Sunny Day

For when you're hungry of summer.

The clearing covered an area of approximately half a square mile at the top of Brenny Hill. Tall, green, lively grass covered it’s surface, with a few maple shrubs here and there. To the west and north great alder trees were crumpled together, united in what we call a forest, while if you were to head south or east from the clearing, you would go downhill until reaching the Brenny village. The clearing is sectioned diagonally by a trail, with one side of it getting lost in the forest and the other guiding you to the aforementioned settlement. In the middle of the clearing there is a primitively designed fireplace (basically a hole in the ground with some rocks on it’s edge) and a few logs around it. In a certain, ordinary summer day, George and James were struck by the desire to climb the hill and enjoy the sunny landscape. That is, George was struck by it, and talked James into coming with him. It was always like that, really, even since they were little kids; James was a scrawny, skinny little boy, always wearing headphones, always keeping his head down, only going out when he was called out. George, on the other hand, enjoyed the outdoors, had a more athletic build, a big self-esteem and a fruitful amount of charisma. Brenny village is not a big place; it’s your regular one-town: one elementary, one high school, one church, one stadium, one everything. In places as such, hangout places are a rarity, and the clearing was a favourite choice of many Brenny inhabitants. At about 3 in the afternoon George phoned James and they met up at the base of Brenny Hill. The climb was banter, which mostly meant George fueling the conversation with questions while James promptly and shortly answered, seemingly bored out of his mind. Upon entering the clearing, George brought up the big news. “What’s up?” James replied. “Umm, you know how I signed up at Brennan’s University, down in Briar Valley? I… I got accepted. I’m starting courses in September”. An awkward silence ensued, James finally getting his head up, looking straight into George’s face with a disappointed and sad figure. Then he spoke “It’s ok George, I know it’s what you want. I know it’s what suits you. But for the last time, I am not coming with. I know how to programme very well and I am earning just as well without higher education. Now why the f**k did you get me up here, we should be down at Angela’s, celebrating. Our boy has spread his wings and flies away come autumn”. That last part had a strong sarcastic flavour to it. Then George smiled, slid his hand down a back pocket and brought out a little bag containing 2 enormous cannabis buds. James’ eyes fixed on the green package, widened and flickered with joy, his whole face molded by excitement. “It’s that good sativa from Warmouth.” George explained “You better like the s**t, I drove 2 hours to get it”. His friend agreed and urged him to roll a joint, for “testing purposes”. The clock stroke 5 and half and the duo were properly stoned, after 3 weed-infused paper happy-packs. They sat on the logs and talked about all the crazy things that came to mind. It was at times like these James truly opened up. This was the main reason George liked to smoke with his friend, so that they could talk freely. Anxiety, fear, and all impediments of the kind were lost. James’ head was raised high, both literally and figuratively, his voice stronger, his thoughts exposed. That once silent mouth was now filled with words, sentences and full-on philosophical commentaries. Added to the open-discussion was the extremely positive feeling given by the day. Under the influence of THC, the sun got stronger, vibrating light in waves of warmth, filling the scenery with color. Oh yes, the colors were astonishing, more intense than ever. The grass was as green as it could get, the brown of alder trunks contrasting with it and the powerful blue of the clear sky looming above them all. “Man, remember when we were little? No worries in the world, we would just roam this hill from dusk to dawn, fighting the Pine Warriors, the Alder Guardians, the Birch Scouts… those were the days” James blabbered out, his speech obviously affected by the cannabis. They both remembered. It was a carefree, stress-free, imagination-filled time. They would ascend the hill after school, loadout from the clearing and scrutinize the forest in search of foes to defeat and nobles to save. It was always the same, George would be the courageous, strong soldier with the help of the stealthy, quick rogue that James would impersonate. Back then they didn’t need weed to run their mind in such a creative, engaging manner. Trees were soldiers of a multitude of empires, branches were greatswords forged from the strongest, finest steel there ever was. Bushes were chests filled with the treasures of a thousand kingdoms, mud was traps set for them by malevolent wizards. Such time of fairytale and adventure was long lost, but something was not. In the test of time, there was an element that passed, an element that brought it all back from memory. That formula-saving element, is our life-giving, life-guarding Star- the Sun. In hot, summer days like these, even without the aid of psychedelic substances, human beings enter a certain transe. The vigorousity with which the Sun fills our world with color, is unique, and acts more powerful than anything. As such James and George’s vision was filled with the glee of the summer haze they have lived through. “James, let’s hunt the Sentinel once more. Let’s kill the alders, the pines, all of them, once more. I head out soon, now’s a good time as any”. A bit reluctant at first, James finally agreed, so they fancied themselves two swords, and there you had it, two 19 year olds running through the forest, sticks in hands, aimlessly hitting at the trees. It was good fun for about an hour, but that’s when they made it to the old cabin, where the Great Sentinel stood. Steeling for the final battle, James and George spoke encouraging words to each other, and then stroke at the arbor with a fearsome and long-lost wrath. And laughs. A lot of laughs. Their swords now battered and broken from the impact with such a great amount of enemies, our heroes claimed the bounty from the Great Chest at the foot of the Sentinel and set for home. For old times’ sake, they took a different route this time, through the western pine forest, which was thicker and darker. James was in his element in such a dingy place, but George didn’t like it very much. Paranoia seized the latter, the weed much at fault, causing the way back to be a gruesomely bad experience. James didn’t seem bugged at all, smiling and trying to calm down George, who was, at this point, shrunk to a powerless little thing, but it didn’t work. In the once great warrior’s sight, pines were leaning down on the trail, trying to crush him. Their needles grew sharper and were hunting for his face, their cones grew heavier, like cannon balls, and were trying to crack his skull. The trunks were not expressionless, but rather had disturbing, cruel faces drawn on them. What was blowing through the air was not wind, but the haunting voice of a million demons calling out his name, searching for his soul. The unsettling image disappeared once the two made it back to the clearing. The sight was now a much familiar, positive one. The sun still, unmistakably, filled the place. It was near sunset, and James and George were happy. They were never going to be children again, they were never going to live the easy life, but they were content. Today, was a sunny day. Tomorrow, will be as well.

Author's Note

Hi! This story is the result of the unsatiated need I have for summer to come. :D

Reviews

[CRBain]

I actually love this. I have a few nitpicks but It's nothing that you can't fix with editing. Honestly, this is one of the more solid stories i've read on this site so far. Keep it up, I want to see more!