Voice Within: A Storybook by Storytellers
This podcast narrates to you short stories, poems and letters from a collective of authors. It is a simple cup of tea in hand, or a long drive kind of moment, to truly immerse yourself in a tale or two. For the love of a good story!
Voice Within: A Storybook by Storytellers
The Circle
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Voice Within: a storyteller's exclusive
Subscribe to show your support for all authors, storytellers and writers.What does freedom truly mean? Is it escape from society's constraints, or is it having the autonomy to make your own choices? "The Circle" takes us on a journey with Ali, a young mother who has followed her partner Sam to a remote property in search of an alternative lifestyle, only to discover that escaping the mainstream doesn't automatically lead to liberation.
Eleanor Sharman crafts a story of subtle awakening as Ali gradually recognizes the controlling patterns in her relationship. From Sam's restrictions on where she can plant her herbs to his sabotage of her connections with others, the signs of an unhealthy dynamic slowly surface. Particularly affecting is how Ryan, Ali's young son, becomes a mirror reflecting the impacts of this isolated existence and Sam's unpredictable behavior.
The narrative masterfully contrasts two visions of alternative living. Sam's property, increasingly characterized by isolation, control, and emotional instability, stands in stark opposition to the vibrant community Ali eventually discovers – a place where individuality is celebrated within a supportive circle of connection. Sharman uses landscape as metaphor throughout, with the transition from Sam's drought-stricken land to the "velvet green and pillowy fields" of Ali's new home paralleling her emotional journey.
Most powerfully, "The Circle" explores how we sometimes must leave what we love to find what we need. Ali's decision to leave Sam, despite her care for him, demonstrates that sometimes the most compassionate choice is setting both yourself and others free from patterns that no longer serve growth. As she drives away for the final time, Tracy Chapman sings about "flying away" and "revolution," musical affirmations of Ali's courageous new beginning.
Listen now to this moving exploration of personal transformation and the courage it takes to break free from unhealthy relationships. Have you ever had to leave something behind to discover what true freedom feels like?
This story is also available on the Edition 1 of Voice Within: a storybook by storytellers.
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Ah, if you're here, this is wonderful news, because it means you're here to support the authors, the storytellers and the writers that have entrusted us to share their tales through this platform. Thank you, thank you for your support, thank you for supporting this art form, and I look forward to sharing many more tales with you. So, cup of tea in hand, and a couple of biggies too, enjoy the love of a good story. Hello, and how are you? Today we're going to explore a short story by Eleanor Sharman. Now Eleanor shares with us, through this tale, a journey through personal change and how one decision to another actually can propel you forward to, perhaps, a better life or a sense of harmony in your decision-making when you are up against, perhaps, friction or tension, or people's inability to meet you where you are. So this story is quite a lengthy one. So please, please, please, tuck yourself in, get yourself comfortable and get yourself a cup of tea or whatever makes you comfy during this story time. It's called the Circle, and I'm honoured to be the one to narrate it for Eleanor. And let's see how it goes. Yeah, the Circle by Eleanor Sharman.
Speaker 1:Ali trudges along behind Sam as he weaves around huge silver granite boulders, eucalyptus and wide turfs of native grass, dry leaves and twigs crackle underfoot. It's only spring, but the sun blazes and the rain hasn't arrived. They're searching for a cave with a skull-shaped rock at the top and a dinosaur. It doesn't look like cave country. She wonders how much he'd smoked before he came across these rock formations. Apparently he couldn't find the dinosaur last time either. Sam twinkles with pride as he presents her with the less disturbed farther reaches of his hundred-acre kingdom, directing her gaze to multi-storey thickets rich with a varied of leaf shapes and shades. This is a rare xeria. He squats down next to pinky white flowers sprouting from a small rosemary-like shrub.
