DAY TWELVE

LOST

 

                       

                       -> smooth red coat

                       -> quiet natured, enjoys being outside

                       -> last seen in the alley behind Piper St

                       -> responds to the name "Pouncer"

                       If found, please ring the bell.

NIGHT ELEVEN

They sat together upon the top of the hill overlooking Newcastle. 

From this vantage it was possible for them to see the entire lay of the land stretching out generously before their eyes. The glowing city huddled amongst the dark mountains presenting itself to them like a beautifully couched crown. Beneath the velvetly cloak of the night its tightly packed suburbs twinkled like clusters of jewels embedded in dense black earth. Stockton Bridge took up its graceful arch over the river where lights, like flecks of gold, helped navigate sleepy cars back to their sleepy homes. 

From up here it was hard to tell that the city was industrious and full of matter-of-fact people living matter-of-fact lives. Its soft flicker belied its history, a city driven by the coal industry. The laden coal trains heavily snaked their way through the back streets traversing the psyche of its inhabitants. It seemed to have an accumulative affect on the people here - all stoney faced, resilient to time and its weathering effects. 

But tonight up here beneath the sweep of stars all she saw was a glittering gem. 

He leaned in closer to her making sure his soft sentiments were heard.

"You're a diamond amongst all this Newcastle coal."

DAY TEN

- man, your stall is amazing.

- oh, cheers man.
- do you manage to set up shop here each week?
- um, yeah, i try to. i mean, i have been collecting a lot lately so the stall is kind of brimming over with life at the moment. but, sometimes it's hard to get here so regularly. y'know, in between working and life...and all the rest.

- heh, yeah, i hear ya. i'm just amazed at how much stuff you have. where does it all come from?

- hmm, i manage to unearth it somehow, y'know, scavange a bit from here, a bit from there. but i guess, now that i think about it, a large portion of it is sourced through work.

- oh? yeah?

- yeah. it's a pretty lucrative job if you've got an eye for buried treasure. i mean, its sort of a case of the quick or the dead, but on most days i'm able to pick up all sorts of odds and ends that other people don't really have a need for anymore.

- wow, to think some people just get rid of this stuff. man, some people are so wasteful. 'spose it works in your favour though; their loss is your gain. 
- hah, yeah. you could say that.
- what do you do for a crust?

- i'm a mortician.