Red Sand Hill
Published 2006 in WhatIf! Magazine
Every day Jacoline Mackay walked the winding road to her school on Red Sand Hill. It was a quiet walk so she’d often stopped to gaze at the landscape painted beside her, earth bare as bone. Twisted trees stood crippled and brittle. Tiny weeds protruded from dusty soil, a rusty gold like overcooked toast. And then there were the creatures. A solitary roadrunner darting across her path after a tiny lizard whose eyes were white in fear. The roadrunner knew no pity. Presently, Jacoline journeyed on.
She passed an abandoned barn, smashed to splinters by previous storms. Logs, shingles, and peeled lead paint speared the shifting sands. If one looked hard enough the charred remains of large-boned mammals were visible. Jacoline moved on.
Then there was a tadpole, the lone survivor in its dusty pool. The water was dyed dark red and nearly gone so Jacoline leaned down and scooped up the tiny being in her small hands. Lifting the water bottle from her bag, she gently dropped the tadpole inside. It would be alright. She still had a long way to go.
Trudging on she came across a cluster of impoverished individuals lying on the roadside. Scared but sure footed, she pressed on. Her approach revealed that there were four: an elderly woman, a girl, a man and a boy. They waved to her cheerfully as she passed and the elder handed her a loaf of bread. Jacoline was confused and a little angry. How could they be happy when they were starving with no place to call home? So she continued walking.
Eventually she came upon a group of her classmates playing marbles under a pair of gnarled old trees. Their joy was almost a stench. She felt herself overflowing with the desire to join them. I can shoot as good as any; she thought but ventured on without being seen. Further up the path another group was playing kickball. Jacoline brushed dusty sand hair from her eyes and watched as one boy shot the ball toward her. Catching it, her skin cracking as it moved, she saw them approach, one by one, molded from the blowing earth.
“Come play with us, Jacoline,” one of them mouthed.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Responded another.
“Aren’t you going to school?” Jacoline asked.
“Nah, learned all we need to,” a shadow by her side said, “come play with us.”
“No thanks,” Jacoline threw the ball back to them, “I need to get to school, my tadpole will probably need more water.”
Slowly, the kids filed back to their places on the field. Jacoline moved on.
Just beyond them the hill grew steeper and Jacoline had to grab hold of the lose rocks to keep from slipping on the silken particles. Her throat was parched, but she could not let the tadpole die. Years seemed to slither by as she climbed, the mountains scrambling over one another to beat her. Only when she’d breached the peak did she allow herself a moment to double over and catch her breath. Sweat dripped methodically from her forehead, her sides aching as though she had been struck by a horsehide whip.
Removing the bottle from her bag, she checked on her tadpole. He was hungry so she pinched off a few crumbs from the loaf of bread and dropped them in. Then she secured his home and began the downhill slide.
She must have been delusional because screams echoed over the dunes. Blood-freezing cries, soulless and pain-filled. Rot choked her nose, her eyes recognising the sculls of cattle being picked clean by red-eyed vultures. She kept going.
Then she heard squeaking. Despite her fatigue she broke into a run, the deathly screams vanishing behind her. She nearly missed the tiny mouse lying on the faded road. A golden snake was slithering forward, fangs wide in anticipation of fresh, hot blood. Jacoline threw down her bag, the water bottle clutched to her pounding chest. The serpent gave a hysterical hiss and disappeared into the sand. The mouse turned its head weakly to face her.
“You poor thing,” she murmured, pouring a portion of the tadpole’s water into her palm so he could drink it. Retrieving her pack, she also pulled forth the bread and let him nibble. He remained scared so she held him close to her heart until his shivering ceased. Then his small form melted away and in her arms was a boy.
Falling back she saw him crouching beside her, a kind smile on his dry lips. “I’ve learned many things on this earth,” he whispered, gently taking her hand, “but you have shown me something truly great.”
He helped her regain her footing and together they journeyed the rest of the way to Red Sand Hill. Hand in hand, they reached the gate of the school. The tadpole became a frog who summoned enough water to make the playground green with life. Lush plants and exotic trees sprouted before Jacoline’s astonished gaze and she danced among the sparkling waterfall that poured from the building’s roof.
When she looked again for the boy and the frog they were gone. Running to the doors of her school Jacoline thought, with a smile, that she would travel that same road tomorrow.
