No One Leaves Purple Hill
The town of Purple Hill barely made the state map. It was the very definition of a small town. Main Street consisted of a few shops and a diner. It was small, but it was clean. And people were mostly pleasant. It was ideal in many ways.
The town was ringed by farms. The farms, in turn, were surrounded on all sides by a hill. In the springtime, the hill was covered in purple wildflowers, earning the hill and the town the same name.
There wasn’t much to do in Purple Hill besides chores, and a few social activities arranged by the town council. The annual town picnic in the spring was always popular. As was the yearly harvest festival. Despite the lack of regular excitement, most kids stayed and made Purple Hill home for life.
From an early age, children were warned that the world beyond the hill was dangerous. That people beyond the hill were savage, and they would only find trouble and ultimately meet their doom if they crossed into that world. The horror stories of the savage people’s wild and murderous ways were shared around many a campfire. So folks stayed — safe in their purple cocoon.
Now you may be wondering how the town got any supplies. It’s a fair question. And I will answer it.
Every generation, a young person or two were chosen to join the Travelers. Travelers were trained in the ways…
