Falling

Falling

"Have any of you been over to the hill?" Barney was talking to his closest friends, John and Frank, who were just heading home as the sun started to wane. They were walking around that patch of the woods where the light just barely seeps through the canopy, and every once in a while, the "hill" would pop into view. This hill was just to their East, and it stood high toward the sun, unshrouded by any protective flora.
"No, are you crazy?! Not since those maniacs started cavorting around on it," answered Frank. He wasn't much for tact. None of them were exactly comfortable with the newcomers on the hill, but John couldn't help but take a stand,
"Regardless, we should treat them as guests. It's common courtesy, really."
"I'll tell you common courtesy!" shouted Frank, "putting on some damn clothes. No one wants to see that. And don't they know about those snakes! Yowzah!"
"You mean snake?"
"Oh, real mature, John. I'm talking about the actual snakes."
"No really, there's only one snake up there. He's a big deal, too. There's a whole lore behind him. Barney told me a little."
Barney was thoroughly amused. He knew that the two wounld not stop talking about the two maniacs on the hill for the life of them, simply because they like to argue like that. But there was something queer about the whole thing, something he couldn't quite make sense of.
"Alright, shut up already. I'll tell you all about the snake, and the hill, and everything I've seen..."

Barney's story about the hill was quite a work. John was stunned, and he believed every word he heard. Everything from the snake's speaking capabilities to the godlike beauty of the woman to the unending sustenance of the land. He told them about the snake's constant stalking and the massive apple tree near the top of the hill. Frank was suspicious, but his time to speak would come. This was between Barney and John.
"And you're saying they live in complete contentness, without ever being afraid of lions, or tarantulas, or the snake?" asked John.
"Yeah, nothing to be afraid of. I guess they just trust everything around them."
"Sometimes I wish we could live like that. You know, living off the land, without worrying about your our livelihood. You've gotta respect that. Right? ..."
No one said anything for a while, not even Frank. They were sitting now, and the beatling sunlight above made the shadows below the canopy so much darker. The breeze felt cold and Frank shivered a little. Something was moving in the bushes, and Barney jumped in surprise. He'd been followed by a bobcat the other day, and we wasn't expecting a friendly salutation.
"Take it easy, Barns. You know that thing won't hurt you. It's afraid of you, remember." But Frank was worried, too.
"Is it, though? These cats still keep me on my toes."

The next day, John was gone. He wasn't by the waterhole or at the cave's entrance, or anywhere under the rich canopy. They looked everywhere, until it became clear that there was one place they hadn't looked. Barney and Frank knew where to check next, but neither wanted to go there.

When they found John at the entrance to the hill, he was dead. They knew this was the entrance because of the way the massive rocks were organized beside the palms, and because this was the exact location John was left to die. He had two small holes in his wrist where the snake had bitten, and the blood had pooled a little on the rock where his hand was laid. John's head was somehow placed on a small rock so that his face was flush with that of the entrance, like a sign of caution for those approaching the entrance.

Blood rushed out of Barney's face. Something was contrived. Frank stood there, about to scream. Instead, he just rocked slowly, back and forth with the wind. Then he fell to the ground and started crying with a miserable combination of tears and threats. There was a lull from his outbursts, and Barney took the opportunity to move over to Frank, covering his shoulders with a sideways hug.
"Frank, listen, we need to get John back."
"You fools! Freaks of nature! What did you do!" Frank's rage was now uncontrollable. He was shaking all over.
"Why did you do this! Why did you do this to him! WHY!?"
"Frank," Barney tried to interject.
"You're sick, and twisted, living your lives without worry, without seeing this. You don't know what this is like. You just live alone without knowing any of this."
"Frank, please!"
"This is murder! Can you hear me, MURDER! But you live in perfect harmony with nature, right, without murder!"
"FRANK!"
Frank chocked on his own breath, and when he got up again, Barney was pointing toward the south side of the hill.
"Frank, look."
There were two figures in the distance, almost pure white in the sun, walking down the slope of the hill into the forest. They held each other in their arms, with their faces bent to the ground. These were the fools Frank was yelling about, but they didn't seem to notice his tantrum. They simply kept on walking, until the darkness of the forest had consumed their shapes.

Frank glanced back at Barney with wide eyes, but Barney didn't see; his eyes were on the hill. They didn't talk for what must have been five minutes, but finally, Frank said something.
"What is this place?"
"I don't know, and neither do you, and neither should anyone else. Come on, Frank, let's get out of here. Know one will ever hear about this. Just between you and me, you understand?"
"I understand."