JOURNEYERS

Journeyeres are like gypsies; they kidnap children and send them back and forth in time

GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA
Outside the Glen Hartwell High School on Biblical Road and Howard Street, four seventeen-year-old girls and one fifteen-year-old girl were slowly walking down Howard Street on the way home.
"So who's your fave?" asked Suzie Carmichael, a tall, shapely brunette.
"Nicholas Galitzine," said fifteen-year-old Ester, Suzie's younger sister. "He's dreamy."
"And way out of your league, squirt," teased Suzie. "My fave is either Jacob Elordi or Timothée Chalamet. They're both dreamboats!" She sighed and looked dreamy-eyed, thinking about them.
"No fair, picking two," said Ester, a short brunette with braces. "You have to pick just one."
"Yeah, just one," chorused the other girls.
"Okay," said Suzie, thinking for a moment, before saying, "Timothée Chalamet."
"Ooh, he's dream," said Adelaide Donadin, a half-breed Aborigine. "But my fave would be Hero Finnes Tiffin."
"The English actor and producer?" asked Lizzie Chong, a pretty Eurasian girl. "Yeah, he's hot, but my fave is Tanner Buchanan, the actor, producer, and director. He is an all-around hottie."
"What about you, Libby?" asked Adelaide.
"Austin Butler or Justin Bieber," said Libby Whyte, a tall, beautiful blonde.
"Justin Bieber?" asked Lizzie. "He is so last year."
"Or even the year before," said Suzie.
"Besides, you have to choose just one!" reminded Ester.
"All right," she considered for a moment, "Austin Butler."
"At least he is this year," said Adelaide Donadin.
"Duh! He's this moment," insisted Libby, as they walked down the Lemon-scented gum tree-lined street. "This instant, even!"
"Wow, take a chill pill to calm down," teased Ester.
"I was just saying."
"Well," conceded Lizzie, "they're all hot ... But nowhere near as hot as us!"
"That's so true," agreed Suzie, and the five girls started squealing and jumping around like Dodgem-goats.
They were still squealing and jumping around when the procession of brightly coloured horse-drawn caravans drove past them, heading toward Dirk Hartog Place.
"Hey, I think a fair is coming to town," said Libby.
She pointed after the slow-moving caravans, and the five girls, still squealing, were soon racing along the footpath after the procession of a dozen or so caravans. After a moment, they ducked out onto the road and raced across to the nearest caravan.
"What's going on?" asked Lizzie. "Is this a fair or something?"
"No," said the tall, thin, blond man driving the caravan. "We are journeyers. We travel all around the world, seeing all there is to see."
"Wow," said Suzie, "you must have some great stories to tell us."
"Indeed, we do, indeed we do, if you girls would like to climb aboard the caravan and take a short ride with us to the Southern end of Glen Hartwell."
Squealing with excitement, the five girls raced across to climb up onto the caravan, three inside peeping out, Lizzie and Ester sitting next to the driver.
"I'm Timmie, by the way," he said, holding out his right hand.
"Suzie," she introduced herself, before introducing Ester, then the other girls.
The caravan train rode right through Glen Hartwell, then stopped in the sweet-smelling, lemon-scented, red, and blue gum forest into a clearing a few kilometres beyond the town.
They parked the caravans in a rough circle, untied the horses, and fed and watered them. Then they set up a cook fire in the very centre of the clearing, with rickety wooden stools to sit upon.
Then the leader of the Journeyers, Emil Thorley, asked, "Who wants to hear a story of mice and men and cabbages and kings?"
"Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!" squealed the five girls bouncing around like Dodgem-goats again.
"Very well," said Emil, a huge, powerfully-built man with a shining bald head, "it all started in 1185 AD, nine years before the release of Richard the Lionheart ...."
As he spoke, Emil reached into a cloth bag he wore around his neck, took out a pinch or two of spices and tossed them onto the fire, which flamed up at each pinch, until multi-coloured smoke wreathed from the flames.
"Hey, look, I can see faces in the smoke," said Ester, pointing at the roiling smoke clouds.
"Quiet, squirt," teased Suzie Carmichael.
"No, the little one is right," said Emil, "as I tell the story, the magic spices I throw into the fire will help us to see back to the days of yore. The days of cabbages and kings, of Robin Hood, Prince John, the Sheriff of Nottingham and Robin's merry men...."
"But how could you have been alive back ...?" began Suzie, yawning widely as the roiling coloured smoke made her drowsy, made her start to see images of men in Sherwood Green.
"Look, there's Robin ..." began Adelaide, before yawning, seeming to fall asleep and start dreaming of Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.
Dimly she heard a woman's voice ask, "How many, Emil?" and the head Journeyer reply, "At least three, Yara."
Then, as the storytelling and spice tossing continued, the smoke continued roiling until it had enveloped everyone in the clearing, strangely not making anyone cough, but making them see visions of Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest.
Finally, Emil stopped feeding the fire, and the swirling coloured smoke began to dissipate, leaving behind the Journeyers, and Suzie and Ester Carmichael, with no sign of Adelaide, Lizzie, or Libby.
"What ... what happened?" asked a bleary-eyed Suzie.
"Ah, little one, you fell asleep while my husband was telling you of mice and men and cabbages and kings," said the tall, busty, forty-five-year-old blonde.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Me too," said Ester between yawns. "I think I also fell asleep."
"Not your fault, girls," said Emil. "The mystic smoke can have that effect on you the first couple of times."
"Perhaps we should get them home?" suggested Yara.
"Where do you live, girls?" asked Emil.
"55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell," said a sleepy-eyed Ester.
"Well, I will get Sanjit to take them home."
"On horseback?" asked a worried-sounding Suzie.
"Surely, as country girls, you have had plenty of experience riding horses?" asked Yara.
"We live in the township," explained Ester. "Although we sometimes go for long walks in the forest."
"As you should," encouraged the busty blonde.
"We sometimes see Koalas, kangaroos, even emus," said Suzie. "They're not as fast as John Williamson wanted you to believe, but if you try sneaking up on one, they can sure move."
"That's right," said Ester, as Sanjit arrived leading a huge pinto, "I've tried several times, and I never get close."
Seeing the huge horse, Suzie said, "I'm not sure...."
"Don't worry, little one, I will lift you," offered Emil. He grabbed a startled Suzie by the waist and easily lifted her onto the pinto, which had a saddle blanket but no saddle on it. "And Sanjit will lift you down at Lawson Street."
"Well, Oh ..." started Ester, squealing in surprise as Emil suddenly grabbed her and lifted her onto the pinto.