Speaker 1:She recognized with a flash of guilt that she finds more pleasure in exploring on her own. The valleys and ridges of her childhood offered endless adventures, imaginary homes, horses and the lure of secret, magic places waiting to be uncovered. A similar curiosity and excitement has returned as she discovers hidden nooks and crannies and realises they too are part of her home. Now Ali stops to feel her lungs and push out dry breath. She's had enough tramping through the midday sun. Above them, an apple gum perches on a rock ledge, tender pink branches offering rare shade. She calls to Sam, I'm going to look up this way and points uphill. Give me a yell if you find anything Up on the ledge.
Speaker 1:Fingers of light filter through the twisted human-shaped limbs and fall onto Ali's legs, scattering when the breeze passes, allowing her eyelids to drop. She absorbs the background chorus of nature, imagining millions of tiny and invisible machinations in perpetual motion. Yet above it all seems to be afloat a certain silence, a stillness, a sense of timelessness. She could be resting here 200 years ago, in 1787 rather than 1987, and it would probably sound the same, except for the presence of the original people passing babble of an ancient language, the rattle of wooden utensils, a rustle of swaying dilly bags, the snap of branches gathered for a fire now gone silent. When she stands up, she catches snippets of the river below shallow green water flashing and grumbling its way through rapids. Her tree's shadow extends below, over another flat ledge and shelters a tumble of small boulders. They lie in a nearly perfect circle. It takes a few moments for her mind's eye to comprehend what she's seeing. Head-sized rocks perch on top of torso-sized ones with smaller versions gathered close beside them. A group of stone adults and children sit in front of her, all caught in the shade of the tree. Ali clings to Sam, head nestled between his shoulders, as they fly along the trail, defying gravity, the thick regrowth reaches toward them and then flashes past the bike, eyes closed. It's like they're travelling so fast that they've disappeared, that they've passed through time and space to their own private dimension. What she and sam already have out here, she realized with a thrill. He believes that the world has gone all wrong. Its idea of sanity is madness. Development is actually destruction. Adding more things to life just makes it smaller. That the truth of what people are doing will rise, the illusion will fall and they will be left with nothing except for themselves, of course.
Speaker 1:In Sydney Ali was usually broke and often alone. Her friends worked all day and partied all night, part of her regrets dropping out of a dance course. But her focus has changed. Here she and Ryan have everything they need Food, shelter, electricity from the sun, water from the sky and river, nature, love. Why do you think I live 50 miles away from town? Sam is unapologetic. Well, not all of us hate other people, ali reminds him. I like some people, so you say, but you never want to visit any. We'll go and visit tomo tomorrow. What, your neighbor over the hill. I thought you didn't like him. I don't. I just want to see if you'll sell me that old trail bike For you. You can do your girl stuff with Lou, his wife, and Ryan can play with a boy.
Speaker 1:They pull up outside a dusty fibro house encircled by a yard of bare earth holes and rubbish behind a barbed wire fence. Shams shakes his head slowly and frowns. There used to be a garden and an orchard, but Tomo cleared it all when the old man died and stuck pigs in there. The desolation around them is striking. Treeless, eroded hillside and emancipated sheep stranded in barren paddocks fill her with a mixture of sorrow and disgust. Could she really be friends with people who treat animals? Then they land that way?
Speaker 1:Lou plonks mugs and tea bags on the table and gossips about the parents of the other children at the two-room school half an hour away. Ali doesn't know the woman who's talking about the farmer's wives. They pass her at the school and occasionally sneak glances as they gather outside the gate at pick-up time, but they're never offered conversation. She suspects that it's because she looks too young to have a five-year-old, that her chunky silver jewelry is too much, her paisley shirt not country enough and her asymmetrical hair haircut too weird. Are you big on gardening too, asked lou. I like to grow some flowers. Tomo's mom had roses at the back but he says we don't have enough water and it's too hard to keep pigs away. We mostly grow veggies enough to live off if we don't feel like going to town cheaper just to buy everything frozen. Lou nods toward the huge chest freezer taking up the corner of the kitchen. This lot will last us for weeks.
Speaker 1:Out the side window, ali sees the men posted at the entrance to the shed Tom own, full rant with his arms crossed above his impressive belly, and Sam silently staring at his boots as he pokes around in the dough. No sign of any trial bike. Where did those boys go? Lou cranes her neck towards the open back door and yells at her son. No reply, robbie. She yells louder. The eight-year-old ambles into view looking sideways. There you are, where's your friend? I don't know.
