Tall Tales and Tiny Wings

The butterfly effect. From the name one would presume a beautiful phenomenon, but instead it is truly terrifying. How one simple decision can cause catastrophic repercussions. It is said that a butterfly can flap their wings and cause a tsunami on the other side of the world. James discovered this concept accidentally, yet it undoubtedly changed his life. 

To do him and his story justice however, one must start at the beginning. 

Bellbrook was a small town. Rural, dusty, dry. Some would describe it as home, while others, the end of the world. But all would agree it was struggling. The cracked earth was a telltale of the drought that had riddled the town for years, eight to be exact; and the people weren't much better. Their skin hardened, leather-like, red-rimmed eyes. Even old Jack who was unshakeable was worried. Not that he would ever admit it, he was stoic to the very end. 

But this story is about James. A boy who knew no better. 

The town was so small that the few children residing there had to attend the local school of another town. Shuttled by a rickety minibus, James would arrive at the school at 8:00 on the dot exactly. Not by his punctuality but by that of Nancy, the retired bus driver who ran an unrelenting schedule shuttling school kids, the elderly and anyone in between. Late was not in her dictionary. So it was a morning similar to all the others as he stumbled off the bus that would transform his world - a feat that didn’t take much considering his small existence.

It was another hot, dry day. Incessant sweat stains masked by dust adorned school uniforms. Scuffed shoes and weather-worn hats complimented the dishevelled look. Even out there the rule stuck, no hat no play. Not that James would have played anyway, he was too old for such childish antics. Instead, under the limited shade of the jacaranda tree, he and his few friends traded stories of what they succumbed to on the weekend. Tom, while swimming in the local river, fought off a crocodile with his bare hands. Jan saw a ghost lurking on her back porch - again - this time looking oddly like her dead aunt and Ned swore he dreamt about the big bang, he just woke up too early to find out how it happened. 

None of their stories were true of course, but in a place with only your imagination as entertainment who was going to break it to them. As for James, he claimed he was bitten by a huge spider - potentially radioactive, but upon inspection, the four decided it was more likely a mosquito bite. Perhaps telling such tall tales was a coping mechanism in accepting reality, or perhaps it was just exciting, it doesn’t really matter in the end. 

Unlike lunch which came and went, the last period dragged on like the fly racing event held annually in the town hall. It was meant to take the mickey but judging by the shouts and jibes it was a little more than that, and some of those flies could crawl bleedin’ slow. James was grateful when the bell finally rang signalling the end of the school day. Streaming out to the front of the school he could see Nancy’s bus shudder to a halt, a cloud of dust exploding from the exhaust. That woman stuck to the schedule better than chewing gum stuck to the gum tree in the quadrangle. 

A shove and a jostle however and James could feel himself falling, his shoes untied, he tripped over the laces, his knees and palms making contact with the gravel. Pain shot through his arms and legs as he rolled over to assess the damage. Blood was already dripping down his legs. It looked like his knees had both been shredded with a cheese grater. Biting his lip, tears welling up, he hobbled to the bus aware of the mess he was. Nancy took one look at his mangled knees before telling him to get off her bus otherwise his knees won’t be the thing he’s crying about. 

“Go to the nurse, I don’t want to clean up your blood off these seats” she said. The same seats with missing stuffing, graffiti on the backseats and a constant smell of cigarettes. 

“Fine”. James knew she wouldn’t wait, she had better things to do - so now angry, frustrated and in pain he made his way back to the little building. The nurse - who also was the receptionist, canteen lady and librarian - (it was a small school and budget cuts didn’t help), was still in her office. She was a friendly, red-faced lady but the drought hadn’t been kind to her. Where she once had round plump cheeks, they now looked sallow and thin, but it didn’t stop her from smiling. 

“Oh my dear, what have we here?”, her fussing soon began to soothe James’ riled temper as she cleaned and dressed his minced knees. However it didn’t numb the fact that he would have to walk home, which was over seven kilometres through the bush with his busted knees in the blistering heat. The cold coke bottle the nurse gave him though did help. From her very own stash as well. They were almost as valuable as being King in handball when the bell rang, and certainly greater than the toffees Ms Marriott would give out for correct answers which always tasted slightly sour.

He could envision his friends being so impressed, even more impressed when he would tell them that he would have broken both his kneecaps had he not rolled over and saved himself in some awesome kung-fu style move. And how he had to be rushed to hospital after and could only walk on crutches for the next eight weeks. They didn’t have to know that he hobbled his way home and that the crutches he brought to school would be the ones stashed in the attic from his sister’s old injury.  

And so it was with spirits slightly higher he began his journey back home. It was a unique shortcut between the towns known only by James and his posse. He liked to think he was the leader although he probably wasn’t. Jan was much smarter after all. 

He cursed himself for drinking the coke too quickly, apart from the acidic burps and rumbling stomach it meant that he had no way to cool himself. Trudging through the sparse bushland, the effect of the drought was obvious. The landscape, once a myriad of greens - light, dark, forest and fern - now washed in red and brown. The crunching of dry leaves underfoot seemed to be the only accompanying score, overtime the birdsongs had faded - even they couldn’t cope with the parched land. 

James had almost reached the halfway point when he saw the snake lazily crossing the path. It certainly wasn’t his first encounter with one but he wasn’t overly fussed with them either. Unlike his Uncle Mike who willingly collected them in his basement - then again Uncle Mike probably wasn’t a comparable figure. He had been banned from family gatherings after mooning the whole family at Christmas. Afterward he claimed it was his christmas present to everyone but James had just thought that was a really cheap way of getting out of gift-giving. Either way he didn't want the snake going after him, so flinging the coke bottle near the snake to scare it James planned on running past. Despite the hopeful intentions this only made the snake aware of him and possibly a little angry, so it was then when he came up with another great plan. Jump over the snake.

With little thought - characteristic of James, he ran and leapt, the adrenaline masking the throbbing in his hands and knees. His stupid plan did work but that didn’t stop him running for the next half mile and by the time he decided it was safe to walk he was shattered. Limping home, the adrenaline dissipated. It was a painful walk, not assisted by the sweat he could feel dripping into his wounds. 

He had missed his soccer practice, not that the team was any good; but at least mum had made spaghetti bolognaise, a family favourite which she swore would heal his knee just as well as any medicine. It was a family recipe afterall. 

It had been at school when the announcement was made. But everyone could smell it already. A fire. There was a sense of inevitability. Afterall they were living in a tinderbox just waiting for lightning to strike. Except as it turns out, it wasn’t lightning which caused it. It was glass. A coke bottle to be specific, because glass at the right angle can create flames and once flames begin there’s no stopping the beast. 

The little school and little town were evacuated while the smoke was still rising, before the freight train of fire started accelerating. Water Cannons, the SES, rural firefighters, volunteer firefighters. It was all hands on deck to contain the roar. Some chose to stay and defend their homes against the faceless enemy but James’ mother would have none of it. 

“You have two minutes before the engine is going and I’m driving”. What does a teenage boy grab in this devastating scenario? His ps4, nintendo switch, basketball and headset. Priorities of course. 

It wasn’t until weeks later, when the fire had consumed all that it could and the charred remains were left, did the investigation begin. When it was finally traced back to the glass bottle, arson was ruled out and the investigation officially dismissed as reckless littering but that didn’t ease the tightness James felt in his chest. He knew he was responsible for the devastation that had followed. Old Jack had lost his house and Ned’s dog Brumby had gone missing. Acres of bushland had been burned along with those animals who couldn’t escape.

James had never experienced such perpetual guilt. He was even beginning to lose sleep over it which was novel considering he was known for being able to sleep anywhere, in a car, a bus, even on a toilet in sixth grade camp. Initially he had been grateful to not be reprimanded but as the days oozed into weeks it didn’t get any easier. 

School was a constant reminder of the damage caused. Smoke stained walls of the school juxtaposed with the brand new replacement tables and chairs. He was holding onto this secret so tightly it seemed to be consuming him from the inside, so he did the only thing he could think of, he confessed. 

At recess, a morning like many others, sitting under the jacaranda tree he broke the news. How he had been the one to throw the coke bottle into the bush, and how he had been the one to cause the fire and how this knowledge had been crushing him. And just like every other morning, Tom, Jan and Ned exchanged wild and wacky adventures and not another thought was given to the possibility that James may have actually been telling the truth.

James felt content with his efforts, he had tried - and noticeably failed - to confess, but regardless of whether he was believed or not, he had felt a palpable sense of relief. 

Had he tied his shoelaces that afternoon he probably wouldn’t have fallen, and wouldn’t have grazed his knees and wouldn’t have missed the bus. So he wouldn’t have been patched up by the nurse who wouldn't have given him a coke bottle and he wouldn’t have crossed paths with the snake and been forced to throw the bottle and run for his life. And old Jack would still have a home and Ned would still have a dog and the school wouldn’t still smell of smoke. But old Jack’s home had gone up in flames, and Ned’s dog disappeared, and the school would smell of smoke for months no matter how many windows were opened.

James had made an irreparable impact on both the community and environment and while time passed in the little town of Bellbrook he could never truly look old Jack in the eye again, or visit Ned’s house without having his stomach drop at the photo of their four-legged friend hanging in the hall. Because such small actions can culminate into something so much bigger, much like a butterfly causing a tsunami on the other side of the world.