We sat on the hill, on the grass. I knew this hill from my childhood and knew the view pretty well too. Your body was stretched out on the ground and I sat beside you, knees up.
“So, are we taking a break from life?” I handed you some dried peach shavings.
Sigh. “Yeah.” You nibbled.
“We’re still living. How’s that possible?”
“Enjoy the peace.” You relaxed.
“Shouldn’t we be doing something?”
“I feel dirty on grass.”
My legs slowly stretched out before me. A handful of tasteless sugar went down my throat.
“Let’s do something fun.”
“This is fun.” You spread your arms out, losing yourself to nature’s grip. I got to my feet and started walking.
“Where are you going?”
“On a walk.”
“But why, I mean?”
“Because I can.”
“We were meant to spend the whole day together, were we not?” You sat up.
“It seems you’ve got other things on your mind.”
The grass to the left was taller, so I circled around to the big tree that looked like a mushroom from afar. I would have liked being under the tree, if it weren’t for the pigeons, dogs and creepy crawlies. I spied with my little eye, your figure sat up on the hill. You remained sat up, eyes fixated on the city, when I came around. You could have been a statue, if it weren’t for the light flush in your cheeks.
“We’re so far from it, yet we are right at the centre of it.”
“I hate birds.”
“Where is life?”
“You are life.” He looked up at me.
“You can’t take a break from me, now can you?” You smiled, adorably.
“I’ll run away.” I handed you a bunch of grapes.
“Where could you run to?”
“Where could I run to?” You inched closer to me. “What about with you?”
“That’s hardly running away, now.” A smile creeped onto my lips, just as you got closer and closer and closer. Life was closing in on me.
I’d be lost without you, and that’s not me being cheesy here. I thought. I would never say that out in the open. Never to you.
“As long as we’re together.”
We often found ourselves sitting on this hill – you and I.
Here’s a prose piece I’ve been working on for submission. It’s hard to tell if it’s at the right standard at the moment because I only wrote it yesterday. With this one, I had to show evidence that I’ve been inspired by any of the things we’ve done in the workshops this term; I chose Ernest Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants’ to be the source of inspiration.
The tricky part about shorter prose pieces, is trying to convey a story and message through the subtext. If you just feel like you’re not understanding the piece above, then I’ve probably failed to deliver.
Still – hope you enjoyed it and have a lovely day/week!
See you soon! x