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It Isn’t Me.

May 22, 2011

A mate I grew up with, Aboriginal bloke , we were camping and I went for a pee on a dark night.
We were way inland behind some rock hills, tall dead cane grass was everywhere and couldn’t see far.
After I relieved myself I heard my mate calling me, but it was away from the camp.
It was strange as I’d left him in camp.
I waited.
He called again, no mistaking his voice. I called back and started walking out toward him. This went on for a little while, changing direction sometimes, caling me on.
Suddenly someone grabs me and I leap outta my skin and spin around. I have already realised I have walked deep into the cane grass and am disorientated. My poor sphincter has taken a bite outta my shorts.
It is a very sombre face, my mates face, deadly serious.
I’m thrown into confusion, I’m a little angry “What are you doing, you’re out in front of me, how did you get behind me?”
He says “It isn’t me.”
We stand still, it’s completely silent.
I’m starting to get mad but I can see the fear in his face. I wait.
Sure enough, his voice calls again.
Now, I am f*rken freaked.
I’m all wide eyed and staring at him.
He whispers “Bad spirit, we’ll go back to camp straight away”
If I knew where the **** the camp was I would have run straight up his back to get there.
At the camp he tells of how for eons this has happened, people get called away by familiar voices, sometimes they make it back to tell what happened and sometimes if they are young they perish.
I know what I experienced so there is no denying it but I always console myself with the explanation that it is some type of mimicing bird.
If he hadn’t heard me and come tracked me down….well….

– Posted by Yonk; Australian 4WD Action

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