The Bull On The Hill

A bull sat atop a hill staring down at a group of villagers in the town below.

A man with a dark blue hat, and light blue overalls over a white shirt, looked up at the bull. He held a gun that was slung across his chest.

He wants to be ready for the bull. But, the bull is far too powerful from his anger, to be scared. He could possibly kill all of the villagers before the man empties the clip.

A woman with a floral dress, a worried look, and a watering can, stared up at the bull with her hand shielding her eyes; I guess from some imaginary sun.

“Why is the bull still on the hill?” I turned away from the model my brother made. It was for his short film. He would move the bull, villager, or even the whole area a little at a time. When he did it, he held his breath, and so did I in order not to throw him off. I messed him up once in the early stages of the film, and he got so mad at me he banned me from his room for five whole days. It was a lousy five days. I felt like the worst brother to ever exist. Luckily, my letter of apology and pledge to never disturb him again, won him over.

Now I was watching his setup of a green spray painted hill, clay and plastic people, and a bull that stood on the top of the hill, covering a brown desk he had also covered with fake grass. A camera was right in front of the desk. He had shoveled, mowed, and raked every yawn around our neighborhood for a year to get enough money for it (even then, mom spotted him a hundred dollars).

“He’s waiting.” He was standing off to the side putting on his black button down dress shirt. I was already dressed in my own button down black shirt, a black coat, and a blue tie that stuck out against the all black, but not without purpose.

“For what?” I asked.

“For a good enough reason to storm the town,” he responded nonchalantly.

“But isn’t the fact that they kept messing ‘round with him, and his family a good enough reason? You told me that they even killed his parents. He has to protect his kids.” I turned to face him, but his eyes stayed on his slacks, which he was putting on.

“Well yeah. He wants vengeance for his family, and wants to stop living in fear. But, look at the two little kids beside the man and woman. What do you think will happen to them if the bull goes down there?” I could hear him zip up his pants.

There was one little plastic boy that hid behind the mother. There was another boy that stood between the parents.

I looked to the side of the room with his bookcase, where a chair sat in front of it. A red tie hung over it. Beside the tie was a necklace. My mother told me it was called a “dog tag.” Around my neck was a medal. I had studied it for days, yet still didn’t know what to make of it. It didn’t seem nearly important enough as it should’ve been now.

He seemed to know what I was thinking would happen to the kids, and spoke up, “The bull is only mad at the adults for trapping him and harming him and his family. The bull does not want to hurt the other kids. But, if he goes...he will. And not only will those kids die, but his kids may too. And they’ll also lose their father if enough shots hit him.”

“So...he shouldn’t go down. He should just run away with his kids.”

“Then the people who’ve taken so much from him will still be there to hurt other bulls. He’s not only thinking about his family, but he’s thinking of every bull.”

I know now what he meant. Maybe I knew then too, but I didn’t quite know how to connect the dots completely and shook it out my head.

When I looked over at him, he was looking into the mirror with a frown plastered on his face. He kept straightening his already perfectly straight and neat jacket with his hands. He exhaled so hard I flinched, and then he turned to me with an attempt at a smile. He was attempting to be a good, strong big brother. He was attempting to lessen the feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I knew he held the same feeling and there was no way to get rid of it. At least, not with the weak smile he could manage.

“Well, I’m all ready. How about you?” He asked, almost scarily cheerful now. He had put on his tie while I stared at the bull. His eyes glistened. There were tears ready to perform, I looked away quickly to save him from the awkwardness of letting me see him reject them.

“Aren’t you gonna put on your...dog tag?” I asked, my fingers danced on the desk. I was always a nervous kid, and terrible at hiding it.

“I don’t think I can.” His voice seemed childlike, and distant then. I remembered he was only fifteen. He was not supposed to be “strong.” He was supposed to be hugged, and allowed to cry. Better yet, he was supposed to be on his way to have fun, to bask in his youth on this Sunday morning.

Morning. Another word to add to my “homophone” list for school.

Our mother’s voice cut the silence, and we both turned out heads to the door. She was telling us to come downstairs. I felt my feet plant themselves into the carpet.

I looked at him. I swear his body was tense and his hands moved from his sides to the top of his head. He seemed to have considered combing them through his hair before balling them up and placing them back at his side.

He walked out like a soldier ready for war.

My eyes returned to the bull, just sitting there ready for my brother to decide its fate. And a tear ran down my cheek.

Before I could decide against it, I had the metal bull in my palm, then in my pocket in one swift movement.

My mother called for me again. And I ran down out of the room, down the hall and down the stairs.

Once I reached the door, I stopped. My chest felt heavy, so I reached for the bull and kept my hand wrapped around it.

I looked at my mother who stood at the open door. She had on a black dress that came out slightly above her knees, a long black coat, and white gloves.

‘Your brother already ran to the car,” He probably didn’t want her to see him without his dog tag.

I gave her the best reassuring look I could manage, and she smiled back at me as I walked out the door. She followed behind.

Then the three of us were in the car. On our way to see our father.