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The Collision

     The day started out innocently with the sun shining merrily. The sky a poignant backdrop that declared to all who gazed upon it..., summer. Only hints of clouds every now and then floating by as if dandelion wishes in the sky. Continuously warping, mashing, and contorting into mysterious shapes; Ever on the move. The elegant jive of the tree tops bending and twisting provided weighted evidence of the wind.  Yet down below not a thing stirred. The grass was deathly still. Reminiscent of soldiers on watch standing straight and tall, never wavering and deadly to an unwarily bared human foot. Their green was one that glowed, like the best cared for and polished officer’s uniform. Their tops were sharper than a soldier's bayonet; a vast and unconquerable army stationed, in the area known as Happy Hills. Far and wide it stretched never daunted by knolls or the occasionally deserted car. It continued on growing, glowing, and glaring at any who dared to try and enter. Sharpening its tops in hopes of one day eliminating its various enemies. From afar this valley lived up to its name. Appearing gay without a worry in the world with the sun beaming down beckoning those near and far to come play.

      In stark contrast Forlorn Fields contained different joie de vivre. The field reverberated with the sound of children running around with an energy that teachers’ envy. Harried parents race behind them, loudly scolding their children. Euphoric dogs of all ages gathered and played with their human pack members. While insects weaved a delicate yet precise dance as they went about their business.  The little grass left yielded beneath the clothed feet and paws of the ever-changing occupants. Dotted sparsely across the field in zealously guarded spots of shade were vendors. They blasted their music and called out to entice the unwary children and money deprived parents to their locations. Yes, from this valley of Forlorn Fields, Happy Hills looked quite a prize, the perfect place to have a picnic. And many a newcomer has headed toward Happy Hills with hopes of a quieter location where one need not be on the lookout for mini bulldozers (kids), food thieves (dogs) and hand launched missiles or worse (Frisbees, baseballs and dog poop, oh my!). 

     Yet as they drew closer to Happy Hills their steps faltered midway as a seemingly inexplicable feeling of intense unease crested upon them. Some turned back at this point but many others continued onward their steps decreasing in length. The joy that precipitated the move dissipating in the wake of their body's instinctive awareness of danger. It is only as they neared the unmarked boundary between Forlorn Fields and Happy Hills territory that they registered where the sensation of unsettledness descended. It wasn't that the sounds of the area were too loud. It was the absence of sound that raised the neck hairs in primitive warning. One often unheeded by many. Nervously laughed about and shrugged off. After all the quiet was why they had decided to come. There would be no dogs and children running wild, there were no harried parents, no flying objects to duck and dodge. It was after all what made Happy Hills appealing from afar.  The absence of the background drone of insects as they go about their business in such a nature filled area was unsettling to say the least. But to those who continued onward they saw it as only another reason why Happy Hills was much better than Forlorn Fields.

      Such was the case with the Monroe family. The Monroe family was a family just like any other. It had the two loving and doting parents that had just the right amount of discipline and love for their two children. That isn't to say that they got the mixture right all the time. As with any parent the Monroes sometimes struggled with the amount of ingredients for their mixture of discipline and love. Point in fact the time when Johnathan Monroe now ten years old was two was quite a trying time for Mother and Father Monroe. The only words he would say were 'Negative' or 'Hell Naw.'

     It was of course entirely Father Monroe's fault as he was on an Ice Cube binge that weekend and didn't realize the damage that was being wrought in the mind of the very impressionable two-year-old that was Johnathon at the time. Granted he thought that he was sleeping and was too into the movies to realize that he had awoken half way through and was paying special attention to the words that Father Monroe liked to repeat hence the fixture on ‘Hell Naw’ and ‘Negative’. Needless to say, Mother Monroe was not at all happy with Johnathon's new favorite words and Father Monroe was convinced that she would never let him forget it. Of course, he was correct and it didn't help matters that he was more or less secretly amused by his son's language choice. He took great joy in its shock value towards older people. They often had a dazed and confused expression after Johnathon's adamant refusal of "Hell Naw" when asked if he wanted a hug. Now although Johnathon's vocabulary has grown exponentially, he still loves to say ‘Negative’ and ‘Hell Naw.’

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

     "Dad I'm tired of playing at Forlorn Fields. Can we play at Happy Hills?" begged Johnathon.

