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    Direct Speech in One Stray Bullet

    Uploaded by

    Christine Winderlich
    Direct Speech

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Direct Speech in One Stray Bullet

    Uploaded by

    Christine Winderlich
    380 views1 page
    Direct Speech

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    © © All Rights Reserved

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    DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

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    Direct Speech

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    380 views1 page

    Direct Speech in One Stray Bullet

    Uploaded by

    Christine Winderlich
    Direct Speech

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 1

    Direct speech in ‘One stray bullet’ direct speech

    verbs or taglines
    One stray bullet (Pages 29–32 of Black Snake by Carole Wilkinson) describing emotion
    What if you were there …
    The day had seemed no different to any other. Mother and I had spent it washing the sheets
    and making quince jam. We had just eaten our dinner. I was rocking the baby, looking down
    at her innocent sleeping face, thinking here’s another mouth to feed, but also another sister.
    Funny how a new baby can appear in the family, a stranger, unable to speak or do anything
    but cry, but within two days you can’t help but love them fiercely. My mother was heaping
    coals on the fire around the bread she was baking. The yeasty smell was starting to
    overpower the smell of smoke. My brother Daniel had come in late and was still eating.
    There was a knock at the door. I waited for Daniel to get up and answer it, but he made no
    move, concentrating on demolishing the plate of stew in front of him. I sighed and gently
    lowered the baby into her cradle — actually a fruit box on roughly cut rockers. Another more
    insistent knock and Danny finally hauled himself up and over to the door, still holding his
    knife and fork and yelling, ‘Can’t a man eat in peace?’
    Dan opened the door, ‘I’ve come to arrest you, Dan Kelly, on a charge of horse stealing.’ I
    recognised our visitor’s voice. It was Constable Fitzpatrick from Benalla. I’d met him before at
    the Sports Day. I’d thought him quite handsome at the time.
    Danny glanced back at mother and me. ‘Can I at least finish my dinner?’ he said. No one
    invited him in, but Fitzpatrick came in anyway. He didn’t bother to take off his helmet.
    Mother turned to the trooper, her hands on her hips, her face red from the fire. ‘Where’s the
    warrant, then?’ she demanded. She turned to Dan. ‘You shouldn’t have let him in if he’s got
    no warrant.’
    ‘It’s all right, Mother,’ Danny said calmly, sitting down at the table again and scraping up the
    last of his stew. ‘Is that bread ready yet?’
    Mother pulled the loaf of bread from the fire and put it on the table. Danny wasn’t in a hurry.
    He hacked an inch-thick slice from one end and used it to mop up his gravy. He drained his
    tin mug of tea. Finally he pushed his chair away from the table. ‘I’ll just get my coat.’
    Danny went into the other room. Mother followed him, still protesting that he didn’t have to go
    anywhere if there was no warrant. Constable Fitzpatrick came over to where I was sitting
    with the baby. He leaned his sweaty face towards me. I smelt brandy on his breath and the
    stale smell of a shirt needing a good wash.
    ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’ I pushed him away. Fitzpatrick staggered back onto a chair. He
    reached out and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me onto his lap. ‘Get your greasy hands
    off me,’ I yelled.
    Danny and mother rushed back into the room. I was thrown to the floor as Fitzpatrick stood
    up. Mother, screaming abuse at the policeman, picked up the coal shovel and brought it
    crashing down on his helmet while he was still fumbling to get his revolver out of its holster.
    Danny dived at the gun. At that moment the door was flung open and Ned was standing in
    the doorway. There was a flash and a crack as the gun went off. Fitzpatrick screamed out like
    a girl. The revolver had gone off as Dan grappled to take it from Fitzpatrick. A bullet had
    nicked the trooper’s wrist. My brothers were on their knees holding him down. They both had
    guns held at his head.
    ‘If you touch my sister again,’ said Ned, his voice trembling with rage. ‘There’ll be a bullet in
    your head next time.’
    Kate Kelly, Ned’s sister
    Text © 2005 Carole Wilkinson
    From BLACK SNAKE by Carole Wilkinson
    Reproduced by permission of Walker Books Australia

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