Julianne opened her eyes and stretched her legs under the warm blankets on her bed, looking out the bedroom window at the rolling grey sky and the magnificent tall gumtrees dancing in the wind, the leaves always seemed to be whispering a secret language we have long forgotten.
This weather and mystic dance of the bush was something unique to this place, a little coastal town called Denmark, in Western Australia. Julianne began her usual morning routine, the kettle singing its own song as it boiled, she felt it was strangely soothing against the wind and trees, the little branches falling on the tin roof, and the sun filtering through the kitchen window.
Which is the moment she saw something…
Julianne edged closer to the window, squinting her eyes, and scanning the low laying scrub, sure she had seen something unfamiliar. But then her big old tom cat emerged from the native wisteria, his ginger fur standing out against the darkness as he ran along the old wire fence line, looking for a hole to fit his wide stocky body through.
She sighed to herself as she turned her attention back to the boiling kettle, just as she picked it up and began to pour the steaming water into her mug, she heard a visceral howl coming from outside!
The old rusty fence shook and vibrated like a violin string, tufts of orange fur floating through the air like sunrise clouds, and the horrifying image of Julianne’s cat having his lifeless body dragged away into the bushes by what looked like a gigantic beast.
Julianne’s gaze was only broken by the scolding hot water burning her hand, she could not believe her own eyes, what had she just witnessed? She found herself saying out loud…I think I just saw a panther…devour my cat!
But surely it could not be a panther, how could it be? Here in Australia, it just was not possible…was it?
Over the other side of town, up on the hill where the roads twist and wind, higher and higher until you can see all the way to the vast blue ocean, one of the oldest residents of the area, combed her long silver hair, its coarseness sounding like leaves being crushed underfoot with each stroke of the comb.
Ailu, had immigrated to Australia as a child, but no-one quite knew from where exactly, she liked to keep to herself high up on the hill, tending to her wild garden of musk-coloured hollyhocks, fragrant herbs and lush fruit trees peppering the green slopes. The old woman was well liked by the people in town, she was always stopping to make the children laugh or to offer fruit from the bounty of her garden, pulling glistening red apples, plump oranges, and jewel like plums, from the woven basket hanging from the crook of her arm, handing them out proudly to those she passed.
After plaiting her moon kissed locks, wrapping them high upon her head, and securing them with a silver pin, Ailu made her usual walk down from the hill and into town, she passed the troubled looking Julianne, who had her head downcast as she bustled across the road.
“Wait! Julianne, slow down!” Ailu called out.
“What is troubling you? Your face has freed itself of colour” she stated in her broken English, and unique way of conveying herself.
“I have seen something truly horrifying… I honestly do not know how to explain it. I feel like maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, but I swear this morning I saw a giant black cat…l cannot believe I am saying this out loud, but a panther…pull my old tom cat through the garden fence” said Julianne, her voice cracking and shaking.
Ailu paused for a moment and tilted her head, so much so, that her ropes of plaited hair looked as though they might topple from her head.
“Here, have an apple” she said smiling, as she handed out the perfect red globe, and continued her way across the street.
Stories of this monstrous cat began to spread through the town, and not for the first time. There had always been talk of a gigantic panther or leopard in the great southern, the towns folk had many explanations, from escaped circus animals to the wealthy becoming bored with their small yapping dogs and exotic birds, instead acquiring large cats from far away lands in the late nineteenth century. In all explanations for these big cats, they have escaped their cages, and started to populate the bushland freely, making themselves known every so often by killing farm animals or by peering through the trees with their glowing yellow eyes.
Even the toughest, and roughest told glorified stories of these wild beasts, by being chased down dirt tracks and through the thick tea tree, into the amber abyss of brackish dam water, only for the pursuing animal to vanish into thin air, leaving these old farmers a heaving mess, in their mud filled work boots and sodden flannelette shirts.
One such farmer named Willy, a six-foot five tower of a man, with a voice like gravel, in his moth-eaten leather hat filled with so many holes, it was a wonder that it even still classified as a hat at all, claims to have been faced to face with these giant cats of legend more than once.
He tells tales of driving down isolated back roads past the old wood mill in his rusty ute, the kind that feature in outback horror movies no less, and stunning this panther in his spotlights, before it ran off into the darkness, missing his opportunity to turn it into a roadkill dinner.
Now, Willy was afraid of nothing, in fact most of the townspeople were afraid of him! People still talk about the night he burst into the town’s only tavern, the owner of which was very proud, with its polished hardwood bar tops, pool tables and raw log posts holding up the heavy tin roof, the same posts that Willy had taken a chainsaw to… yes, that’s right… a roaring chainsaw.
With legs parted to balance himself, and laughing maniacally, Willy wielded this tool of destruction at the beautiful raw logs, while the owner of the tavern fell to his knees, nearly having a heart attack…failing to notice that Willy had taken the chain off the chainsaw.
It is only natural to presume that if Willy did indeed get his hands on that panther, he would not only have enjoyed an unusual bushfire stew but would have worn its pelt in place of that beaten up leather hat and had his fun terrorising people for years to come, peering through loungeroom windows and chasing schoolchildren during recess, laughing hysterically under all the fangs and fur.
