Distant Memories
Patrick Bownes
The obstacle before us was enormous. For miles it seemed to ascend, nearly verticaly into the heavens. The sun glistened off the snow and ice, blinding us with its beauty. The only thing to ever imply that it may not be perfect were the trees that occasionally broke through the otherwise impenetrable frozen water and the jagged rocks that waited venomously at the bottom of the summit, jagged teeth in the mouth of a monster our prepubescent brains could not begin to understand.
“Do you think we should? We could like die or something.” I asked timidly. I was always described as a tough kid, but I’ve always known my limits.
“We aren’t gonna die, don’t be stupid. This is the best hill, and I am gonna do it,” my brother responded, eyeing the hill, evaluating it and taking note of its weak points. “We’ll just go around that way where all the trees are, and then just slide down.”
“I don’t Ryan, it’s all ice and there are rocks at the bottom.” I cast a nervous glance at the rocks, waiting ominously for one of us to fall like a witch might wait for one to feast on her irresistible gingerbread house. That’s what this hill was, a giant, frozen gingerbread house.
“I am going up, stay here if you can’t handle it.” My brother responded with a shrug, as he began his crooked ascent up the hill, hugging trees like a Titanic passenger might a lifesaver. Reluctantly, and with much protest, I followed.
When we finally reached the peak of the hill, my brother let out a triumphant cry. “Wooh hoo, baby, yeah! Let’s do this!” All in one motion, he let go of his bark bound support and dove down the hill.
He hit the ice like penguins do, and began a fast descent down the hill on his stomach, heading head first into the leering and seemingly triumphant stone, they all too physical consequences for our actions.
“Patrick, help me, I can’t stop!” He cried out, desperately grabbing at trees, but only succeeding in spinning himself around like a top doomed to a miserable death.
What happened next went into a blur, I dove after my brother. Quickly I grabbed a tree and snapped my other hand out to snatch the most certainly doomed mass of organs that was my soon to be deceased brother Ryan. Too little, too late, however, and Ryan went crashing head first into the cold hard truth that only a large hunk of mineral can represent.
Blood was everywhere, more red liquid seeped from out of my brother’s skull then, at that point in my life, I knew the world had to offer. I rushed over to him, tears in my face, certain that the boy I once called brother was now nothing but a corpse.
“Get mom and dad,” my not-dead brother moaned. “Right, mom and dad, right. I’ll be right back!” I screamed, and ran off into what I thought to be the direction of my house.
The obstacle before us was enormous. For miles it seemed to ascend, nearly verticaly into the heavens. The sun glistened off the snow and ice, blinding us with its beauty. The only thing to ever imply that it may not be perfect were the trees that occasionally broke through the otherwise impenetrable frozen water and the jagged rocks that waited venomously at the bottom of the summit, jagged teeth in the mouth of a monster our prepubescent brains could not begin to understand.
“Do you think we should? We could like die or something.” I asked timidly. I was always described as a tough kid, but I’ve always known my limits.
“We aren’t gonna die, don’t be stupid. This is the best hill, and I am gonna do it,” my brother responded, eyeing the hill, evaluating it and taking note of its weak points. “We’ll just go around that way where all the trees are, and then just slide down.”
“I don’t Ryan, it’s all ice and there are rocks at the bottom.” I cast a nervous glance at the rocks, waiting ominously for one of us to fall like a witch might wait for one to feast on her irresistible gingerbread house. That’s what this hill was, a giant, frozen gingerbread house.
“I am going up, stay here if you can’t handle it.” My brother responded with a shrug, as he began his crooked ascent up the hill, hugging trees like a Titanic passenger might a lifesaver. Reluctantly, and with much protest, I followed.
When we finally reached the peak of the hill, my brother let out a triumphant cry. “Wooh hoo, baby, yeah! Let’s do this!” All in one motion, he let go of his bark bound support and dove down the hill.
He hit the ice like penguins do, and began a fast descent down the hill on his stomach, heading head first into the leering and seemingly triumphant stone, they all too physical consequences for our actions.
“Patrick, help me, I can’t stop!” He cried out, desperately grabbing at trees, but only succeeding in spinning himself around like a top doomed to a miserable death.
What happened next went into a blur, I dove after my brother. Quickly I grabbed a tree and snapped my other hand out to snatch the most certainly doomed mass of organs that was my soon to be deceased brother Ryan. Too little, too late, however, and Ryan went crashing head first into the cold hard truth that only a large hunk of mineral can represent.
Blood was everywhere, more red liquid seeped from out of my brother’s skull then, at that point in my life, I knew the world had to offer. I rushed over to him, tears in my face, certain that the boy I once called brother was now nothing but a corpse.
“Get mom and dad,” my not-dead brother moaned. “Right, mom and dad, right. I’ll be right back!” I screamed, and ran off into what I thought to be the direction of my house.