Diary of a song Pt 1

One night I wander out to the back yard on a moonless, starry, beautiful night.

It is the wee small hours in the semi rural outlier that is Monbulk in The Dandenong Ranges.

While out there I hear the blood curdling screams of a woman in a mortal struggle for her life.

The sound is coming from the property directly behind.

The impact is immediate. It is physical, visceral, it puts ice in my veins and it is all I can do to run inside to alert my sleeping partner and insist she come and hear for herself.

Of course by the time it takes to get outside the cry has stopped.

I'm mocked and jeered as much for my amorphous imagination as well as being the cause of being needlessly torn from the comfort of bed.

The following day provides no clues to the previous evenings sounds – there are no Police vans, no fuss, nothing.

What did I hear?

The most likely explanation is that it was a bird.

Some type of owl or maybe a curlew, but that's unlikely in Victoria.

Nevertheless that sound left it's mark, and that mark was to be the germ of a song.



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