THE DARKENING

It was the September school holidays and the Quincy family was having a family walk through the forest outside Glen Hartwell in the South Eastern Victorian Countryside. Quentin was a tall, raven-haired man of about forty, his wife Quinlana (Quinn for short) was a pretty thirty-something brunette. Their three children, Quella nine years old, Dorothy (nicknamed 'Queenie') aged eight, and Quinton aged seven, were all dead ringers for their mother facially. However, Quella and Quinton had their father's black hair.

"So tell us again why we're walking frew da wayne?" asked Queenie, holding her father's left hand and sharing his large black umbrella.

"It's only spitting, honey," replied Quentin, as they strolled slowly through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest.

"It's cold," protested Quella, holding her mother's left hand, while Quinton held her right.

"Coolish, baby," said Quinn: "That's why you're wearing your jacket that Nana gave you for last Christmas."

"Hope she gimme something better dis Kwismas," moaned the little girl: "Like lollies, or Monster High dolls."

"You and Monster High," said Quinton shaking his head: "I prefer action DVDs: Bruce Willis, Vin Diesel, or Dwayne Johnson 'specially."

"You and your haction movies," said Queenie: "Gimme Monster High or Scooby Doo."

"Or Loud House or Casagrandes," added Quella.

"None of that sissy stuff for me!" insisted Quinton.

"Are you calling us sissies?" demanded Queenie.

"Honey, sissy just means like a girl," pointed out Quentin: "So there's nothing wrong with my two beautiful little girls being sissies."

"Well, hokay," said Quella, sounding unconvinced.

While they were walking and talking, the rain had gradually stopped. However, the sky around them had started to darken almost eerily.

"Hey, night came herly," said Quella.

"It's not 10:30 AM yet," said Quinn, looking at her watch. Just in time, before they were all engulfed in waves of total darkness: "Even in Victoria night doesn't came that early."

"What da elle is happening?" shrieked Quinton.

At the same time, the two girls started squealing.

"Calm down!" cried Quentin: "It's just a black fog."

"What's a black fog?" demanded Quinn.

"I don't know. But they've had black rain, and black snow; both caused by pollution in the air ... So, this must be something similar."

The three children thought about this for a moment, then started screaming and squealing again.

"Calm down, kids," said Quinn, despite being alarmed herself.

As the Darkening started to close in, while slowly solidifying, Quentin said: "Just follow the sound of my voice and walk slowly toward me."

Quinn and the kids did as instructed until the five Quincies were holding hands.

"Now, we'll just walk slowly forward, until we get out of the fog," insisted Quentin: "But slowly, we don't want to brain ourselves upon any trees."

"Da fog's gettin' ficker," said Quella.

"That's just an illusion caused by your fear," said Quinn, although the fog did seem to be solidifying.

Queenie squealed, then said: "Something just slapped me."

"It's just your imagination, honey," said Quinn, despite tendrils of the blackness seeming to slap at her too: "Just keep walking and we'll soon be out of it."

"What hiff hit goes hon forhever?" asked Queen.

"It's unlikely even the blackest fog could blanket the entire planet," assured Quentin: "Even when Krakatoa exploded people could still see ... even though the world was in night-time for a week or so."

"Are we gonna be hin night-time for a week whore so?" asked a terrified Queenie.

"No," insisted Quentin.

Even as he said it, they started to feel the black fog thinning out, and the tendrils stopped slapping at them.

"I think I can see a green light up ahead," said an excited-sounding Quinn.

"So, can I," said a relieved Quentin: "See, kids, we're almost out of the fog. Just keep walking slowly forward toward the green light."


Over at the Mitchell Street Police Station in Glen Hartwell, Suzette Cummings was manning the telephone, while Colin Klein, Terri Scott, and Sheila Bennett sat together at the huge blackwood desk which took up half of the front office, reading through the Victoria Police Manual, as they often did when bored shitless.

"That was Kenny Maxwell," said Suzette, hanging up. An attractive ravenette, Suzette had just turned eighteen, and was a police cadet only: "He says there's a strange night-black fog wafting through the forest outside Glen Hartwell."

"What's he want me to do about it?" asked Terri. At thirty-five, the beautiful ash blonde was top-cop of the entire BeauLarkin to Willamby area, covering nearly twelve thousand residents: "I'm not the weatherwoman."

"Oh, I love that film," said Sheila. A Goth chick with black-and-orange-striped hair, Sheila was the second-top cop in the area. She had turned thirty-six that day.

"What film?" asked Terri, ruefully.

"The Weatherwoman; it's a fantastic Japanese comedy film. The sequel, The Weatherwoman Returns is so-so; but the first film is fabuloso."

"She's a wealth of totally useless information, isn't she?" said Colin to no one in particular. Having recently turned forty-nine, the handsome redheaded man had spent thirty years as a London crime reporter, before retiring to start working for the Glen Hartwell Police Force after clicking with Terri.

