Trail of Ants

A globule of pink ice cream evaded his podgy chin, while his right hand gripped the accelerator of Coffee Pot, a small racing-green steam train. He thrust the engine, ‘Full steam ahead!’ Elderly passengers were choked with fear, as the chubby five year old hurled them along the 1-mile jetty. The rearmost passengers were sprayed with milky tea, and splattered by soggy slices of cucumber. Little Johnny went pale, ‘There’s a hole in the track!’ He slammed his eyes tightly shut. When he reopened them, Coffee Pot was rattling through the sky, high above the blue ocean. They swooped over pelicans, which bobbed above lagoon sharks, which circled shoals of shimmering fish. Clouds of tiny white shells sprinkled the air, and a pod of excited dolphins leapt upwards. Smoking camp fires signalled the way and mutterings erupted, of monkeys, eagles, and journeys back in time. Continue reading ‘The Locals of Shark Bay’