       "Why?" questioned Father Monroe "I thought you enjoyed roughhousing with the other children. It's not often we get out here you know and its quite..., lovely." Choked out Father Monroe while dodging a frisbee and swatting mosquitoes.

      "Yeah, it is, but I am tired of playing over here. Plus, there isn't that much shade especially since we got here late. And you knooow how much I hate eating ant and jelly sandwiches." whined Johnathon.

     "Yeah" seconded his sister, Justicè "Its Groossss Daddy! Puhhhlease can we eat at Happy Hills it looks way calmer over there anyway." added Justicè.

     "No little missiles to dodge," said Johnathon wistfully

     "No thieves to protect your food from" cried Justicè happily

     "AAAAnd best of all no ant and jelly sandwiches!!!" said the siblings together.

     'Well… thought Father Monroe it would be nice not to have to dodge missiles and to not run after thieves. I'm too old for that now. My knees are killing me.' He looked at Mother Monroe who was looking towards Happy Hills with a thoughtful expression.

     'Hmm Happy Hills,... it does look mighty peaceful over there and it woould be nice to have jelly sandwiches without the ants. Although they are a good source of protein, thought Mother Monroe but as nice as it looks why isn't anyone else over there? SUSPICIOUS!!!' While Mother Monroe was pondering why she never saw anyone at Happy Hills a couple of meters away some kids were practicing for the upcoming Moody Town Frisbee championships.

     “CCCCAAALLLVVVIIINNN!!!” called Mrs. H’onker be careful with that Frisbee remember what happened last time.

"Yeah, MOM I am!!!" As Calvin retracted his arm to throw the Frisbee to Mark the wind gusted by shutting his eyes quickly Mark held on to the Frisbee and turned his back to the wind waiting until it died down. 'Phee, that was a close one' he thought as he flashed back to the time last year when he'd thrown the Frisbee just as a gust of wind blew in.  He could only watch helplessly as the frisbee hurtled off course; aimed instead at an elderly man's head. Although Calvin called out a warning; the poor old man just wasn't fast enough. The Frisbee caught him right at the temple and knocked him flat on his back. With the help of bystanders, the old man eventually got up. Everyone asked him if he was okay but he only brushed them off and shook his fist at Calvin.  Turning his back, he hobbled away with his cane towards Happy Hills fussing under his breath loud enough for Calvin to hear,

     "these dang gun whippersnappers."

      Of course, he didn't actually say it that way but Calvin's Mom always seemed to know when he was thinking about cuss words so he learned to pg-13 every thought whenever his Mom was in arm distance. After the old man disappeared swallowed by the tree line, he got a loud earful from his Mom. Even though he told her several times "It was an ACCC-CIII-DENT!!!!!" and he said he was sorry.'  It served only to increase his mother’s tirade.

     As the gust came to an end Calvin sighed in relief, ‘Whew! Dodge that bullet… this time’ he thought as his arm flew outwards towards Mark who was posed to catch the Frisbee.

      "I got it!! I got it!!!" as Mark ran to catch it, he paid no attention to the direction he was going. Those who saw him coming got out of his way yelling at him for making them move. Mark paid no attention by this time used to the way that the park occupants behaved towards one another.

     "Dude you got it!!! You got it!!!" As Calvin egged Mark on, he noticed that one park occupant wasn't moving but was looking towards Happy Hills with a thoughtful expression. "OOOOYYYYY Watch OUT!!!" yelled Calvin but it was too late. Time slowed as he watched it all play out.

     The lady turned her head, her eyes widening with surprise and horror as she finally noticed the ten-year old's body that was heading towards her. As she tensed to move out of the way Mark jumped for the Frisbee his only thought of catching it. 

     He stretched out his hands snatching his victory from the air all while he continued his backwards dive. Two things registered to Mark. One they were totally going to win the championship game. Second something soft and warm was at his back, giving way under his weight.

      The lady fell back, her body cushioning Mark's fall, her eyes appearing comically wide to Mark. Mark's own face was one of elation and surprise which quickly changed to horror and fear at the sight of pain on Mother Monroe's face as her body smashed into the ground with enough force to echo in the sudden silence throughout Forlorn Fields.

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