Over at 55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell, Daisy Carmichael, a tall, attractive fortyish brunette, was staring out into the tree-lined street, looking worried.
"Where could those two tearaways have got to?" she wondered. "They know they're supposed to come straight home after school, even if they traipse straight out again."
"I'm sure they're both okay," said her older sister, Lysette, a fifty-something Amazonian blonde, who was the madam at the Free Love Sex Lounge in LePage.
At that moment, a huge pinto horse stopped outside with the two girls and Sanjit upon it.
"What the Hell is this?" asked Daisy.
The two women ran across to the front door as Sanjit alighted, then lifted first Ester, then Suzie down to the footpath.
"What do we have here?" asked Daisy. "Is the circus in town again?"
"No ma'[am," said Sanjit, "just giving your two young charges a lift home."
"Pinta, that's her name," explained Ester, "might be huge, but she's as gentle as a lamb."
"As long as she doesn't bounce around like a hyperactive lamb, the way you two do when you're excited," teased Daisy.
"Mum! You're embarrassing us in front of Sanjit," pleaded Ester.
"And she can't talk," said Lysette, "when we were your age, we jumped about like hyperactive Dodgem lambs too."
"Thank you, young man, for getting my two daughters home safely," said Daisy. "Are you from a travelling circus?"
"No ma'am, we are Journeyers. What the English call Travellers."
"He means Gypsies," said Ester. "They've got horse-drawn caravans and all."
"So, how did you meet our young charges?" asked Lysette.
"They hitched a ride on one of our caravans as we travelled down Church Street ...."
"He means Biblical Road," corrected Suzie.
"Then our leader, Emil, set out to tell them a story about mice and men and cabbages and kings ... but unfortunately, the smoke from the campfire made them both fall asleep."
"So, we didn't get to hear it," complained Ester.
"You are welcome to come back to our camp another time," offered Sanjit, "with your lovely carers' permission. We'll be out in the forest for up to a week"
"As long as you come home first next time, before leaving the house again," reminded Daisy Carmichael.
"Sorry, Mum," apologised Suzie. "But we saw the caravan train, got excited and raced across to climb aboard and hitch a ride."
"Next time, please bring some friends with you," said Sanjit. "Emil, our leader, is a natural storyteller. He claims to have taught Stephen King ... Although I suspect that that is just one of his many stories."
"I think so," agreed Lysette, laughing.