"I choose to take that as a compliment," said Sheila: "Even though I know that's not how you meant it."

"Sorry, birthday girl," said Colin.

"So, what about the black fog?" asked Suzette.

"Oh ... I guess we can check up on it," said Terri: "You stay, manning the phone."

"Okay," said Suzette unenthusiastically.

As soon as they had left the room, Suzette rang her sister, Marilyn, so they could spend the next hour nattering.


"So, has Mrs. M. said anything about making me a birthday cake?" asked Sheila as soon as they entered Terri's police-blue Lexus.

"Oh, sorry, we forgot to tell her," lied Terri.

"However, we did get you a present," said Colin. He handed her a small square package.

"What is it?' she asked ripping off the paper to see a burgundy-coloured necklace box. Opening the box she took out a necklace with a golden heart-shaped pendant upon it.

"It's solid gold, with silver inlaid writing," said Terri; as Sheila put on the necklace.

Sheila lifted the pendant to try to read it, but the writing was upside-down, so she had to twist it around to read: 'Mad Goth Chick!"' centred down the heart.

"Hey, I love it!"

"We knew you would," said Terri: "Now let's go hunting for black fog!"


Finally, the Quincies escaped the pull of the Darkening and found themselves still in a forest. But not the one they had started in. This forest had a bright green sun, shining in an orange sky, with cobalt-blue trees, and cherry-red dirt underfoot.

“Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,” said Quinn before fainting.

"Quinlana!" cried Quentin racing across to his prostrate wife.

As he started ministering to her, behind him Queenie and Quella started screaming.

"Girls, concentrate on the pretty orange sky or blue trees," said Quentin, not having seen why his daughters were squealing.

"Daddy, I don't fink they care about the sky ot twees," said Quinton.

As Quinn started to revive, Quentin looked up and saw the yellow creature wending toward them. It was five metres tall, and had a long serpentine body but with heavily clawed feet, yellow, slitted eyes, and a long spear-like tongue. Its tail swished from side to side like the tail of any angry cat.

Picking up Quinn, Quentin said: "Everybody back into the black fog!"

However, when they turned to run, the fog had disappeared; leaving them to face the yellow serpent.


Between Sheila admiring her pendant, and trying to drive, they almost crashed half a dozen times, before finally reaching the area which Kenny Maxwell had claimed to be full of black fog. However, all they saw were sweet-smelling pine and gun trees.

"Anyone see any thick pea soup fog?" asked Terri as they alighted from the car.

"Actually, he said it was black fog," pointed out Sheila: "So it's more likely charcoal soup."

"Or heavily burnt pea soup," said Colin.

"Okay, let's look around for half an hour or so," said Terri: "On the odd chance that Kenny isn't insane."

"That would be odd," said Sheila as they started walking through the forest.

After half an hour they met up again!

"Find anything?" asked Terri.

"Two brollies," said Sheila: "A man's black one, and an orange-and-green-striped woman's. I wouldn't mind keeping the orange and green one."

"Well, if no one claims them in three months you can keep them both," said Terri: "In the meantime, they stay in the lost-and-found closet."

"We have a lost-and-found closet?"

"That room in the back area of the station with all those odds and sods in it," explained Colin.

"I thought that stuff belonged to the station?"

"Technically most of it does now, since it's been there for over three months."

"Great," said Sheila. Almost running across to the Lexus, she said: "Let's go check it out."

"Why, Sheils?" asked Terri, with due trepidation.

"So I can get myself some extra birthday presents."

"We should never have told her about the lost-and-found closet," said Colin as he and Terri started after the Goth chick.


After arriving at the station, while Suzette watched on Colin, Sheila, and Terri raced through the front room toward the door to the back room.

"Where ya going?" asked Suzette.

"To check out the lost-and-found closet," said Sheila.

"We have a lost-and-found closet?" asked Suzette, following after them.

After more than an hour, they returned, all loaded with goodies.

"You know, technically we're stealing," said Terri.

"If you don't want your stuff, I'll have it," said Sheila.

"Not a chance," said Terri yawning, which set off Suzette and Colin.

"I'm feeling a bit shagged out," said Colin: "Maybe we should return to the Yellow House for a couple of hours rest."

"Is that what you call it now," teased Sheila, making Suzette giggle.

"I'm a little tired too," said Suzette: "I might knock off for the day."

"Guess you're left to man the phone, Sheils," teased Colin.

"As if!" said Sheila: "I'm the birthday girl."


Giles Doohan was walking his black-faced merino sheep through the forest, up from his back paddock where they had feeding on the long grass, to the corral a hundred metres or so behind his farmhouse on the outskirts of LePage. Around the sheep raced his two blue Kelpies, nipping at the heels of the sheep occasionally to keep them moving, and from time to time taking a shortcut across the backs of sheep to get to other slow coaches.

