Written by: Kera M. P. Gotchy
Disclaimer: This story was created with the assistance of AI. References to real places are included only for realism and should not be interpreted as factual representation.
Part 2 — Ink and Shadows
I returned early the next day, brewed bitter tea in the staff kitchenette, and set up under the harsh LED light, determined to continue. The soldier’s voice grew clearer with each entry. The words filled the quiet, and the weight of the journal seemed to press into my chest.
A girl waited by Einbunpin Lagoon, “beside the reeds and the waterhen that stalk the banks like old men.” I pictured the lagoon in the heart of the town, its surface eerily still and reflective, as if too serene for any turmoil to lurk beneath. I wondered what secrets lay within this heritage-listed corner of Moreton Bay— hidden in the depths of waters tainted by algal blooms.
I tugged again at the glued seam—but then I stopped myself. Hands off until I log a request. Ruth’s words echoed in my mind: Conservation first. Don’t rush this.
Just as I turned back to the journal, the doorbell clanged, followed by the shuffle of footsteps. A man edged into the doorway, two crates in tow.
“Where d’you want these? Volunteers said back room.”
“Back room,” I said, not bothering to look up. “Archives, not garage sale.”
He chuckled. “Daniel Harding. Bracken Ridge State School. I promised to drop off old programs.”
He set the crates down onto a trolley and wiped his palms. “You look like someone mid-mystery.”
“Dr. Emily Carter,” I said. “Local histories. Not mysteries. Well, sometimes they’re the same thing.”
“Bracken Ridge gets a line?” Daniel asked, his eyes scanning my screen. “Everyone forgets we’re more than just the tavern on Barrett Street.”
“Bracken Ridge deserves more than a footnote,” I said. I knew the entries by heart—families, ovals, the library cornered by figs. It was rich with history.
Daniel’s eyes lingered on the journal. “Is that…?”
“Uncatalogued,” I said. “Anonymous. Wartime.”
“Anonymous never stays that way,” he replied, softer now, like he understood exactly what was at stake.
I checked the initials again—J. L. A name that could have been anyone. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like a secret waiting to break.
To be continued …
Read more stories from the Sandgate Guide print magazine here:
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- How a Two-Minute Call Can Save You Thousands
- Podcast Review: Pop Culture Parenting
- The French Film Festival Brisbane
- Queenfish Scomberoides commersonnianus
- Organic Gardening in March
- Free, Cheap and Local!
- Happitat Brings High-Altitude Thrills to Gold Coast Hinterland
- Artrageous Community Arts Centre Unveils 2026 Showcase
- Bayside Gears Up For Beloved Bluewater Festival Return
- Local Boxers Step Up for Urban Warfare Showdown
- On Court Fun in Bracken Ridge
- Gateball’s Strategic Fun Hits the 4017
- Amazing Grace
- Emma Hinton: A Pioneering Woman of Sandgate
- Cane Toad Tadpole Trapping
- A Lifetime Of Memories Made By The Water
- Shining a Light on Rare Cancers
- Community Support Brings Joy On The Water
- Sandgate Historical Museum Celebrates A Century of Weddings
- Young Heroes Headline School’s Out Event
- Mid-term Madness
- Sandgate Theatre Dishes Up Dark Comedy
- Young Family Bids Ta-Ra to Town Hall Bakery
- Wildlife Safari Returns to Sands Bowlo this Easter
- New Clubhouse Secures Netball’s Future on the Northside
