Coming of Hippolyta
- short story
Madge Kelly went onto the back verandah to empty the teapot on the hydrangea growing in an old tub by the wooden steps. In the darkness, she visualized the plant's lush blue flowers: to her, it was an old friend.
She had bought the plant as a cutting in a jam tin from a stall in town the year she married Ern and had propagated it many times, but the parent plant meant more to her than its offspring growing around her garden and in the neighbours' gardens.
She glanced to that part of the evening sky where the planet Venus usually appeared.
Below the planet, another bright star suddenly materialized. Madge thought it was the light of a jet, but it moved too fast. To Madge's startled gaze, it grew larger and brighter while she watched and seemed to land beyond the strip of bush in the north paddock.
Ern, her husband, called from the kitchen, "Hurry up, Madge. We're waiting for our tea."
Madge backed away from Venus and tripped over the doorstep into the kitchen. "I think I've just seen a spaceship land."
Her two sons, Kev and Ron, looked startled, and then laughed. "You read too many stories, Mum," said Kev, the eldest son.
Madge gazed timidly at him, amazed she’d produced this huge young man who towered head and shoulders over her and was already overweight at twenty-two.
Ron, the younger son, who was nearly as large as his brother, jumped to his feet. His chair went flying backwards. "I want to see this spaceship of yours, Mum," he said, pushing past her on his way to the door.
Madge winced as the door slammed after him.
"You're a fool, Madge," Ern said good naturedly from his place at the head of the table.
A few minutes later, Ron stamped back into the kitchen. "There's no spaceship out there, Mum."
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