: "That could be our missing link between the murders."

"Something is stinging people and turning them into monsters?" said Sheila.

"Well, it makes as much sense as every other goofy case we've had here in the last six months or so," said Bulam-Bulam.

"Where to next?" asked Sheila.

"To the Dorset Hotel," said Terri: "If my memory hasn't gone senile, we've had a number of gorgeous female monsters book in there over the last six months."

"What about the Baltimore Inn?" asked Sheila: "We've had some hottie monsters book in there too."

"We'll try them next if the Dorset doesn't pan out," said Terri.


At the Dorset Hotel in LePage, they were getting ready for lunch, when Terri and co. turned up.

Careful not to let the guests overhear them, Terri asked if any mysterious beautiful women have recently booked in, just before the killing started.

"Nope," said George Mulberry: "The only lady to book in here the last few days is over eighty and grey-haired."

"She must suffer from arthritis or something," said Annette: "Since her room always smells of honey-lemon as though she rubs it on herself."

"I love Honey Lemon," said Sheila.

"For your arthritis?" teased Colin.

"No, she's my favourite character in 'Big Hero 6'. It's a great Disney animation film. Mind you Gogo Tomago and Baymax are pretty cool too ... But the others are all pretty nerdy."

"Sheils you're an enigma," said Terri: "If you're not watching 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman' or other action-splatter flix; you're watching kid's cartoons."

"'Big Hero 6' is not a kid's cartoon movie ... it's for adults too ... and it doesn't have the endless stream of Kylie Minogue-level light-weight pop twaddle which spoilt 'Frozen 1', and 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'."

Trying to get the conversation back on track, Terri asked: "So what is this old lady's name."

"Bella Damesby' said George.

"That name sounds familiar?" said Terri.

"You're thinking of Bella Ramsey from that U.K. porn show 'Game of Boners' as we call it down under," said Sheila: "She's quite the little actress. Another Honor Kneafsey in my opinion."

"Beldame," pointed out Bulam-Bulam: "Is a European word for an ancient hag; possibly a witch, Banshee, Incubus, or other female demon."

"Isn't he the clever clogs," said Sheila.

"So where is she now?" asked Terri.

"In the dining room getting ready to eat lunch."

"Then let's go up and check out her room for this magic honey-lemon paste."

"Not without a search warrant," insisted Annette:"And the nearest magistrate is in BeauLarkin. A two-hour drive from here."

"We know that," said Colin: "We recently drove down to the Beau for a game of bowls ... And that's all we got in before having to turn around and head back home."

"Well, it can't be helped," insisted Annette.

"She might have just killed and eaten nearly a hundred people," said Sheila.

"Can you prove that?" demanded the redheaded woman.

"But you'll let us in with a warrant from a magistrate?" asked Terri.

"Yes," said Annette sounding reluctant.

"Colin,' said Terri: "I hereby appoint you as a state magistrate for the local area, with the authority to write out cease and desist orders and warrants."

"As top cop, you don't have the authority to do that!" protested Annette.

"You're forgetting that with the recent tragic death of ninety-five-year-old Mayor Hodges: "I have been made temporary Mayor until they can arrange a bye-election."

"Well," said Annette, clearly unconvinced.

"Honey, write us out a warrant on any old scrap of paper you've got handy."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Colin found a small five-by-three centimetre pad. He wrote: This is an official warrant granting permission for the Glen Hartwell Police to check out Bella Damesby's room at the Dorset Hotel in LePage. Then he just managed to sign and date it before running out of space.

"I'm still not happy about it," said Annette Mulberry; still she unlocked the door to the paisley-coloured room and led them inside.

After ten minutes or so of searching, Sheila located the honey-lemon-smelling jar in the bedside cabinet. As she reached in to pick it up, Terri shouted:

"Not with your bare hand! If it does turn people into some kind of monster insect, the last thing we need is to have to squish you, Sheils."

"That's the last thing I need too," agreed Sheila. Reaching into her uniform pocket, she extracted two blue plastic gloves and a clear plastic zip-top bag.

After placing the jar into the bag, she wrote on the label: 'Honey-Lemon salve. May turn people into monster insects'.

"Until last October," admitted Sheila: "That was something I never thought I'd have to write on an evidence bag."

Going down to the lunch room, they strategically encircled Bella Damesby, before cuffing her.

"I am arresting you for the murders of Lindsay Moronie, four members of the Delrossi family, and nearly a hundred members of the Woola-Woola tribe, outside Harpertown."

"You can't prove anything," insisted the Beldame as she was led away.

"Maybe we can, once we have your honey-lemon salve analysed."

"You've got it?" said the crone trying to break out of their grip. However, with Colin, Bulam-Bulam, and Sheila all holding her by her arms, she was unable to escape.

"Just at lunchtime as usual," said Sheila: Then to the Beldame: "So what do you want for lunch."

"Pain misery, suffering, and death,' said the crone unapologetically.

"We can't actually get you that," apologised Terri: "But Neptune's Fish-and-Chipatorium in Glen Hartwell does wonderful fish and chips."

"I can't eat human so-called food."

"Then you're outta luck," said Bulam-Bulam: "My people all love fish and chips."

"Actually, honey," said Colin to Terri: "I didn't know you were the temporary mayor of Glen Hartwell until the upcoming bye-election?"

"I'm not, Don Frazer is. But Annette Mulberry didn't know that," said Terri, making everyone except the Beldame laugh.

THE END
© Copyright 2024 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia