Linglingling’s Weblog

Her older brother, perhaps by only a year or two, held her by a leash he had made from string as they both ran up the hill. Her little feet were desprate to catch up behind him as he pulled her along, yanking, and tugging as he ran, like there was nothing but an old toy on the end of the string.

She tripped, as he galloped, the yarn coming lose from her wrist so that there was a second where he ran with no weight on the end of his leash. He turned his head when he realized she had been freed of his chains and was laying awkwardly in a bush of stickers and burrs. He guestured to her, annoyed that she wasn’t getting up, but then hesitated; maybe in that second he remembered that in real life, she wasn’t a slave and he wasn’t an evil king.

He shuffled through the tall grass quickly to where she was laying and when he kneeled down, he softened his eyes, so she wasn’t afraid that he would be rough or unkind, even if it was a game. When she was on her feet, she pulled pricklies and pieces of itchy brown grass out of her hair, and the boy, now accepting the fact that the game was on pause, ran his fingers through her hair, walking in a circle around her.

Her brother was just about to tie the leash around her once more, this time her waist, when from a long distance away, they heard their names being screeched unforgivingly. Her brother was the first to react because he knew better than to take his time when called home. He dropped his leash in the bush of burrs and yanked at his sisters arm, pulling her harshly and making her fall on her knees again.

They tumbled down that hill, literally. The boy did a summersault as the girl slid down the steepest part, catching herself right as she reached the sidewalk. The purple sweater she was clutching on to skidded across the pavement as she hurried down the road. The boy now following her as their hearts pounded. This was more than a game now, it was actual reality and that was much more exciting.