"Timmy, Tracy, keep 'em moving forward," Giles encouraged his dogs, although they were already doing a good job.

Then, as the sky mysteriously started darkening, man and dogs alike started looking about in surprise, while the sheep started bleating.

"Getting dark early today," said Giles looking about himself as the merinos continued bleating excitedly. The sky above him still seemed quite light, but the darkness was closing in all around him, a dark fog from ground level to perhaps five metres into the air.

"What the Hell?" said Giles as the Darkening started to swallow him and the merinos completely.

Yelping in terror, the two blue Kelpies turned tail and raced back toward the farmhouse two or three kilometres away.

"Come back here, you worthless fleabags!" cried Giles.

He tried leading the merinos through the darkness toward the farmhouse, however, they soon panicked and tried to flee. Except that the dark fog had started to thicken, until soon it was like trying to walk through treacle - preventing Giles or his sheep from fleeing.

"Stupid bloody black fog," said Giles.

Seconds later the bleating of the merinos went up a notch in volume and in panic, as though the sheep were being attacked by something hidden in the glutinous darkness.

"What's going on?" asked Giles, of no one in particular.

Hamstrung by the darkness, the farmer tried locating his sheep by touch but soon could barely move as the black fog continued to solidify around him and his panicked merinos.

Giles had almost given up hope of finding his way out of the darkness when he saw a small but bright green light blinking through the darkness. Forced to abandon his livestock for now, the farmer started swimming his way through the treacly blackness. Standing up, swimming was difficult, but centimetre by centimetre he managed to force his way through the sludgy fog until he was almost up to the green light.

Then from out of the light raced two little figures, both screaming in high, girlish voices. The two figures also had to swim through the stygian fog, even more slowly than Giles.

Not knowing whether to go after them or continue onward, the farmer treaded fog, undecided, until noticing that the flashing green light had gone out, or been blocked off by the black fog.

Trying his best to swim back through the black fog, Giles was unable to escape the darkness that soon began squeezing upon him, like a gigantic nutcracker trying to crush a cocoanut.

Can't breathe, thought Giles, unable to say it aloud.

One by one the bleating sheep stopped bleating as the crushing black fog burst them like watermelons, sending blood, gore, and innards swirling through the substance of the Darkening.

Feeling something warm and slimy against his flesh, Giles's last thought was: What now! Unaware that it was the pulped remains of his valuable merino sheep.


Up at the white weatherboard farmhouse, Myrna Doohan had just started to put on her husband's tea, when she heard the running footsteps on the deal wood porch out back. Looking around, the chubby brunette expected to see her hungry husband returning to the farmhouse tired and dirty. Instead, the farm's two blue Kelpies pushed their way in through the dog flap, whining in terror as they raced across to hide under the kitchen table.

"All right you moronic mutts, what are you doing home without your Daddy?" asked Myrna.

The dogs kept yelping and whining by way of answer.

"Has something happened to your Daddy?" asked Myrna again.

Then she saw the tops of the heads of two little figures racing toward the fly screen door out back.

"Who the...?" said Myrna going across to open the backdoor before the visitors could even knock.

Stumbling inside, the two little girls clung onto the brunette for dear life, sobbing, and panting for breath.

When she had finally calmed them down, Quella Quincy said: "Da dark fog ate our parents."

"And Quinton," added Queenie, before both girls started crying again.


When they arrived at the Yellow House in Rochester Road in Merridale, there was no sign of life.

"Looks like no one's home," said Terri, surreptitiously grinning at Colin.

"Who cares, as long as we can...?" began Sheila, stopping, startled, as the hall light suddenly went on and a dozen people called out:

"Surprise!"

"What the...?" began Sheila, then seeing Deidre Morton, her landlady, carrying a massive cake with candles on it: "Ah, you blokes ... I thought you'd all forgotten."

"How could we," said Derek Armstrong a black American-born paramedic and Sheila's boyfriend: "You've been dropping less than subtle hints for the last ten days at least."

"Trust me," said Cheryl Pritchard, the chief paramedic of the area, and Derek's boss and friend: "Strong Arm was being kind when he said less than subtle."

"Subtlety is not your strongest trait, Sheils," said Tommy Turner, a short, fat, blond retiree living at the house. As everyone else started laughing, he said: "What's the joke?"

"Coming from you, that's the pot calling the kettle black," said Natasha Lipzing. At seventy-one she had spent the last thirty-six years at the boarding house.

"How dare you," demanded Tommy.

"Tommy, calling you subtle, is like calling Donald Trump sane," said Freddy Kingston, another recent retiree living at the Yellow House: "To quote Normie Rowe, 'It Ain't Necessarily So-Wo'!"

"How dare you?" demanded Tommy as the hall phone started ringing.

"Aren't you still on phone duty, Suzette?" asked Sheila.

"I guess so," said the raven-haired teen going out into the hall.

A few minutes later, she returned to say: "That was Myrna, from the Doohan Sheep Station outside LePage. She said the Quincy girls raced into the farmhouse saying a black fog ate their parents and brother!"

"I can safely say that was the last thing I expected you to say," said Colin.

"That damn black fog again," said Terri: "We'd better go investigate. Sheils, as the birthday girl, you stay here. We'll take Suzette on one of her rare non-phone related cases."

"Okey dokey," said Sheila starting to cut the case.

"Actually, we'd better go too, in case it's true," said Cheryl Pritchard.

She, Derek, and Leo Laxman all headed outside.


Over at the sheep station they talked to Myrna and were told the same as over the phone.

"Also I'm worried because Giles hasn't returned for his tea yet."

The brunette had given Quella and Queenie some mild natural sleeping tablets, so while they slept Terri, Colin, and Suzette went out back with torches to look for the sheep farmer.

From time to time they called his name without answer.

It had started to darken by the time they found the mass of what at first looked eerily like dozens of woollen, splattered watermelons.

"What the...?" asked Suzette going closer to examine them.

A decision she quickly regretted as, clutching her mouth, she raced away from the remains to throw up across the long grass. Embarrassed, yet pleased that at least she had not fouled the death scene.

"I think we've just found what's left of Giles and his merinos," said Terri, having to fight not to throw up at the sight of pulped blood, bones, and entrails herself.

"What the Hell could have mashed seventy-odd merinos plus Giles like they were rotten watermelons?" asked Colin.

"Nothing that I know of," said Terri staring in disbelief at the remains.

"Even a tiger couldn't do this," said Colin: "You'd need an entire streak of tigers to do so much damage."

"Streak?" asked Suzette.

"That's the collective noun for tigers," said Colin: "Or else an ambush."

"Ambush seems the more appropriate term," said Terri, horrified by the great mass of animal and human remains left in the wake of the Darkening.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse they were relieved to see another ambulance had arrived, besides the one with Cheryl, Derek, and Leo. Also two doctors from the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital: Jesus Costello (pronounced 'Hee-Zeus') a tall muscular man and chief surgeon, and Tilly Lombstrom, a shapely, fifty-something brunette, and Jesus's second-in-command.

While Tilly went to administer sedatives to Myrna and the Quincy girls, Terri, Colin, Derek, Cheryl, and Leo went down to see what they could make of the remains of Giles Doohan.

"According to Quella and Queenie Quincy he was eaten by the black fog which everyone except us has seen around Glen Hartwell and parts lately," explained Terri, making Jesus stare at her.

"Honestly," said Colin as Jesus continued to stare at them.

"If you say so," said Jesus returning to examine the shattered remains of man and merinos. He took some photos, then said: "They've certainly been mashed or pulped somehow."

After the remains of Giles had been scooped up to be taken to the hospital, they all started back toward the farmhouse.

"So what do you think of one of your first field cases, Suzette?" asked Colin.

"To quote my one-time-hippy grandfather, 'Weirdsville man'," said the ravenette, making everybody laugh.


Eventually, Terri and Colin returned to Rochester Road to find most of the partygoers gone, and Sheila draped almost from head to toe in bling.

"We'll have to call you Bling-Bling Chick if you keep wearing all that stuff," teased Terri.

"Virtually everybody gave me necklaces, broaches, or bracelets," said the Goth chick: "I thought I'd try them all on together, just once. What do you both think?"

"You look like a slightly long-in-the-tooth hippy dip," teased Colin.

"Ignore him, Sheils. " Terri said, "You look great. Did you get anything besides jewellery?"

"Yes, Mrs. M. gave me a beautiful black jewellery case. Just as well, or I wouldn't know where to keep all this stuff." She showed them the large case which was made of black mother of pearl.

"Excelente!" said Colin.

"Fabuloso," said Terri.


The next morning, soon after breakfast, Terri, Colin, and Sheila headed to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, to see what else the doctors had learnt.

"Not much," said Jesus Costello: "We took DNA samples to establish the mess was Giles, however, it'll be two or three days before we know for sure."

"Also," said Topaz Moseley, a gorgeous platinum blonde nurse, who had just turned thirty-three: "Quella and Queenie are now saying that the black fog gradually thickened until it was like black jelly."

"Ooh, I love black jelly," said Sheila: "Black current or blackberry jelly, they're both delish!"

"Yes," said Colin: "We remember when Deidre accidentally bought black currant jelly mix."

"So, you scoffed the lot since none of the rest of us would eat it," said Terri.

"It's my good luck if the rest of you don't have any taste."

"Well, we'd better not get black currant jelly for my birthday next week."

"That's right your birthday is eight days after mine," said Sheila: "Which means I'm older than you ... So how come you're the top cop around here, not me?"

"Sheils, even Russell Street isn't crazy enough to make you the top cop of the area," teased Colin.

"I'm fairly certain they are," insisted Sheila.


Sitting at a checkout counter at the Glen Hartwell Mall, in Boothy Street, Lulu Wellins was bored, waiting for the gaggle of shoppers to actually bring their purchases to the front of the mall-cum-supermarket.

The petite pixie-cut brunette teen was also missing Woof, her gigantic bull mastiff dog, which was being looked after while she was at work by two friends of hers.

"Don't worry, Lulu," said her boss Hiram P. Brody: "Some of them are almost finished, I think."

The double glass doors opened with a whoosh as Sarah Macintosh, an attractive, thirty-something silver blonde entered the store. Followed by roiling waves of black fog.

"What the heck?" asked Lulu staring at the Darkening as it flooded into the store.

"What?" asked Sarah, turning to look where Lulu was watching. Only to be engulfed by the thick, black fog.

"Why aren't the doors closing?" asked Hiram Brody.

He started to walk through the black fog until Lulu called out: "Mr. Brody, don't walk through it!"

"Whyever not?"

"I ... I don't know ... Just don't; it might not be safe."

"How could it...?" began Brody.

Then, as Sarah Macintosh started screaming from within the Darkening, Hiram hurriedly backed away, calling for Lulu to follow him.

"What the heck is it?" asked Lulu as they backed deeper into the mall.

"Damned if I know," admitted Hiram: "But I think you're right about not walking into it."

As Hiram and Lulu backed away, the Darkening fully entered the store, allowing the automatic doors to finally whoosh shut.

"How the Hell can fog, even black fog, be thick enough to keep the doors from closing?" Hiram thought aloud: "It's just fog, with soot or something in it."

However, as Sarah Macintosh continued screaming, even when the Darkening journeyed deeper into the store, leaving her behind, Lulu said:

"Whatever is in that fog ... I don't think it's harmless soot."

"What else could it be?"

"I don't ..." began Lulu, stopping as Sarah suddenly raced forward, crashing into the glass doors, which were not fast enough to open.

Cackling like a witch in Macbeth, Sarah charged the doors again. This time they opened just in time and Sarah went stumbling outside, only to fall face down on the concrete, knocking herself out.

Deeper in the store, dozens of other people started screaming, crying, or laughing hysterically, as the Darkening spread out until it nearly filled the entire ground floor.

"What's going on?" asked a redhead on the first floor.

She started down the steps to the ground floor and was soon cackling like one of Macbeth's three evil crones, as she entered the black fog.

"Let's get out of here," said Brody.

Grabbing Lulu by the hand, he pulled her across to the electric doors, then out under the store's overhang. Then he took out his mobile to phone through to Terri Scott's number.

"How's it going?" asked a local farmer, Yancy Cartwright, heading toward the store.

"Sorry, Mr. Cartwright," said Lulu, stepping in front of him: "We can't let you go into the mall at the moment."

"Whyever not?" asked Yancy.

He stopped and stared past Lulu, to where he could see the black cloud blanketing the entire ground floor, and now the first floor of the two-storey mall.

"What the Hell is that?"

"Don't know," admitted Lulu: "So, it's best to stay out of it."

Gregory Church was a proud family man, who had wanted sons to follow in his footsteps as a local carpenter. But he was very proud of his two beautiful daughters: Mercy a ravenette aged twelve, and Sunny, a platinum blonde who had just turned thirteen.

"Daddy, what's happening?" asked a hysterically Mercy, as they were suddenly blanketed in a sea of cloying darkness.

Starting to scream, she groped round in the dark for his hand, and by sheer luck found it ... Bad luck!

Laughing like a madman in a B-Horror film, Gregory ripped his twelve-year-old daughter's clothes away, until she was naked. He dragged her to the floor of the aisle and began raping her violently.

"Daddy, no!" pleaded Mercy, shrieking in agony as he penetrated her.

Although Gregory was only average size, to a twelve-year-old virgin, it felt like a baton as her father brutally thrust into her.

Elsewhere in the store people were throwing heavy cans at each other, cackling with delight at the sound of skulls cracking.

Despite being unable to see, some of the shoppers began charging down the aisles, using their shopping trolleys like deadly battering rams, ploughing into unsuspecting shoppers frozen from terror in the darkness.

"Score one for Wellsy!" cried Bernard Wells as his trolley connected with a frail old lady, sending her headfirst into a tall stack of canned dog food.

The heavy cans crashed down upon the old lady, smashing in her face, and breaking both of her arms, which shattered like matchsticks.

"Get thee behind me, foul creature," shrieked Barbette Swanston.

Grabbing her one-year-old baby boy from his carriage, she tossed him down the darkened aisle, cackling in glee as he crashed headfirst into another column of cans, killing the boy, and sending cans scattering everywhere across the lino-covered floor of the store.

"Direct hit!" shouted Barbette in delight.