Speaker 1:Ali finds ryan out the front leaning against the car. He won't look her in the face. Are you okay? What's wrong? He presses his lips together. She squats down. What happened nothing? He says, shaking, saying can we go now?
Speaker 1:Dust blooms behind the panel van and mangy rabbits scatter from the track as they approach. Sam used to try to make her run them over on purpose. You'd be doing the environment a favour. They're an invasive pest, like humans, he'd sneer. Ryan is unusually quiet usually quiet.
Speaker 1:The side window frames a flare of afternoon sun and glowing particles of red soil sneak into the cabin, into Ali's nose, her hair, her eyes, her mouth. She's thankful for the gritty cloud that coats her raw shock and sadness. Why bother coming back was the last thing he shouted as they pulled away. I thought you'd want to see the thunderbirds ali had explained earlier. Are you friends with some of the guys in the band? Sam creased his face and rolled another smoke. I don't know about friends. I did a couple of gigs with them about five years ago. Last time I saw Rick, he said he'd come out for a jam, but he never turned up. Not surprising when you live all the way out here.
Speaker 1:We refuse to have a driver's license, don't have a phone and keep locking the gate. It's not that far to walk to camp from the gate. Everyone knows I'm out here all the time. She took a deep breath. Yeah, well, I'm going anyway. I haven't had a good dance for ages. Sam's face turned sour. Yeah, run off and tell your girlfriends all about Crazy Sam and how bad it is out here. She blanched. How can you think I'd do that? I know you struggle sometimes, but so do I. I'm here because I want to be and to be with you. You know that, do I? As a van hits the tar, ali slips in a cassette and they belt out Warambi's band songs. The Holden picks up speed and they soar east towards the real world To the few people she still knows in town. A bottle of wine, laughter and sanity.
Speaker 1:Sam waits for them outside the caravan the next afternoon as they roll down the last bit of track and land on the flats. The river is clear and lively again, thanks to last night's rain. The acre of orchid and vegetable garden glows and the mess around the campfire has disappeared. All this wild nature, this space and beauty. It held such promise. The thought of giving it all up and leaving brings her to tears, but then she remembers a look on Ryan's face when Sam kicked the car as they left. She has to do something.
Speaker 1:Ali winds down the window and Sam leans in. I know he says I'm a fuck Sam. She narrows her eyes and shoots a quick glance at Ryan, I'll put the billy on. He wanders off toward the outside fireplace, shoulders hunched and hands in pocket. She unloads the car. They perch on tin chairs under the caravan's veranda and watch Ryan in the river pond happily poking at something with a stick. Sam finally looks at her directly. I'll do it. Do what? Go to counselling. Good, when are you going to make an appointment Tomorrow? Do you still have the number I gave you? He nods. She lets silence fall and stirs her tea. Please, looking up. She's caught in the hot stare of his eyes and her heart liquefies. She thinks of the scrap of paper in her jeans. Pocket her insurance. Let's see how it goes.
Speaker 1:Ali hadn't recognised Michelle at first when the social worker approached her at the mall that morning. It must be six years since she was part of the art group at the youth centre. Yes, michelle knew Sam. She knew his last girlfriend. Look, michelle said I've got this caravan down on the coast on an MO, a multiple occupancy. I don't know what it's like at the moment, haven't been down there for ages, but if you ever need somewhere if things get difficult, michelle pulled a torn envelope out of her bag and drew a map on the back. Ali didn't have to tell her anything.
Speaker 1:What are you doing? Sam towers over Ali. She squats next to the path in the morning shade and pours soil into gaps between some small boulders, making a herb garden. I thought rosemary would go well in here, and oregano too. It could trail over the stones.
Speaker 1:Why not here? Why not? I've already got plans for this bit of the garden. Oh yeah, what are they? Sam pauses, I haven't decided yet. She shakes her head slowly and stands up to look at him in the face.
