Down by the Pitch Lake

The sun beat down in its monotone tempo sucking the energy out of everything.
The Pitch Lake was now soft and pliable.I had a stick which I stuck into the asphalt till it was coated.

I heard a rustling behind me and sprang up in fear. A face poked through the grass - he was about my own age, maybe a head taller. He also had a stick and with the wordless understanding of men - we had a fierce fight. The asphalt causing our swords to join passionately, before being wrenched apart. For almost an hour - among the grass and pitch- we fought.

He was different to me. He interested me, and in the hot, sweaty, quietness , I knew I intrigued him equally.

We arranged to meet again that night to watch the stars.

That night, I crept out eagerly and quietly raced through the rustling grass until I reached the Lake's edge.He had not arrived yet, so I waited excitedly.

I awoke the next morning in an itchy bed of grass. He had never come.

My heart was heavy and bursting. I slowly made my way home - hoping he might still come.

The beating Granny gave me must have resounded throughout the country. My backside was re-colored purple.

That evening as I nursed both my sore rear and broken heart, there was a call at the door.

He stood there grinning,shyly, and my heart leapt and shrunk at the same time as I fought back both my smile and suspicions.

He encouraged me on while turning at the same time. I spotted the black marks of hours old bruises along the back of his legs ; he had not betrayed me. Smiling , I grabbed his outstretched hand and together, we laughingly ran towards the sun's embrace.