He may have even put some extra pockets in there for a few cold beers, to quench the thirst brought on by all that fun.
But not everyone was so brave in the face of this feline legend, not the horse-riding instructor who watched on as it used her mailbox as a scratching post, and not her students who galloped the horses as fast as they could along the most isolated stretches of dirt road, forever imagining that enormous cat hot on their tracks, just waiting to pounce.
Mourning the loss of her old ginger tom cat, Julianne decided it was time to get a new companion, she decided a pink and grey galah would be more fitting, they live for such a long time, and she could even teach it to talk. Julianne found herself feeling so lonely most of the time, her husband Patrick was often busy, or just all-together dismissive of her… sometimes she wondered if he had someone else, maybe a woman much younger than herself.
Julianne emptied these thoughts from her mind and sought to find some clarity amongst the strange and tragic events of the week, putting on her coat and preparing herself for the drive to the next town over to collect her new feathered friend.
As she drove towards the bridge over the river, she saw Patrick’s car coming down from the hill, the one where the road twists and winds…what was he doing up there? She thought, he should be at work, and that is in the opposite direction.
Again, Julianne emptied her mind, preferring to give Patrick the benefit of the doubt, maybe he had to run some kind of errand? Surely there was some innocent explanation, she was feeling the guilt wash over her of being a jealous wife, of being untrusting and suspicious. Shifting herself in her seat, adjusting her glasses upon her fine nose and taking a deep breath, Julianne continued driving.
“Hello” said Charlie, as the soft cotton veil was pulled gently from his wire cage. Julianne was in absolute adoration of her new galah’s dusty pink feathers, framed by hues of smoky grey. She decided to keep Charlie inside by her kitchen, that way she could teach him new words and ensure he was safe inside her home.
Safe from the panther roaming her garden.
The next morning Julianne awoke to the sun reflecting vibrant rainbows off the beautiful blown glass ornaments in her window, ornaments that Patrick had given her long ago, from a holiday together in Europe. She smiled to herself as she thought about those happy times together, which was abruptly wiped from her face when she noticed that once again, he was not laying next to her in their bed.
Maybe he had to start work early or had decided to go to the beach for an early morning walk. Julianne pulled herself out of bed feeling the comfort of being able to share the morning with her new companion. She put on her robe and slippers, almost floating down the stairs in anticipation.
When she reached the kitchen, her jaw slowly dropped, her eyes widened, and a small shriek squeezed its way out of her dry throat.
Nothing could have prepared Julianne for what lay waiting in the kitchen, the pink feathers she so adored now a deep crimson red, the cage a twisted ball of wire… with tufts of black fur caught between the jagged edges, and mighty paw prints of blood leading out through the back door, which was swaying in the gentle breeze, such a contrast to the brutality in front of her.
Julianne wasted no time in putting on her clothes, all the while tripping over the phone cord as she tried to call Patrick at work, fumbling over the buttons with her shaking hands. She was unable to reach him and so without trying a second time, grabbed her car keys off the bench, breathlessly sobbing as she ran out the door.
On the other side of town, where the roads twist and wind, Ailu combed her long silver hair, as what looked like flecks of dried tree sap, fell from her comb and onto the wooden floor. She prepared for her usual walk into to town, styling her locks, but this time as a braid that cascaded down her back.
Just as before, Ailu caught sight of Julianne, rushing across the road. “Wait! What is wrong?” Ailu asked, “Your face is not free from colour today, in fact it is quite red!”
“I have no time to talk! I need to see the ranger, or the police! I don’t know which, but the beast has been in my home! in my own home!” Julianne replied with anguish.
“Wait!” called out Ailu.
Julianne thrust herself around, and just stared in disbelief that this woman could not see she had more pressing issues. For the first time Julianne studied the woman’s face, smoother and plumper than her own, with bright eyes and beautiful wild hair, that she had never seen unpinned, with an unusual black streak amongst the moonlit glow.
“Here, have an apple” said Ailu, but as she pulled out that perfect red jewel, a single grey feather fell from her basket and gently spiralled to the black bitumen on the road. The colours sparking a familiar scene in Julianne’s mind, she slowly looked up and the two women’s eyes met, Ailu smiled as she offered the fruit in her outstretched hand.
“Birds just love apples” Ailu stated.
Julianne turned and ran back to her car on the other side of the road, she got in and slammed the door, sobbing. Now she thought that she was certainly going mad, was all this loneliness a catalyst for her mind to play tricks on her? Pulling herself together, Julianne wiped her eyes and put the key in the ignition. Then through the dusty windscreen she saw Patrick, again coming down from the hill.
Julianne was now sure he was up to something, and with someone. She sped home, now unsure if the carnage she saw that morning was even real. She flung open the door and ran into the kitchen, but to her horror, the mess of tangled wire and feathers still lay on the floor, but something caught her eye, glistening against the birdseed in what was once the bottom of poor Charlie’s cage.
A silver hair pin.
Julianne held it up between her fingers and studied it in the light.
Then Patrick burst through the door, “Julianne! What happened? I was told that you frantically called me at work, I was caught up in the meeting room, are you ok?” he asked.
But Julianne could hardly take in a word he said, all she could focus on was the glistening red apple in his hand.
