Herdwich Hill

The beginning of a short story I wrote for my class 'Reading and Writing Fantasy'
 Little red flowers cover the hill. Cortney is busy unpacking my backpack which is filled with our dinner. Each item she pulls out, she places by where she sits or where I will. Most of the containers form a semi-circle around her, as I tried to pack her favourite snacks. I’m not sure how she isn’t mesmerized by the view of the hills, and instead by the food. This is not the first time we have walked through this area, but each time it feels as though it isn’t real.          Last time we were here, I told Cortney that the tall grass seemed like the only place I could cry and let my soul unwind and not completely lose myself. She thought I am not happy in this relationship, that I was trying to break up with her. That was not what I meant and still don’t. I feel as though I am removed from existence, and that makes me want to cry. I have not tried to unpack that response.

“Aren’t the flowers pretty? Not as pretty as you though Tonya” Cortney pushes my bag to the side as she asks. She is not looking at the field. She is engrossed in the food. She smiles as she uses the cheesy compliment.

I nod, because why would I disagree with her, why would she even need to ask? I don’t think she is happy with me picking this spot. I know I enjoy it more than her, but I know she enjoys cheese twists more than me and I packed a box of those. “I mentioned to Margie at work that we were coming to Herdwick Hill, and do you know what she told me?” Cortney asks, between bites.

There is no way I would be able to know what Margie told her. Something about this environment just frustrates me, it makes me annoyed that I’m not by myself. I love Cortney, but I don’t feel free, and right now, looking across the field sprinkled with greens and reds I should feel free.

“It’s totally stupid, you can tell that Margie had too much fun when she was younger. She said that this whole town used to be run by sheep. How stupid is that!” Cortney takes a second to laugh.“Sheep, run by fucking sheep.”

I take a seat behind my chicken sandwich, Cortney’s ham and cheddar sandwich is gone and she is already making little salami and cracker sandwiches. She didn’t even wait for me. “I mean, didn’t you ever wonder why it's called Herdwick Hill, when there’s no sheep until a couple towns over.”

Cortney shakes her head. “Okay, well listen to this,” she lowers her voice before saying, “and you call me gullible.” And I can’t help but put my head back. I’m not the one that bought a man in Manchester a train ticket and a meal deal because he was a famous actor, but his manager had his wallet.

“The flowers are the blood of the sheep that the settlers killed, and the hill is a massive grave for them. I don’t know if the sheep were aliens or what, but apparently, Margie's parents would tell her stories about them, sheep that could forge their own swords and plant their own food. That’s why it’s always dead here. All the locals are babies and too busy holding onto the words of their parents. I can’t wait to tell Margie about Santa Claus,” Cortney continues laughing. However, I feel as though I hear screams passing through the high grass. And the flowers glisten as though it just rained, it did not.

My back slightly straightens as I grab the crust off my sandwich and place it next to the blanket, hiding my action from Cortney. I’m not sure why I do it, but it seems like the right thing to do.

Cortney tells stories about work, all ones I’ve heard before. I used to think it was because she wanted me to know, she wanted to share those experiences. But right now, I feel as though she just wants to hear herself talk. I know it’s rude to think that. But how can one be here, and not need to bathe in silence?

After her third story, I finally have the motivation to end her rambling. “Do you want to go on a walk?” As she nods I slide in, “a silent walk.” She frowns.

Trust me it isn’t her; I don’t know. Normally I don’t mind hearing her stories. And I usually don’t even call her out for details shifting each time she recalls it.

“Where do you want to go?” Her voice is flat, and her enthusiasm is now gone.

“We have never gone down that path,” I say, pointing to the one that circles around the hill. “I just want to absorb this time with you. Be one with nature, and you. That’s why I wanted it silent. So maybe we could hear the birds?” She nods but doesn’t say anything. I know it is going to take a second for her to warm back up to me. It normally does. And normally I feel bad for hurting her, even when it isn’t my intention.

But right now, oh I can’t explain. I want to shout. I want to push her far away and run in the opposite direction. Because it feels as though her wants are more important than mine. But what about the wants of the swaying grass? The unkempt trees, the foliage that my eyes keep getting lost in.

The path is not as travelled as the other ones, patches of dirt peeks through the blades of grass stuck to the ground; while others are mostly mud. As if we are the only ones brave enough to adventure around the hill. We are about halfway around when Cortney asks, “Am I annoying you?” It causes me to pivot.

“What? Of course not.” I grab her hands in mine. “Hey, baby I love you and I just want a nice calm lunch with you. There has just been a lot of drama in our lives and I need something calm.”

She nods again and brings me into a hug. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know everything has been a lot from work to the thing with your sister. I-” She takes a breath for a second. Pulls away from the hug and her eyes look behind me, as though transfixed. “I wasn’t sure if you needed some space with this all.” I shake my head. But part of me wants to say yes. To ask her to sit in the car for an hour.

Space means one thing to Cortney. And if I ask for space that means our relationship will come to an end. Maybe not today, but her trust that I love her will be gone and not return. “I don’t need space baby. I need you.” The cheesy line causes her to smile, and she brings me into a hug again, before kissing me.

It’s nice, at first, I felt as though the skyline, the dirt and the trees were all created just for this moment. Then the trees start to shake in anger, the grass tries to separate us, and the sun hits us for disrespecting this space. I press my lips to her forehead, to make sure that we won’t need to have the same conversation twice.

With me walking in front, her behind, and conjoined at the palms, Cortney takes it as though I do not want silence anymore.

“Do you believe that there are tons of sheep buried under there?” I don’t answer, I squeeze her. “Oh my god, you do?!” She slowly starts jumping up and down. “Tonya you do! You believe there are little sheep running the world.” At least her laugh returns. “Baaa baaa baa, did you understand me? Cause you’re a sheep follower.”

“I’m still a beginner,” I say as I force out a chuckle. “What did you say?”

“Take me to your leader” We stop walking so she can clutch her stomach as she laughs, occasionally letting out ‘baaa’s.’

“Okay Cortney, you’ve gotten very good at speaking to the sheep, you can stop now.” But she doesn’t, and the only thing that comes out of her mouth is her sheep impersonation, slowly getting more and more realistic. She snaps her head to look at me, covering her mouth. Her eyes are full and with each blink, more and more fear builds inside them. I cannot tell if she is trying to prank me or what she’s up to.

It isn’t until I hear laughing in the distance, and Cortney’s anxiety is only building that I realize that my brain is starting to think that sheep still run the world and now I’m shaking my head and yelling at Cortney to “snap out of it.”

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even baa anymore. Just squeezes my hand while tears stream from her pink puffy eyes and she bites her lip, causing it to quiver with no noise being released.