I don’t really know what this is. It’s not finished; I based it on an experience at a party. A hill; stars. Sam, I wish you could have been there; you could have written about it too. Ya’ll, this was the first party I had fun at in a long time. Johnny, if you ever read this, it was yours. This was when Shannon, Rochelle and I had fun on the hill. I added a bit of fantasy to it.

A hill covered with grass is alone. Its steepness is rivaled by nothing, as it is surrounded by flat desolation. Sand stings the air, disrupting the cool flow of existence. The sun’s golden brightness fades, sinking behind the plain. The shadow of night creeps across the dimming sky. A black tarp is covering the void above. The air becomes cloudy with apprehension.

The breeze settles; the sand floats downwards, collecting. The crystal- like grains caught in the blades of grass lift and swirl, creating mini- tornadoes as they rush to join their families. They are commuters at the end of a long day.

The twinkling stars come outcome out to do their duty. They provide little light to the three they are watching over

The three are singled out. Anti-social they deem themselves. Separated from the rest, they approach the hill.

Each is a different color. One is red, one blue, and one green.