my girragundji

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There 's a bad spirit in our house. The hairy man. The hair man in our house is bad. He's as ugly as ugly get and stinks. You touch this kind of hairy man and you lose your voice or choke to death or just die, the hairy man grab one of my sisters
I know where he is by the sound of on his feet on the lino. (hairy man)stoop,stoop stoop
lie in bed and hold my knees together tight for as long as I can . Sometimes it can't. I'm real shame, too. I know the truth. I'm still a bed-wetter.
plop! It hopped. Now it's on my forehead. PLOP, again. It's on my cheek. it's...it's... the green slime. Oh no! A slow and painful death. No... It's...frog? A frog! A little, green, tree frog. A beautiful little girragundji
my dad turns to me. It's time you learnt to to kill food to eat, my boy.' So this is it. I wish my girragungji was here. We walk down to the edge of the sea. Dad gets me a to grab the turtle. He shows me how to flip him on his back and take him by the throat.
I flick open the louvres. It's her, calling out like death from under the house where the water comes up. Fear grabs at my heart and squeezes tight . That water brings the snake A snake has got her, my girragundji, I know it has.

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