The Playhill

The boy crosses the red bicycle bridge excitedly, the sound of his tires running across the wood making him feel like he’s riding a moped. His small feet are pushing the tiny pedals round as fast as he can. He follows the red path to the left, zips past the ugly concrete apartment building on his right followed immediately by the huge hill filled with adventure. He was supposed to meet his friends there.

Their little gang was quite something . There was himself of course, he fancied himself the leader of the bunch. Although the rest would probably not agree at all. Lisa was the loudest of them all. Her long dark hair would get all tangled up as she climbed pretty much any tree she could find. Little Tim, he was the youngest. “By only 2 months!” He would exclaim. His scruffy blonde hair always a mess. And then there was Leo, she was the quietest. When she looked at him with her huge blue eyes, her blond hair curling around her cheeks, he would feel all funny inside. He had no idea why that was, or what to do with himself, so he would tease her a lot instead.

He jumps from his bike and stands there panting looking for his friends. But they are nowhere to be found. Suddenly he hears a small giggle, he is quite sure it was Leo. “Are you hiding?” He shouts. “Yes!” He hears, followed by more giggles. He laughs and carefully puts down his bike on the murky grass surrounding him. “Ok, here I come!” He runs all the way up to the lookout tower on top of the hill. Surely he will be able to find them easily when he’s up there. When he reaches the large wooden structure, he quickly grabs on to the small stairs leading up into the tower. When he reaches the top, he leans out over the edge taking in his surroundings carefully.

Nothing to see near the rope castle, it would be a bad hiding place anyway. When he hears a rustle behind him he turns around quickly. The pipe! Of course! He quickly stumbles down from the tower. He rans down the hill so fast, he almost falls. When he reaches the large pipe he jumps in and shouts “Gotcha!” To an empty pipe. The only thing he sees are the row of identical houses lining the other side of the hill. Old man Bill is standing in his little front garden, waving at him. When he waves back, he smiles and gestures towards the swings on the right. His friends must be there hiding in the bushes! Grinning widely, he thanks the old man by holding up his thumb.

This time, he is a bit more careful. He doesn’t want to let them know he already knows where they are. He slowly walks down, pretending to still be searching for them. When he reaches the bottom he shifts pace. He runs straight past the swings and jumps head first into the bushes surrounding them. When he crashes in he hears laughter surrounding. His friends scurry off in all directions, desperately trying to get away from him again.

“You’re not getting away from me!”

This story was written as an assignment of a creative writing course.