Intergalactic Fly-Fishing

A Moment on the Hill

Matt arrived on Hurcott hill just as dusk was setting in.  He scanned the hill's crest in the failing light and stood on the edge, looking out at the fields below.  She should be here.  It was her place – his too.  Especially if something was wrong.  He looked at the gate below in the far left corner of the field.  That was her route.  She would climb over that gate and walk across the field until she reached the edge of the hill and then she would ascend.  He could picture her.  He just couldn't see her.

He scanned the area one last time and almost left.  Just then he noticed a small hunched figure by the blackberry bushes.  He sighed, went over to her and shrugged off his guitar, gently placing it on the dry grass.  Then he folded his tall legs to sit beside her.  Lucy was staring straight ahead.  She hugged her legs to her body and breathed.  They didn't speak.  It was a comfortable silence.  They had carefully tailored it over several years, and wore it well.  Matt took two bottles out of his pockets and with a click and a hiss he passed her a Bud.  She took it and sipped.

They watched the last embers of the sun dip behind the trees.  It was a warm night and it carried a breeze that felt fresh and good.  Flower-air filled their nostrils.  Lucy breathed deep, Matt sniffed.  The birds had given up the air to the bats, and Lucy felt one flit past her face, almost touching.  She sighed.  Matt looked at her with his serious eyes.

"Y'alright?" he said.

She nodded, "Yeah.  No.  Ok-ish."

Matt drained his beer and pulled out another two bottles.  He was like a magician sometimes, or Mary Poppins.  A click-hiss later and he handed her another bottle.

"A spoonful of sugar?" she said.

Matt smiled and picked up his guitar.  She was impressed that he'd managed to leave it alone for so long.  He strummed a few chords and hummed a little here and there and, in amongst it all, he flicked his eyes to her and said, "So, what's up?"

"Nothing really.  Just feel a bit weird."  They simultaneously sipped beers and Lucy half smiled at that.

"You know," said Matt, "we'd met her.  The old woman."

Lucy looked up and shook her head in that slow, disbelieving way.

"She came by the thrones the day before you found her.  The owl flew onto one of the seats." Matt smiled, "you should've seen Malcolm jump."  Lucy leant towards Matt as he took another swig.  "She seemed pretty cool," he said, "can't remember what we talked about." He stared into the night and let silence fall for a moment, "it's weird to think that we might have been the last people she spoke to."

"That owl..." said Lucy.  She absently traced the scabs on her arm.  The silence stretched between them.  "I got stung by a bee once," she said.  Matt rested his eyes on her.  Lucy stared at the fields rolling away from them, and the road in the far distance.  "I'd never been stung by a bee before.  Then, one day, I was clearing some rubbish from the garden... I picked up a piece of wood and I felt this sharp pin-pain.  When I pulled my hand back there was this bee, hanging from my thumb." She sipped her drink, "I turned the wood over and saw a spider's web.  The bee must have been caught.  I tried to shake it out, it just flopped about."  Lucy looked at Matt, "then I stopped and pulled it out.  Its body crumbled when I touched it; it was an empty shell.  I tried to remember what works with bee stings, vinegar, or something else..." Her eyes fell to the half empty bottle and the cool liquid sloshing from side to side as she twirled it between her palms.  "It was almost like it'd been there, waiting to sting something... ever since it got caught in the web."  Lucy looked Matt in the eye, "it's weird how things can sting, even when they're dead."