© Katarina Claire E.R.
Every day Jacoline Mackay walked the winding road to her school on Red Sand Hill. It was a quiet walk so she’d often stopped to gaze at the landscape painted beside her, earth bare as bone. Twisted trees stood crippled and brittle. Tiny weeds protruded from dusty soil, a rusty gold like overcooked toast. And then there were the creatures. A solitary roadrunner darting across her path after a tiny lizard whose eyes were white in fear. The roadrunner knew no pity. Presently, Jacoline journeyed on.
She passed an abandoned barn, smashed to splinters by previous storms. Logs, shingles, and peeled lead paint speared the shifting sands. If one looked hard enough the charred remains of large-boned mammals were visible. Jacoline moved on.
Then there was a tadpole, the lone survivor in its dusty pool. The water was dyed dark red and nearly gone so Jacoline leaned down and scooped up the tiny being in her small hands. Lifting the water bottle from her bag, she gently dropped the tadpole inside. It would be alright. She still had a long way to go.
Trudging on she came across a cluster of impoverished individuals lying on the roadside. Scared but sure footed, she pressed on. Her approach revealed that there were four: an elderly woman, a girl, a man and a boy. They waved to her cheerfully as she passed and the elder handed her a loaf of bread. Jacoline was confused and a little angry. How could they be happy when they were starving with no place to call home? So she continued walking.
Eventually she came upon a group of her classmates playing marbles under a pair of gnarled old trees. Their joy was almost a stench. She felt herself overflowing with the desire to join them. I can shoot as good as any; she thought but ventured on without being seen. Further up the path another group was playing kickball. Jacoline brushed dusty sand hair from her eyes and watched as one boy shot the ball toward her. Catching it, her skin cracking as it moved, she saw them approach, one by one, molded from the blowing earth.
“Come play with us, Jacoline,” one of them mouthed.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Responded another.
“Aren’t you going to school?” Jacoline asked.
“Nah, learned all we need to,” a shadow by her side said, “come play with us.”
“No thanks,” Jacoline threw the ball back to them, “I need to get to school, my tadpole will probably need more water.”
Slowly, the kids filed back to their places on the field. Jacoline moved on.
Just beyond them the hill grew steeper and Jacoline had to grab hold of the lose rocks to keep from slipping on the silken particles. Her throat was parched, but she could not let the tadpole die. Years seemed to slither by as she climbed, the mountains scrambling over one another to beat her. Only when she’d breached the peak did she allow herself a moment to double over and catch her breath. Sweat dripped methodically from her forehead, her sides aching as though she had been struck by a horsehide whip.
Removing the bottle from her bag, she checked on her tadpole. He was hungry so she pinched off a few crumbs from the loaf of bread and dropped them in. Then she secured his home and began the downhill slide.
She must have been delusional because screams echoed over the dunes. Blood-freezing cries, soulless and pain-filled. Rot choked her nose, her eyes recognising the sculls of cattle being picked clean by red-eyed vultures. She kept going.
Then she heard squeaking. Despite her fatigue she broke into a run, the deathly screams vanishing behind her. She nearly missed the tiny mouse lying on the faded road. A golden snake was slithering forward, fangs wide in anticipation of fresh, hot blood. Jacoline threw down her bag, the water bottle clutched to her pounding chest. The serpent gave a hysterical hiss and disappeared into the sand. The mouse turned its head weakly to face her.
“You poor thing,” she murmured, pouring a portion of the tadpole’s water into her palm so he could drink it. Retrieving her pack, she also pulled forth the bread and let him nibble. He remained scared so she held him close to her heart until his shivering ceased. Then his small form melted away and in her arms was a boy.
Falling back she saw him crouching beside her, a kind smile on his dry lips. “I’ve learned many things on this earth,” he whispered, gently taking her hand, “but you have shown me something truly great.”
He helped her regain her footing and together they journeyed the rest of the way to Red Sand Hill. Hand in hand, they reached the gate of the school. The tadpole became a frog who summoned enough water to make the playground green with life. Lush plants and exotic trees sprouted before Jacoline’s astonished gaze and she danced among the sparkling waterfall that poured from the building’s roof.
When she looked again for the boy and the frog they were gone. Running to the doors of her school Jacoline thought, with a smile, that she would travel that same road tomorrow.
© Katarina Claire E.R.
