Castle on the Hill

1

Fifteen years ago....

A six year old Tom giggled wildly, racing down the hill, brushing with his fingertips the blades of grass above his waist. He sprinted fast, far away from the old whitewashed two story farmhouse with a third floor on a tower that could overlook the wide hills and mountains of the area. The boy could feel the wind rushing through his lungs, making him more excited and sprint faster.

"TOM!!!" A shout was heard from behind. Tom glanced behind his back to see that his nine year old brother John was angrily running after him along with a few of his friends. "Get back over here and give baseball back!!"

The young boy glanced at the worn baseball in his hands. It had a faded signature of some baseball player on it, but he didn't really care. At first Tom just wanted to see what the big fuss was (John and his other friends had gotten excited over the old rare ball) but then he realized he missed  all the attention John used to give him. He and his brother used to be so close, why can't they be that close now?

"Thomas you better give that back or I swear...." the owner of the ball, Jayden, shouted after Tom. John raised his eyebrows, sending Jayden an overly protective brotherly look, warning him to choose his next words carefully. "Ok fine just please give it back!!!"

"No!" Tom called back, giggling, not paying attention to where he was going.

"Tommy look out!" John called, but it was too late: his little brother had tripped over a large rock, sending him hurtling down the hill. John screamed his brother's name, running faster after Tom.

  From the farmhouse their mother Mary, who had been watching the boys, also shouted her youngest son's name, sprinting as fast as she could down the hill. She was a kind woman with long curly black hair that was held in a messy bun and bright blue eyes, and was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. "THOMAS!!!!"

  A loud crunch and a scream of pain was heard, and Tom has stopped rolling, but he groaned and clutched his left leg. Mary ran even faster, beating her other son and sliding on her knees to her younger son, wrapping her arms around him. "Tommy, you ok?"

"It hurts mommy," Tom whimpered, burying his head in his mother's knack, stick clutching his leg with pain. Mary Johnson carefully looped her arm under both his legs, lifting the small boy up.

  "It's gonna be ok sweetheart," she whispered, standing up with Tom in her arms. By that time John and his friends had already arrived, giving his brother a concerned and apologetic look.

"Is he gonna be ok mom?" John asked worriedly, standing on the tips of his toes to get a better look at his brother.

"I don't know, but I'm going to take him to the hospital, you and your friends go down to your grandpa and uncle's for now," the mother instructed, rushing back to the house to get to the truck.

"Yes ma'am," John called back, beckoning for his friends to follow. They walked through the forest to Winston Johnson's home where their grandpa Winston and his son Felix lived. It was an old wooden two story cabin with random old things scattered don the yard, with old furnishings and photos covering the porch. John pulled open the screen door, pushing the old red door open and leading his friends inside. They entered the small living room, cluttered with trash and bits of things with untidy old furniture and several doors leading to other rooms. The inside gave quiet a mix of stenches, including garbage and alcohol.

"Tommy's hurt, mom took him to the hospital," John explained to his uncle, who was slumped on the messy couch eating nachos and watching something on the old television. "Mom said to stay with you."

"M'kay," Uncle Felix replied, not looking up. "Your grandpa's out on a hunting trip, don't break anything."

The older child of Mary Johnson sighed, leading his friends back outside. They found some old frayed baseball gloves and played catch with Jayden's ball (he had grabbed it from the ground when Tom had fell) as John continued to worry.

John and his little brother were extremely close, especially after their father went off to deployment in Iraq and was never able to come home. He had sort of become the father figure in Tom's life, and worried immensely about his little brother.

A couple hours later Mary's '60s pickup truck pulled up the driveway of Winston's cabin. John, who's friends had left long ago, dropped what he was doing and ran up to the truck when it stopped. Mrs. Johnson climbed out of the truck, going over to the passenger's seat, pulling her younger son out. Tom had a large cast on his left leg, wincing as his mother gingerly checked it to make sure it was still intact before pulling him out.

"Johnny!" Tom exclaimed, hopping from his mother's grasp and limping over to his brother, who pulled him into a tight hug.

"Are you ok Tommy?" John asked.

"The doctor says I broke my leg, but I'll be fine."

"I'm glad, I'm sorry Tommy."

"It's ok, I'm sorry for stealing."

"Awwww," Mrs, Johnson cooed, beaming at her sons. "You two are too cute. Well hop in, let's go back home."

  The older brother climbed into the seat, turning back to the open door. His mother gingerly lifted Tom into his lap, and John wrapped his arms around his little brother as Tom rested his head on his brother's chest. Mary got in and they drove through the winding dirt roads home, Tom falling asleep to the sound of his older brother's beating heart.