Over at eighty-two Boothy Street, Glen Hartwell, Adelaide Donadin's parents, Abigail, a tall, curvaceous blonde in her late thirties, and William, a medium-height man in his early forties, were worried about their daughter being late home from school.
"Where could she be?" asked a teary-eyed Abigail.
"I'm sure she's fine, Abby," assured Willy, only hoping that it was true. "You know what Adelaide and her friends are like? As excitable as chickens with a fox in their hen house."
"That's true, I sometimes think their part girl, and part goat the way they bounce around," said Abby. "But maybe we should ring the police anyway."
"Perhaps we should ring her friends' houses first?"
"Yes," agreed Abby, picking up her mobile and starting to dial.

Over at 55 Lawson Street, Daisy, Lysette, Ester and Suzie had barely walked into their house when Daisy's mobile phone rang.
Picking it up, she asked, "Hello? I'll ask the girls." Turning to Ester and Suzie, she asked, "Do you know where Adelaide went after school?"
"Adelaide ...?" asked Suzie for a second, almost recalling that Adelaide, Lizzie and Libby had been with them at the Journeyers' camp. Then, she said, "No, she, Lizzie, and Libby didn't walk home from school with us tonight."
"Why not?" asked Lysette.
Suzie and Ester exchanged puzzled looks, trying to remember. Finally, Ester said, "I think they had somewhere else to go."
"Oh," said Daisy, going on to impart that to Abby Donadin. Looking up again, she asked, "But you don't know where they went?"
Ester and Suzie exchanged puzzled, almost remembering looks again, then shook their heads.
"No, they don't know," said Daisy, before disconnecting.

Having fallen into a trance at the Journeyers' campsite, Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, and Libby Whyte woke up lying on the overgrown grass in a forest. But not of Wattles, Pines, and Gum trees, as there were outside Glen Hartwell, but rather with great oak trees, silver birches, rowan, holly, and hawthorn trees.
"If I didn't know better," said Adelaide, "I'd think we were no longer in Glen Hartwell, Toto."
At that moment, the girls started to sit up and noticed their clothing.
"Hey, what happened to our school uniforms?" asked Lizzie.
"And why are we wearing voile gowns?" asked Libby.
"With hideously tight, pointed slippers," complained Adelaide.
"And why are three men dressed in green tights riding horses toward us?" asked a frightened-sounding Lizzie Chong.
"Oh God, no!" cried Libby. "Somehow we've got railroaded into one of those mo0ronic role-playing games."
"Where everyone dresses up like Robin Hood, or knights of the Round Table?" asked Libby.
"The very same."
"Then we must be somewhere around LePage or Elroy, with those dipsticks from the LePage and Elroy Battle Re-Enactment Society," said Adelaide.
As the horsemen rode toward them, Lizzie shouted, "Piss off, we're not interested in your moronic games."
Stopping to stare at the teenager, a tall, dark-haired man said, "Verily, you do talk strangely, my Chinese beauty."
"I'm only part Chinese, I was born an Aussie!" said Lizzie.
"An Orzie ...?" began the puzzled man. Then a light bulb went off inside his head, "Ah, you were born in Austria. Verily, I have heard of that place."
"Austria ...?" began Lizzie.
"Let him have it," said Adelaide. "Otherwise, we'll be here all day."
"Verily, you do speak strangely too, my dusky angel," said a second rider, a tall, lean, blond man.
"What did he call me?" demanded Adelaide.
"It means you're not white," explained Libby.
"Oh, well, fair enough."
"And who might you be, my fair beauty," a third man, with scruffy red hair, asked Libby.
"Libby Whyte. Who the Hell are you?"
"Verily, you all talk very strangely."
Before the girls had time to run, the three riders reached down, scooped them up, and set them on their horses in front of the saddles.
"And comely wives you will all make," said the blond man.
"Wives? We're only seventeen, Doofus!" said Adelaide.
"Very strange, thy language indeed," said the blond man, "but my name is not Doofus. It is Will, Will-O-Dale."
"Will-O-Dale?" said Adelaide. "You'll be telling us next that you're some of Robin Hood's Merry Men."
"How did you know that, my dusky beauty?" asked the redhead man. "Are you seers?"
"Are we what?" demanded Adelaide.
"He means, are we clairvoyant,' explained
"Then yes, I can see-er your future, and it will be very short, unless you let us down."
"Very strange indeed," said Will-O-Dale. "But we cannot put you down, we are claiming you as our wives."
"But we're only seventeen," repeated Adelaide.
"Then it is high time that you all got married," said the dark-haired man. "Around Sherwood, most girls are married by twelve or thirteen."
"It is almost unheard of for three such rare beauties to be unwed at seventeen," said Will-O-Dale.
With that, the three men kicked the flanks of their mounts and took off with their soon-to-be brides still complaining.

Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they were sitting down to tea at a little after six-thirty.
"So what marvels have you prepared for us tonight, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila Bennett. A Goth chick with black-and-orange striped hair, Sheila was the Chief Constable of the local area.
"Firstly, a French delicacy, Coq au Vin," said Deidre Morton, the owner of the yellow house. A short, chubby, sixty-something brunette, " a hearty stew of chicken braised in red wine"
"Chicken, I can take or leave," said Tommy Tucker. A short, fat, blond retiree, Tommy was a recovering alcoholic. "But the braised in red wine sounds good."
"I thought you'd like that bit. Then, continuing the chicken theme, Poulet Rôti. Meaning a roasted whole chicken with garlic, lemon, and herbs."
"Then let me guess,' said Freddy Kingston, a tall, chubby, bald retiree. "For dessert, we have chicken mousse?"
"No, smarty pants. Since everyone loved it so much last time, we have Pavlova topped with raspberry sauce again."
"Sounds great," said Leo Laxman, a tall, lean Jamaican, employed as a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.
"Excelente," said Terri Scott, the top cop of the area. A tall, beautiful ash blonde, Terri was in her mid-thirties, the same age as Sheila.
"Magnifique," agreed Colin Klein. A tall, redheaded Englishman, Colin was in his late forties and was engaged to be married to Terri on December 10th.
"Super," agreed Natasha Lipzing, a tall, lean, grey-haired lady of seventy-one.
"So bring on the chicken stew," said Tommy.
"Coq au Vin," corrected Deidre.
"Whatever, I just hope you used plenty of red wine."
"He is such a cretin," said Natasha.
"Yeah, but he provides us with comedy relief," said Sheila, making everyone except Tommy laugh.
Deidre had just started to serve out the first course when Terri's mobile phone shrilled.
"Oh no, not a bloody 'gain," said Sheila. "Why must they always ring just as we're starting to eat?"
"Monsters and murderers have no respect for our stomachs," teased Colin as Terri spoke on her phone.
"Neither of those," said Terri after disconnecting. "Three high school girls have vanished on their way home tonight."
"Yeech!" said Sheila as the cops got up to leave.

THE NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON
Divya Khan was strolling through the hallowed halls of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, as she did at least two or three lunchtimes a week, enjoying as many of the gallery's 2300 paintings as possible. Dating from the 1300s to the 1900s, many of the paintings were priceless.
But one of Divya's favourites was a little-known piece, The Three Horsemen, which purported to show Will-O-Dale, and two other of Robin Hood's Merry Men on horseback, riding alone through Sherwood Forest, c. 1189.
"Ah, there you are, my beauty," said Divya, a thirty-eight-year-old Englishwoman, stopping to stare at the picture.
It no longer showed three lone riders. Now, the three men each had a young woman seated ahead of their saddles. One black woman, one of Chinese origin, and one a beautiful blonde.
"What the Hell?" said Divya, before fainting.

GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA
After talking to Adelaide, Lizzie, and Libby's parents, Terri, Colin, and Sheila went around to 55 Lawson Street to talk to Suzie and Ester Carmichael. By then, Lysette had left to start her job as Madam at the Free Love Sex Lounge in LePage. However, the girls' father, Steven Carmichael, had arrived home.
"So, girls, the other parents told us that usually Lizzie, Libby, and Adelaide walked home from school with you two," said Terri, standing in the cream-coloured lounge room.
"Normally they do," agreed Suzie.
"Then, why didn't they tonight?" asked Colin.
"Well ..." said Ester, almost remembering the five girls racing after the Journeyers' horse-drawn caravans. Then the memory vanished again, "I think they had to go somewhere."




Perhaps they are infertile?
They can travel back and forth in time. So that the children stolen in the modern age, turn up in photos back to the 1830s, or paintings from ancient times.
Mention legend of Gypsies/Travellers stealing children throughout history. Except these creatures live forever, and potentially have stolen thousands of children.
Perhaps once Journeyers are defeated, hundreds/thousands (?) of children, of all ages and races, even Neanderthals, appear for Terri and the others to try finding a home for. When someone suggests calling Russell Street for help, Sheila points out that they would keep experimenting on the children from past centuries.
Perhaps the more primitive children are taken to the Gooladoo tribe to live amongst Bulam-Bulam and his people. Then, reluctantly, they call Melbourne regarding the others.
When suggested to him, Bulam-Bulam agrees, saying, "Of course, I don't want them being experimented upon, or sent to Australia's equivalent of Area 51.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia