Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and co.
A/N This is just something that popped into my head after doing an assignment on this poem, and reading some fanfiction
The Dream
oOo
Bill dreamt…
Once there was a rather dirty, jolly swagman called Bill, and as he was walking down a long, lonely, dusty, dirty road looking for a place to rest his feet for the coming night, he paused and looked up at the twilight sky. It was a lovely orangey-purple, and the clouds just highlighted the effect.
The adventures of this swagman had come about, because of his wandering nature. Never staying in one place, always moving wherever the wind and amount of work took him. He'd decided to go in that particular way, because of a gut feeling of good things to come.
He came upon a billabong and, deciding it was a good enough place to stop, he stopped, put down his swag, and set up his billy for tea. While he was sitting in the shade of a coolabah tree, he was singing as he watched and waited for his billy to boil. Just then, a jumbuck appeared at the edge of the billabong for a drink. Bill jumped up, as quick as anything, and snagged the jumbuck for his tucker. He sat down with the jumbuck in his hands after wringing the poor things neck and got to work at skinning it. After that was done, he decided to cut it up and smoke it over his modest fire. A few hours later, it was finally done, so he ate some and stowed the rest in his tucker bag.
A new day dawned as Bill slowly woke up. He just sat there, watching the magnificent sunrise. Even more wonderful than the sunset of the day before. After a while, he felt hungry and he got a bit of the smoked jumbuck meat (from the night before) out of his tucker bag and ate it.
Very nice. Lovely and good and succulent. He thought.
He stood up, stretched, and wandered to the billabong's edge to bathe. As he stripped, he noticed a slight chill in the air, but shrugged it off and jumped on in. Bill scrubbed himself with some soaproot he'd found at the water's edge to get himself clean. An hour passed while he was washing, and he lazily lifted himself out and dried off.
He redressed, and lay down to admire the stunning blue of the sky. Gradually, though, he became aware of some sound that did not exactly belong in the scenery he was currently residing in. so he sat up, and listened more carefully. His practiced ears caught the sounds of hoof beats and a voice - voices? – calling for the jumbuck. Bill felt momentarily guilty, but shoved away the feeling as it was for his own survival that he'd killed it.
Suddenly, the hoof beats and voices were closer than before, and then, they were over the crest of the hill, riding down to no doubt question him on his presence. He sat up warily and shifted to sit on a conveniently placed log.
As the people came thundering down the hill, he became slightly nervous at who they were; The squatter mounted on his thoroughbred that must have owned the sheep, and three death eaters, undoubtedly there to arrest him and send him to Azkaban. Or something.
As they neared, one yelled out
"Hey! Who's that jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag belong to?"
Immediately following this demanding question, Bill jumped up and shouted back:
"Most like it's the squatters" he said this derisively "but you'll never catch me alive to pay!"
After this declaration, he promptly jumped straight into the billabong he'd camped by. Unlike the troopers, the squatter was not totally immune to the sight of the swaggie drowning, so he watched on in horrified detachment as Bill lost consciousness and sank deeper into the watery depths.
Many times after that incident, people would swear as they passed by the billabong, that they heard the poor swaggie singing to himself and his matilda.
oOo
"Gah!" yelled Bill as he pulled out of his dream and thudded out of his bed and onto the floor, still feeling like he was drowning.
His heart was still racing as his wife Fleur peered over the edge of the bed.
"What's the matter?" she asked sleepily, gazing down at him.
As his heart rate slowed, he answered her. "Nothing…though that's the last time I'm reading that particular poem right before bed!"
"Ok dear, come and sleep more now, and try to forget about your nightmare." Saying this, she patted the space beside her on the bed they shared. Bill shakily climbed up beside her and they both fell asleep once again.
oOo
please review and comment, give feedback, or anything, really…