She jumped into the air in the darkness and landed on a rolling can as she came down. Shrieking in terror, she fell backwards with her spine crashing down onto two rolling cans, and her brunette head crashing into a third can with a crunch.

Gregory Church had finished raping his daughter Mercy and had abandoned her to her screaming, crying, then soon cackling. In the dark, he started reaching around for Sunny, wishing he could see her beautiful blonde features.

When he found her, instead of fighting her father, Sunny willingly obliged, stripping out of her clothing, before helping her father to undress. Then pushing her father over onto his back, the thirteen-year-old girl sat astride his hips and lowered her virginal vagina onto his rampant manhood. She cried a little at the penetration but was soon riding up and down upon her father's penis shouting out obscenities which would make a trucker faint, and a nun die as she started riding her father's manhood faster and faster.

Shrieking in delight, Gregory filled Sunny's womb with his semen, then collapsed from exhaustion. Sunny collapsed on top of him, her right hand lolling sideways, till it connected with a can of dog food.

Cackling with glee, Sunny picked up the can of dog food and began bashing her father's head in with it, still sitting astride his semi-erect manhood.

"Die, Daddy, die!" she shrieked in delight.

Not because he had raped her, since she hadn't even fought him, but because it seemed like a fun thing to do while still astride him.

Dropping the can, the naked girl climbed off her father, then strolled down the aisle and somehow managed to find herself at the front doors, which whooshed open for her.


Outside, attending to Sarah Macintosh, Lulu, Hiram, and Yancy were startled to see the naked thirteen-year-old girl walk out of the Mall.

"Oh my God, Sunny, what happened to you?" asked Lulu.

Smiling broadly the blonde girl said: "I just fucked my Daddy, then bashed his head in with a can of something."

"Oh, my God, why?"

Still beaming broadly, Sunny said: "Because it was a fun thing to do."

She started cackling as she walked naked out into the mall's car park, not concerned about her nudity or the red and white fluids which leaked from her vagina to run down her legs.

"Sunny, wait," called Lulu. Standing, she raced after the blonde teen: "Where are you going, honey?"

"Home, I'm bored."

"Where's Mercy?"

"Inside. Daddy raped her first before I rode him. That silly bitch cried and screamed while he fucked her."

"Is that why you killed your daddy."

"No, it just seemed like a fun thing to do."

Lulu stopped, staring after the retreating girl, relieved when she heard sirens approaching.


One of the ambulances stopped so that Derek, Leo, and Cheryl could pick up Sunny Church, who did not want to go with them.

"Leave me alone," protested Sunny struggling against the two men.

"We're not trying to hurt you, honey," assured Leo Laxman.

Suddenly smiling lecherously, Sunny said: "You can both fuck me if you like! How about a chicken sandwich, with me as the meat?"

"What?" asked a startled Derek Armstrong, almost losing control of the thirteen-year-old girl.

"Daddy seemed to like fucking me! Although, I bashed his head in with a can of food afterwards."

"I don't blame you," said Cheryl Pritchard.

"No, not because he fucked me ... I liked that, he was very good. No, I found the can in the dark by accident, and it seemed like it would be fun to kill him with it," said the blonde.

She was silenced when Leo injected her with a strong sedative.

"There was no need to do that," protested Sunny: "I would have let you both fuck..." Then she drifted off to sleep.

"Okay, get her inside and we'll get her to the hospital," said Cheryl.

The ambulance started, then had to stop again, to allow other ambulances and police cars to enter the car park, before finally heading full speed toward the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

An ambulance with Jesus Costello pulled up outside the main entrance of the mall, followed by Terri Scott's police-blue Lexus, as well as other ambulances and police vehicles.

"So what's going down in Groove Town?" asked Sheila.

"Mayhem," said Lulu Wellins. She pointed through the glass doors to where the mall was now filled with the Darkening: "Some kind of crazy black fog seems to have filled the place, driving everyone insane."

"What happened to her?" asked a blond paramedic, Hugh Thomson, going over to where Sarah Macintosh lay on the concrete, still being looked after by Yancy and Brody.

"The fog drove her crazy, and she head-butted the glass doors," said Hiram P. Brody.

"She must have been travelling fast," said Hugh.

"Cathy Freeman wouldn't have caught her," said Hiram.

"Whatever that cloud is, it must give people an adrenalin rush as well as driving them insane," said Hugh: "The two often go together."

"If only we could get some of that stuff to test," said Tilly Lombstrom.

"|Have you got any sample jars with you?" asked Sheila.

"Yes," said Tilly. She held out a plastic jar with a screw-on lid.

"Gimme," said Sheila.

Snatching the jar, she removed the lid, and then before anyone knew what she was planning, the Goth chick raced into the mall, holding her breath to collect a sample of the now almost honey-thick black cloud. Then putting the lid on the jar she raced back outside.

