Dedicated to Riley because he has been with this story from the beginning.
Before every chapter, I am going to add the song I mostly listened to while writing it. So that maybe the feel of the words may make more sense. Sounds weird I know. But it might help. :)
Throw some D's on that Blink by D.veloped.
Bay was a small town situated north of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. Now non-existent, the thriving town has since been sponged up by the outskirts of Brisbane. But Bay was a thriving town in the late 1960’s, with a population of perhaps 10, 000. A place of little event, but large community spirit, it housed many young students- one of them being Morgan Bowie.
Morgan had no siblings, but instead lived simply with his mother and father along Kirk Street, number 6 to be exact. Kirk Street was a dirt road, surrounded by dairy and sheep farms, just as many in Bay. The house itself was a tall, timber Queenslander, holding itself up on several stilts with two sets of stairs, one at the front revealing a stretch of deck, which was long and trailed along the width of the house, and the second set of stairs following the back wall, peaking at the kitchen door. Once up the stairs one could enter either into a front sunroom or through a set of French doors into Morgan’s bedroom. Then the house followed through to the lounge, main bedroom, spare bedroom and then finally at the back: the dining room, bathroom and kitchen.
The house was both spacious and light, owning dozens and dozens of windows, with a view of the several fields, mostly of the sheep and dairy cows. The Bowie family had no neighbours to be seen until the road took a bend onto a small housing estate, which was originally intended to be the new side of town, but the citizens had not agreed and simply did not develop around that area. Behind their house were two buildings; one used by Morgan’s father, Simon, as his woodwork shop, and the second was used by his mother, Fenella- who was a freelance photographer- as a black room.
Morgan was a clever boy, preferring to indulge in the likes of music. Nothing else really interested him as much as music did, not to any close degree, anyway. He would never be a handyman as his father was, and he didn’t have much of an eye for photography like his mother, although, he did own extensive knowledge to all about photography, as he had been watching his mother for the whole of his life.
Being only 13, he could not be sure of any career choice, but he certainly hoped it was something in the music genre. He played many instruments but didn’t have lessons for any, teaching himself via books to read music. And he secretly thought he had a natural talent for being able to do so. If only money from his mother’s freelancing allowed him to have lessons. But perhaps he preferred it this way. He surmised that he would be content with either manner.
Visually, he was quite an appealing figure, with a thin complexion, perfect skin and protruding cheekbones. Although, he did give the impression of a white sheet for he was almost unnaturally pale. His eyes were an ice blue, his dark brown hair cut so that it was longer at the front than the back, his lips naturally upturned, and this made him liked by most he came across. He mostly wore his leather boots with buckles, they were easy to lope about in, and a woollen cardigan. Always his woollen cardigan- he wouldn’t let another touch that jumper unless he trusted them to a strong level.
Morgan sat inside his bedroom, pondering his life. He watched the French doors, and arose to open them. As he slid them across, he watched the grass sway, thinking of his father.
Simon had left his wife and child three years ago- in 1965- when Australia sent their first soldiers into combat in the Phuoc Tuy Province.
Morgan went to his drawers to read his letters- he received about one a month. The latest ones did not contain much information as to what he was doing, but they did have a lot of what they were to do once he returned, in less than three months. He was looking forward to meeting him once again, and didn’t mind what they did as long as he was with his father.
Morgan had already outsmarted his father- as he was a high school dropout- but he was a lovely man with beautiful intentions toward the whole of humanity. A gentle man, he was the last who you might expect to fight in combat.