ANNOUNCEMENT: Cheryl Williss wins the first WWWC
We're thrilled to be able to announce the winner of the very first Wakefield Weekly Writing Competition: Cheryl Williss. Cheryl's response to the prompt 'Moving Around' has it all: astronauts, spirits, and a healthy dose of nostalgia for Adelaide in the late 60s.
Read Cheryl's winning entry below.
On the day I was born the moon was new and had moved into the seventh house. Interesting facts I didn’t know back in 1969.
In 1961, Jack Kennedy told the world that by the end of the decade America would have a man on the moon. Eight years later I was almost a teenager and in my first year at high school when, at the beginning of a winter school week – the morning of Monday 21 July 1969 to be precise – the entire school was rustled up for assembly. We were delighted to hear our headmaster announce that on this historic occasion we could all head home again and turn on our television sets. The American astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were about to walk on the moon. Of course we had heard it on the radio that morning. The Eagle had landed. We all jumped up and down and cheered. No more school today!
My good friend Meg came home with me. Nobody else was there. Mum and Dad had gone to work and my sisters were at university. After foraging in the kitchen for the biscuit caddy we headed for the lounge. I turned the dial that switched on our Philips – luckily it was in good form. Occasionally it broke down and we’d have to telephone for the repair man. But he could always be relied on to turn up the same day. In his trusty grey dustcoat he would tinker around with the transmission for a while and then all would be well again.
But this unexpected respite from the classroom begged another opportunity. Meg and I were going to have a séance. I fetched the Scrabble set from my bedroom and a glass tumbler from the kitchen while Meg shut the lounge room blinds.
As the moon rose above the horizon, and a giant radio telescope in the New South Wales town of Parkes battled a howling gale, black and white signals were transmitted from the Eagle back to Australia, before crossing the Pacific to be beamed from television sets around the world. Roughly 600 million, or 20 per cent of the planet’s human population would see those men walking on the moon. The other 80 per cent either couldn’t afford a television, or the repair man hadn’t arrived in time.
So there we were, Neil more than 340,000 kilometres away taking his giant leap for mankind in front of our very eyes, and Meg and me conducting a séance as we sat cross-legged on the Axminster carpet in a Housing Trust home in suburban Brighton, Adelaide, South Australia.
While Neil was bounding about, waiting for his fellow astronaut Buzz to join him, Meg and I were making acquaintance with a guest from the spirit world. She told us her name was Nora. We asked Nora loads of questions, and she seemed delighted to respond. Our fingertips struggled to keep up with the upturned glass swiftly moving around the retro laminated coffee table searching for Scrabble tiles. Fortunately Nora’s spelling could not be faulted. Meg and I were both in Class 1A, and it would have been disappointing to communicate with a spirit of lower intellect.
Time moved forward. So many questions! I regret to say we never thought to discover Nora’s story. And although she was from the past, we took it for granted that she could see into the future. Will the astronauts get back to Earth safely? Will Gary from 2A ask me to the school social?
But eventually Meg and I moved on to deeper enquiry, challenging Nora to concentrate a little harder. As our questions became, dare I say it, controversial, we became aware of some hesitance in Nora’s response. Still, we persisted. But eventually I guess we just went a little too far.
Nora, are you in Heaven? We held our breath. A metaphorical silence as the glass played statues. Hello? The glass stood stubborn, motionless. Meg and I began to panic. Nora? Are you there Nora? Nora, are you still there? But no, clearly Nora didn’t want to play anymore. We had upset our new friend. And then …
As Neil and Buzz were moving around the Sea of Tranquility having their own spiritual experience, back on the home planet there was bedlam in my family lounge.
I knew Meg had seen it too. We looked up at each other at exactly the same time. Our eyes bulged and our jaws gaped at exactly the same time. We both leaped to our feet at exactly the same time – and together we bolted for the front door. We ran out into the street, down the street, around the corner of the street. Meg and I kept on running until we could run no more. We huffed and we puffed. Did you see … Did you see …
From the centre of the base of the upturned glass, a wisp of what I can only describe as a white cloud had spiralled upwards about ten centimetres. I don’t know how much further it went, if at all, because within a split-second Meg and I had taken our own giant leaps and fled the scene. We agreed with no argument that the séance was herewith terminated. But we had no way of knowing if Nora had, shall we say, left the building. For all we knew she could be moving around the house casing the joint. Or she could be sitting on the Axminster watching Neil and Buzz.
We decided that catching a train to the city was a better way to spend what we had left of the day. The nearest railway station was only a five-minute walk away. But there was just one problem – I needed to lock up the house. In trepidation we turned and retraced our steps. I left Meg in the comparative safety of the street as I tiptoed through the front door, grabbed my keys, switched off Neil and Buzz and made another speedy exit, pulling a locked door behind me.
When the train reached the city a half hour later we paused to grab a late lunch at the Pie Cart outside the station, before moving on to Rundle Street. After an hour dodging traffic – no Rundle Mall in those days – as well as crowds of shoppers jostling for front row positions in front of televisions lined up in store windows, we headed to Victoria Square and caught a tram back to Meg’s house at Glenelg. Fortunately Meg’s older sister had her driver’s licence and she kindly offered to take me home.
None of my family were home yet, so I had to face the remains of the séance alone. My heart struck up a mighty pounding as I proceeded to remove any evidence of Nora. The offending tumbler was deposited into the kitchen sink for somebody else to clean. I packed the Scrabble set and raised the window blinds. I even opened all the windows. After all, the house had been closed up for hours. On the other hand, if Nora had managed to escape a glass tumbler, an open window was probably unnecessary. But strangely, with the outside air moving in – and the air within moving out – I was at last able to calm down.
Meg and I never spoke of our strange encounter again.
It was as though the séance never happened. And for years I mentioned our spooky moment to no one. When eventually I did share my secret, not one person believed me. I’m sure you don’t either. But all these years later I remember that moment. I know what I saw spiralling up before my eyes – how could I ever forget? But I have no idea what it was. I haven’t seen Meg since our schooldays, but I often wonder if she remembers it too. I mean, how could she not? Surely anyone who is old enough remembers where they were the day those two American astronauts walked upon the moon.
About the author
Cheryl Williss grew up in Adelaide's beachside suburb of Brighton. She is sixth-generation South Australian with several families arriving in the first three years of colonial settlement. Cheryl has long held a keen interest in South Australia's social history, particularly women's history and the untold stories. Her contributions to the biographical HerStory project appear on the websites SA History Hub and Adelaidia, and she is the current editor of the quarterly newsletter of the Kangaroo Island Pioneers Association. Cheryl is delighted to be chosen as inaugural WWWC winner, her recent decision to retire from the world of accounting to concentrate on her writing now vindicated.
Cheryl has three books published with Wakefield Press: The Pioneers Association of South Australia, Miss Marryat's Circle and Then Tina Met Will.