"Here you go, Tils," said Sheila holding up the jar, now filled with part of the Darkening.

"Sheils, are you insane?" asked Tilly, taking the sample jar from her.

"Probably," said Sheila, showing Tilly her heart-shaped necklace saying: Mad Goth Chick.

"Well, we'd better take you to the hospital with Sarah."

After the ambulance left, the others stood around the main entrance, unsure what to do.

"So how do we get that bloody fog out of there?" asked Colin: "The longer it's in there, the more people will get killed, maimed, or raped."

"We could try locking the doors open and hope it flows out?" suggested Lulu Wellins.

"No, that stuff flowed into the mall of its own accord. It wasn't pushed in by the wind," reminded Hiram. He thought for a moment, then said: "Maybe we can reverse the air-conditioning and blow it out. The controls are just inside the rear door of the store, so we won't have to go through that fog to reach them."

"Then, let's go," said Terri, and they started to run around the mall to reach the rear.

Ten minutes later, Hiram unlocked the loading door and slowly entered the store:

"I can see into the corridor," he said: "The fog doesn't seem to have bothered with the unoccupied areas."

He stepped deeper into the corridor, unlocked the door to the air conditioning unit, and reversed the airflow. Then, he hurried back outside and slammed the door.

"Hopefully that will do it," said Hiram.

Less than a minute later, Lulu pointed at a large air grate overhead and said: "Look, it seems to be working."

They all looked up to where the dense black fog was slowly being swept out of the mall. From time to time, it stopped as though fighting the air conditioner, but soon there was no doubt Hiram Brody's plan was working.

"We'd better get around to the front of the store again," said Terri: "Before it starts coming after us."

With that, they set off again and soon reached the glass doors out front.

Peering through the glass doors, Lulu said: "The blackness seems to be thinning out a little."

It took nearly half an hour for the air conditioner to blow the Darkening completely out of the mall. But even before it had finished, the paramedics and police had tentatively entered the store to start helping the more seriously injured out to the ambulances.

It took them the rest of the day, then well into the night to transfer all of the injured to the hospital, and the dead to the morgue.


The next morning Terri, Colin, and Sheila got to the hospital early to find out what, if anything Tilly could tell them about the sample of the black fog.

"Whatever the stuff is," said Tilly: "It's neither organic nor inorganic."

"Ski-ence was never a strong subject with me at school," said Sheila: "But doesn't that rule out everything?"

"Yes, Sheils, it does. According to all the known laws of ski-ence, not only does this stuff not exist ... but it definitely cannot exist."

"But you've got some of it," pointed out Terri: "The mad Goth chick risked life and sanity to get it for you."

"Yes," said Tilly. She hesitated for a moment, then said: "That's what we ski-entists call a conundrum."

"Which is a fancy way of saying you don't have a firkin clue?" asked Colin.

"Yes," conceded Tilly.

"Well, if ski-ence can't explain it," said Sheila: "Maybe our witchy friend, Magnolia McCready, can."

"You'd stoop to witchcraft instead of science?" asked Tilly, sounding appalled.

"At this stage, we'd ask the Man in the Moon for advice, if no one else could help us," said Terri, as the three cops turned to leave.


Magnolia McCready lived at 1/21 Calhoun Street, Glen Hartwell; the right-hand half of a sub-divided yellow weatherboard house. In the front room, Magnolia, a tall busty redhead with electric-blue eyes, handed around coffee with melted marshmallows in it.

"So how can I help you this time?" asked Magnolia.

Terri quickly explained what had been happening, causing Magnolia to look puzzled.

"Don't think I can help you this time," said the Wiccan: "So I'll only charge you twenty bucks for the three coffees and marshmallows."

"We're back to bucks," said Sheila as Terri took a $20 note from her wallet: "Last time we were up to smackers."

Taking the note, Magnolia said: "Maybe you should try Bulam-Bulam, this might be more in his area. It certainly isn't any European, African, or Asian legend that I've ever heard of. And I know thousands of them."


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 on Chappell Street in town. He was restocking the shelves of his store when he saw Terri's blue Lexus through the window of the store.

As the Lexus pulled up, the old man was already heading outside.

"Is this a social visit, or do you want my help?" he asked.

"We need your help," admitted Terri: "Having just paid twenty bucks for three cups of coffee with marshmallows from Magnolia McCready, we were hoping you could be more helpful."

"Actually, that's not a bad price," said Bulam-Bulam with a grin: "Most shops in the area charge eight-fifty per cup for coffee with marshmallows."

Ignoring their friend's levity, Terri and Colin went on to relate to Bulam-Bulam the goings on lately with the black fog as they were still calling it.

"I risked my neck to get a sample of it for Tilly Lombstrom," said Sheila: "Only for her to say that not only does it not exist; but scientifically it cannot possibly exist."

