One Came Down

Why on earth is this grass so tall?

Henry caught the last of his breath and then got to his feet. Tumble stood admiring the fields on the other side of the road who rolled on for miles. Each spindly plant stood drooped, the land void of wind or water.  

"Should we get going?" asked a quiet voice. "I know you don't like the dark."

 Tumble's eyes brightened over the field and nearly brought the plants back to life. 

"You remember?"

"Of course," said a smiling Henry. "You told me just moments ago."

The plants drooped. 

"Oh," said Tumble. "Oh yes."

Tumble pushed through the hedge into the wide crop field of drooping wheat. Henry looked with a caution from side to side almost ten times before scurrying across like a rabbit. 

"What is this, do you think? Wheat?" 

"Yes, it is. Corn used to grow here, of course. They replaced it with wheat after the fire."

"There was a fire?" said Henry. 

"Yes. It stretched across the whole field. All the village came to watch."

"Scary stuff," said Henry. 

"It was," replied Tumble. "You were there."

"I was?"

"You were," said Tumble. "You fell asleep just where we were, on the side of the road. When the fire got worse your parents carried you up the hill to get a better view. You were asleep the whole time."

"Oh," said Henry, confusion flooding his round face. "You have a good memory, don't you?"

"No," said Tumble. "My memories perfectly ordinary, Henry. You just seem to have a bad one."

"Oh. Do you think?" said Henry. "Well it was a very long time ago, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't so long ago."

The clouds above were heavier now. It could only be less than an hour before they caved in on themselves and the heavens fell. They passed through the crop fields together and crossed the road once more to a flatland of tall grass. Henry laughed a little as the grass tickled his legs. 

"Why on earth is this grass so tall," said Henry, batting it away with extravagant flicks of his hand. "Shouldn't somebody be cutting this?"

"It should be arranged by the Village Mothers Society. But I'm not sure they do anything. Nothing notable ever gets done."

"Why are they still here then?" said Henry. He tilted his head at different dark bugs who played on the dry wheat. 

"They do so little we've forgotten they're there I suppose." 

Tumble looked up at the sky. 

"It'll be dark soon."

"Why is it you're so worried about the dark, Tumble?" 

"It's frightening, don't you think?"

Henry smiled.

"You're such a child, Tumble," he laughed. Tumble smiled. 

"We both are."

As Henry's breath grew heavier he looked around for a place of rest and spotted a tiny brick bridge that gently reached over a small stream in the middle of the field. The stream itself was so small one could step from one end to the other. There tide of the water was weak. 

The pair settled down on the bridge, hovering their legs above the weak little stream where grass grew bent-over and a thousand crickets cried in the shrubbery and the cold. 

Henry grew a little restless and rustled his hand into his pocket, pulling out a beige packet of cigarettes. Tumble's eyes widened as he caught sight of the things in his tiny, pale, smooth hands. Henry kept going and pulled out a lighter, long and silver. He tugged at one of those white lengths in the packet and lit its end. He brought it to a pair of smooth, damp lips. His face screwed up and smoke poured out of his small, open mouth. 

"What on earth are you doing?" said Tumble with horror. 

"What do you mean?" asked Henry, shocked by this sudden outburst. 

"I didn't know you smoked."

"The last time we met I was eleven," said Henry blankly. "You didn't expect me to smoke at eleven, did you?"

"I didn't expect you to smoke now," said Tumble. Henry nearly frowned for a second and set his smoking hand down.  

"Are you upset, Tumble?" 

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"How would you know," said Tumble and Henry looked blank. "We're too young. You shouldn't do a thing like that."

"We're growing up now Tumble. I think-"

"It doesn't matter what you think Henry!" cried Tumble and Henry jumped, nearly falling from the little bridge. "It's bad for your health! You're mustn't do it!"

Henry's lips quivered. He stared down the barrel of Tumble's eyes. He hesitated. Tumble threw himself to his feet and marched away from the bridge. 

"You seem so stressed Tumble," called Henry. "Would you like a cigarette? It'll calm your nerves!" 

No one heard him. 

Henry puffed away as Tumble strayed further, growing smaller in the field. 

He stopped till he was fuzzy in Henry's eyes. He waited.