Speaker 1:So tell me, where do I get to do my own thing? Of course you can do your own thing, just ask me first. But everything I do, you find some reason to say no, no, I don't. Okay, when have you said yes? Sam rolls his eyes. Look, how can I feel at home here when I'm not allowed to do anything? You do lots of things, yeah, cooking, cleaning, helping you. What's mine here? Really Nothing. He splays out his hands. It's all yours, baby, all of it. If you want Really Ali's eyebrows rise Then I want this to be my herb garden.
Speaker 1:It's dark, but Sam's not back yet. Ali chops vegetables for dinner and Ryan colours in his homework at the table. The February night still carries the heat of the day and the screenless door lies open, despite the tribes of moths, attracted from far and wide, that cluster around the light. She turned the talking heads tape up louder to stop her mind from worrying about him. Sam's brother, ned, had arrived around midday and left again surprisingly soon after sending a wave to her in the vegetable garden as his car rolled past. By the time she finished weeding, sam had disappeared. Now he suddenly feels the doorway face scratched and the knuckles of his hand on the doorframe red and swollen. Oh my God, are you okay? He nods. Let me turn down the music. No, no, leave it. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want her to fix him up and doesn't want to eat. Later she joins him in the partitioned off bedroom.
Speaker 1:Ned had brought news that a friend, phil, had just died. Sam had been close to him, but Phil's habits had started to get out of control. Pandemonium and missing valuables began to follow him like the smoke from a campfire. The last time they talked, field had wanted to come out and stay. Organic food, clean air, all that healthy living stuff that's what I need, phil, had insisted. I don't have a car, so I'll just stay out there till I'm clean again. Look, mate, sam had told him I think it's great what you want to do and I'd really like to help, but I'm really not set up for that kind of thing. I don't have anywhere private for you to sleep. I don't have a phone. I can't take you anywhere. If you need help, it's okay, I'll get a tent. I'll be right, phil. Mate, I know what it's like to go cold turkey. It's harder than you think. I can't even imagine my own headspace sometimes. I wouldn't be much help to you. Phil had overdosed.
Speaker 1:Ali holds Sam tight and tries to convince him that he did the right thing, that it isn't his fault. He won't believe her and he cuts like a blade. That it isn't his fault. He won't believe her and he cuts like a blade. She feels his pain, sees the self-hatred haunting his eyes and he's frightened. She knows how easily this kind of thing can destroy someone, not to mention those around them. In the morning she's still subdued and uncommunicative. All I can do is show my love and support, thinks Ali. But he tries to dodge each hug in kindness like it's a swipe. He just wants to be left alone.
Speaker 1:Later that night Ali discovers Sam gone. He's not outside. Should she be worried? Is this a bad sign? Or is heading bush in the middle of the night just something he's done from time to time? She tries to forget it and go back to sleep, but doesn't have much success.
Speaker 1:It's early morning when Ali wakes to an echoing shot in the distance. Her mind races. Sam does have a gun somewhere. She remembers something an ex-Vietnam vet gave him so he could protect his land after the apocalypse. Where should she start? Where would he go? Up river or down river, toward town or toward Tomo's? But Ryan will wake up soon. She can't leave him on his own and she can't take him with her. God knows what they might find.
Speaker 1:The clock says nearly six. She'll give it until nine, then drive to the phone. Nine o'clock comes and goes. She's just turned the car around and pointed it toward the track when she spies him in the rear view mirror, dressed in khaki and dusty black, with a stone-hued beanie covering most of his hair. He blends in perfectly with the edge of the pathway leading up river. Thank God, she thinks, before a flame of anger sparks.
Speaker 1:Ryan is clingy and they don't get a chance to talk until evening. Ali can't get her head around it. What did you think it would be like for Ryan? For me, thinking didn't come into it, I just had to do something. But there are plenty of things you can do, counseling for one. Thank god you've got an appointment soon, on thursday, isn't it? Shakes his head but doesn't reply no, when is it then? It's not. What do you mean? I don't have one. He m mumbled. What, why, what happened? His anger rises. I didn't make one. Okay, I threw away the number. Sam stands by and watches in silence as Ali packs camping gear and clothes into the van.
Speaker 1:She explained last night that she's definitely coming back. He wasn't convinced. When have I lied to to you? She knew he wouldn't answer. You've got my sister's address and phone number. Get in touch when we've had some counseling and and and can cope with yourself again and and cope with the fact that I need something different to you sometimes. And excited Ryan now turns to Sam where, where are you all going on a holiday? Yeah, mate, good on you. She's grateful that he's trying at least. Aren't you coming too? Sam Asks the boy. No, your mum doesn't want me to.
Speaker 1:The old community hall heaves Bass vibrations thump the floor and African drums carry waves of guitar and ripples of saxophone. Dim lights reveal a jungle of jumping, swaying torsos and snaking arms, mingling with sweaty steam and wafts of curry from the kitchen. Ali doesn't know anyone apart from her sister, yet feels at home among the colourful crowd. Anyone apart from her sister, yet feels at home among the colourful crowd. During the break, her sister induces her friend Bryn, another volunteer from the local community radio station, and they all chat for a while. Ali tells her where she's headed. Yeah, that's quite a close community down there, beautiful spot. I go down for the Tuesday cafe sometime, says Bryn. The music revs up again and the others smile and make space, as Ali does what comes so naturally to roll with the rhythm and bend with the melody, to reach and spread her arms, turn and slide and fly as she slips into the zone.
Speaker 1:The next afternoon Ali pulls out Michelle's mud map, flattens us out and traces their path through the maze of lines with her finger about an hour, according to her sister. Once she's back on the main road, the caravan is locked. Ali and Ryan follow a track around the top of a valley filled with long grass. Vigorous creepers planted around clumps of bananas and papayas pump out a sweet earthy aroma, a handsome rooster crows, multi-coloured feathers glistening as he keeps an eye on his harem of ruby feathered hens. The sounds, the smells, the lushness and humidity. To take her back to the village in Bali she fell in love with, she feels like she's arrived in paradise again. Such is the contrast between this place and the eroded gullies and degraded sheep paddocks.
Speaker 1:Less than four hours away, a pole-framed structure emerges from the forest edge. Inside they find a kitchen but no people. Eventually a woman answers Ali's and wanders away from a large caravane nearby. After the third degree, ali is presented with a key and warned that Michelle's van might be a bit damp. It isn't too bad, actually, with the windows and doors open, but when she joins Ryan on the bed it collapses underneath them. They crawl back into the panel van until the baking sun drives them out.
Speaker 1:Early next morning Ali is content with a large canvas tent sheltering under the bunion nut tree. Different people have dropped by over the last couple of months with donations. A small table, the odd chair, a piece of old carpet. It might not be much, but it's everything they need for now and it's theirs. Her old friends would be horrified, but her life feels abundant. Creative opportunities and new connections with people continue to unfurl and fill the empty spaces left behind by the loss of a dream with Sam and love.
Speaker 1:At the moment, that word confuses Ali more than ever. Her body feels like it's been wrung out to dry after all that carting and drilling, sawing and hammering. But the woman's building group knows what it's doing and the floor of the hexagonal children's space is finished, more or less. The pain is satisfying. Each day of work brings more clarity of mind and strength of determination. She will get through this. She splays out on the double mattress in blissful recline and drinks in the music of birds, frogs and mosquitoes. As they gear up for the evening, laughter and excited shouts ring out from across the hollow from Ryan and some other kids playing near the schoolhouse. Julie from the building group appears at the window and tells Ali to drop over tomorrow. Her neighbour has decided to stay up north until she finishes uni and needs someone to look after the hand-built home and vegetable garden. Ali calls to Ryan. They're going to stay.
Speaker 1:Waves of sadness compete with trepidation as Ali approaches the gate to Sam's property, threatening the calm confidence she worked hard to carry all the way back up and over the mountain for Ryan's sake, as if it is a perfectly normal thing to be returning home to pack up and leave your papa, maybe forever. She expected to find the padlock firmly secured, but it swings open onto dusty, unmarked soil. Nobody has passed through for a while. It's strange to be back on the property, to roll down the familiar track, to know by heart every rock, jutting out every patch of corrugation, yet to feel so different inside. Ali wakes from the couch the next morning to the crackle of a Weet-Bix packet and the pop of the fridge door opening. Well, this is the day, the day they're out of here. She's sure she will always remember it.
Speaker 1:Grief threatens to erupt. She breathes it back down again. Better get up. Sorry, ryan, I slept in. Sam's nowhere to be seen and she's relieved. There's something not right outside when she wanders up the pathway to the loo. But she hasn't had much sleep and her brain feels like it's crawling on its hands and knees.
Speaker 1:On the way back she finally registers Her van is gone. Oh God, Her pulse quickens. What's he done now? An hour later, she notices a movement from the corner of her eye and picks out Sam stumbling along the track from the creek. His eyes stay glued to the ground until he reaches the camp. Till he reaches the camp, the car's gone. Sam Ryan pipes up. I know I know Sam replies in a low voice. I borrowed. It broke down near the creek.
Speaker 1:Ellie stares at Sam until she gets his attention and points her head in the direction of the garden. He follows. What the hell's going on? She demands Where's my car? He won't look at her in the eye. It's stuck. She's baffled. What do you mean stuck? Stuck, how Stuck where? On a rock On the edge of the creek? He can't resist a smirk. Ali can't believe what she's hearing. It doesn't make sense. There's no track to the creek. How did you? He must have dragged her poor van through the scrub. How could you do that? Her voice rubs. Why would you do that? I was trying to drive it into the creek.
Speaker 1:Sam hangs back as Ali carries the last boxes from the shed to her panel van. The car looks relatively unscathed. Only the underneath shows evidence of yesterday's adventures. She sees a camera in sam's hand. What are you doing with that? He holds it up and sends her a hard stare. I want something to remember you by. You already have have photos, not of you leaving. She turns around Well, that's everything. She moves around to the other side of the van to change into the white top that she says packed away, no point wearing it around here. Sam follows her with his camera. Hey, no, she yells. While she turns her back, he stands in cold silence and watches them disappear up the hill.
Speaker 1:Tears sneak through the bottom of Ali's sunglasses but start to dry as the car and the sun arc to the north. The regenerating bushland looks despotant from a dry late summer and the neighbour's sheep forlorn Staring into their grey, shadeless paddock. Gloom descends as she's sucking the last bit of light out of the atmosphere. As she leaves, tracy Chapman sings to Ali and Ryan about flying away and fast cars as they pass through town and head for the coast and pleads for revolution as the road begins to wind and trees gather. Only when they reach the velvet green and pillowy fields of the plateau does she stop and breathe normally again. The small township has its own small health store, where she browses the ads for goats, 12-volt pumps and solar panels on the notice board. A new lifestyle has begun to evolve around these parts, she realises while she's been busy losing herself in the city and hiding away in the wild west. Perhaps there is hope for this mad world after all. Away in the wild west, perhaps there is hope for this mad world after all.
Speaker 1:The van sways with the road as it twists down the mountain, through tight, narrow curves and waterfalls, along sheer drop-offs and snatches of the plains, they pass a hall where, only a few months ago, ali had the best night she can remember since before her son.
Speaker 1:Excitement mounts. When the next township comes into view, this will be her town. Now Ali stocks up on supplies and notices that the farmers and their wives don't seem to stare at the young hippie families with nearly naked children, the younger punky folk or the fashionably dressed who pass them in the street. She had always fought the labels and boxes that other people would try to squeeze her into. Now she feels free to design her own or just keep them guessing, she decides with a grin. Endless state forest eventually opens out onto long grassy slopes of whiskey grass turned autumn pink. She follows the ridge leading to the community camping ground and a new home, waving as she passes a group of people near the schoolhouse a meeting. By the look of it, they sit in a near perfect circle. Young children gather close, all caught in the shade of the fig tree, their end. Thank you,