"It sounds to me like you're dealing with what Dream-Time legends call the Darkening," said the elder: "A black fog-like cloud that can set around people to crush them to death, can melt away their bodies leaving only skeletons, or can drive them to murder and madness."

"That sounds like our black fog," said Terri: "Do you know any way to deal with it?"

"There is a ritual to call it to the corroboree grounds. However, there is only a fifty percent chance that we can send it back to the black dimensions that it comes from," said the old man: "And a fifty percent chance of it slaughtering, or driving to murder and madness everyone in the corroboree circle."

"I had a feeling the old geezer was going to say that," teased Sheila.

"I keep telling you, Sheils, since sixty is the new forty, I'm really only the new forty-five."

"Keep on telling yourself that, Grandpa," teased Sheila, slapping him on the back.


Two hours later they were ready to perform the Darkening ritual to call the black fog toward them. The ceremonial ground for the Gooladoo tribe was a circle ringed by great basalt stones three to four metres tall, with just a small entranceway.

"Before we start," said Bulam-Bulam: "We need absolute silence from the spectators ... That means you, mad Goth chick."

"Why do people always assume I'm a blabber puss?"

"Sheils, we all know you're a blabber puss," teased Colin.

While Terri, Colin, and Sheila sat inside the circle, Bulam-Bulam and twenty or so young bucks began dancing around a ceremonial fire in the centre of the circle while chanting the calling ritual.

From time to time, Bulam-Bulam threw a handful of powder into the ceremonial fire, which ignited with a flash.

For nearly an hour the dancers pranced round and round the fire, while the elder chanted, with no sign of any success. Until suddenly the atmosphere in the ceremonial area began to darken.

"Now it's do or die time," said Bulam-Bulam to Terri and co., before continuing the ritual.

Without even knowing it, Terri, Colin, and Sheila started holding hands, as the Darkness continued to flow into the ceremonial area until they were all blinded.

Bulam-Bulam and the braves had to dance blind, telling where the ceremonial fire was by its warmth alone. Until the Darkening had thickened enough to block out even that sensation, then thickened further until the Aborigines were forced to half swim and half walk through the sludgy mire of blackness. But even when the darkness became so gelid that they could no longer move around, Bulam-Bulam did not stop chanting and calling to Indigenous protector gods: Mamaragan, the Bunyip, Mother-Who-Made-Us-All, and many others.

Thirty-six yesterday, now dead today, thought Sheila Bennett as it had started to seem as though the ritual had failed, and the wrong fifty percent had come up.

Damn you, Colin for procrastinating, thought Terri: If we survive this, we had better get married before Christmas ... Or else!

Trying his best to ignore the foul machinations of the Darkening as it tugged and pulled at him, probed and poked at him, squeezed and tried to crush him, Bulam-Bulam steeled himself to continue with the ritual, even though it had become physically impossible for him to move through the now almost solid substance that held him, the braves, Terri and the others in place in its evil embrace of death.

Don't panic! thought Terri uncomfortable in the total darkness. She began squeezing Colin and Sheila's hands so firmly, that both winced silently, unable to tell her to loosen her grip a little.

Oh, Great Waramurungundju, Mother Who Made Us All! thought Bulam-Bulam, no longer able to speak aloud, let alone chant: Please save us from the evil that is the Darkening. Please send this evil gelid monstrosity back to its own world, its own dimension of darkness and chaos! Please remove it from Glen Hartwell, Great Waramurungundju. Please remove it from the Planet Earth, from the Milky Way Galaxy, from our universe! Please send it back to its own world, its own dimension of darkness and chaos!

Colin, Terri, and Sheila were unable to cry out in pain, however, as the Darkening continued to solidify, they screamed silently, expecting to be crushed to a bloody pulp like Giles Doohan and his merino sheep.

God, can't take much ... thought Colin, stopping as the vice-like grip of the Darkening slowly began to let up.

Oh, Great Waramurungundju, Mother Who Made Us All! thought Bulam-Bulam, as the Darkening began to wail as though in agony as the ritual began working, and ever so slowly the demon fog began to loosen its grip upon the natives and the three police officers.

"Oh, Great Waramurungundju, Mother Who Made Us All, thank you!" said Bulam-Bulam aloud; being able to speak again after what had seemed like hours of darkness, silence, and crushing.

The crushing had definitely relaxed, so the agony had reduced to a dull pain in all of the survivors -- unfortunately, two young bucks had been crushed to death! And Colin and the others were able to curse aloud for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

"I think it's starting to lighten up," said Sheila.

And as she said it, the Darkening started to fade awake, pulled from our universe into its own by Waramurungundju, Mother Who Made Us All!

Seeing some of the young bucks prostrate, Sheila, Terri, Colin, and Bulam-Bulam raced across to revive them. Except for the two who had been crushed to death by the Darkening.

"Is that it, mate," Terri asked Bulam-Bulam.

"I hope so," said the elder, only hoping it was.

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