Week 4 Theme: The Man On The Hill

We hacked and sliced at the trees, shaping logs to reinforce our tree fort. The fort was positioned at the end of an old rock wall about 1000 feet into the woods behind our homes. The wall had been built over one hundred years ago when this property was owned by the Black family in Ellsworth. My friends and I theorized that it must have once contained a flock of sheep or something. Now it was the road that led us to our largest tree fort yet.

The fort had two parts; one on the ground with logs propped up against one of the tree’s large branches that jutted out towards a hill, and the other on the same large branch. The lower part of the fort was shaped like an isosceles triangle or wedge. Our task today was to reinforce the lower part by adding logs and then covering the surface with evergreen branches. After that we had planned to start work on the upper deck. Our plans were halted, however, by a series of strange events that are still unexplainable, even today.

As we toiled on our fort, probably the fifth one we had built in these woods, one of my friends suddenly yelled out.

“Hey! Look.”

We turned to see what he was pointing at only to look upon a man standing about thirty or forty feet away at the top of the nearby hill. We all fell silent as we were nervous that this might in fact be his land we were rapidly developing. His face was obscured and slightly silhouetted by the setting sun at his back. The strangest part about him, however, was what looked like a parrot standing on his shoulder like he was a pirate. I could hardly comprehend what I was looking at. He stood there as stoic as a Greek column.

The forest fell silent for what seemed like forever until finally one of us, I forget who, said to the man on the hill, “Hello?”

He said nothing, and then walked away over the crest of the hill.

We looked at each other and postulated who, or what, this man was. We decided to go after him and find out. Less than a minute after he had walked off, we charged up the hill yelling hello into the empty woods. We spread out and took every path we knew of, which was every path that was carved into those woods. We searched and searched and searched, to no avail. We hollered and yelled but could not find the man. It was as if he had literally disappeared.

A short time later, days or weeks, there was a large lighting storm. The next day we tromped through the woods and down the rock wall road only to find that our fort by the hill had been hewn by a lighting bolt. The large branch that had supported the structure was sliced at the trunk of the tree. The fort was left abandoned.

Who was the mysterious man on the hill?

Somewhat Exaggerated:

We hacked and sliced at the trees, shaping logs to reinforce our tree fort. The fort was positioned at the end of an old rock wall about 1000 feet into the woods behind our homes. The wall had been built over one hundred years ago when this property was owned by the Black family in Ellsworth. My friends and I rebuilt it stone by stone over the course of a few summers. Now it was the road that led us to our largest tree fort yet.

The fort had two parts; one on the ground with logs propped up against one of the tree’s large branches that jutted out towards a hill, and the other on the same large branch. The lower part of the fort was shaped like an isosceles triangle or wedge. It was a huge edifice that rose twenty feet into the lower canopy. It had pulleys and cranes that allowed us to lift the heavier logs. Our task today was to reinforce the lower part by adding logs and then covering the surface with tar and pitch, making the fort entirely water-tight. After that we had planned to start work on the upper deck. Our plans were halted, however, by a series of strange events that are still unexplainable, even today.

As we toiled on our fort, probably the fifth one we had built in these woods, one of my friends suddenly yelled out, terrified.

“Look!”

We turned to see what he was pointing at only to look upon a man standing about thirty or forty feet away at the top of the nearby hill. We all fell silent as we were nervous that this might in fact be his land we were rapidly developing. His face was obscured and slightly silhouetted by the setting sun at his back. He looked as if he were seven feet tall. The strangest part about him, however, was what looked like a parrot standing on his shoulder like he was a pirate. I could hardly comprehend what I was looking at. He stood there as stoic as a Greek column.

The forest fell silent for what seemed like forever until finally one of us, I forget who, said to the man on the hill, “Hello?”

He said nothing, and then walked away over the crest of the hill.

We looked at each other and postulated who, or what, this man was. We decided to go after him and find out. Less than a minute after he had walked off, we charged up the hill yelling into the empty woods. We spread out and took every path we knew of, which was every path that was carved into those woods. We searched and searched and searched, to no avail. We hollered and yelled but could not find the man. He had literally disappeared.

Later that day a large lighting storm arose and raged all night long. The next day we tromped through the woods and down the rock wall road only to find that our fort by the hill had been hewn by a lighting bolt. The large branch that had supported the structure was sliced at the trunk of the tree. The fort was left abandoned.

The conclusion we were all left with was that this “man” was in fact, a spirit from another realm.

Tremendously Exaggerated:

We used chainsaws to cut the surrounding trees, shaping logs to reinforce our tree fort. The fort was positioned at the end of a rock wall about 1000 feet into the woods behind our homes. My friends and I had built the wall stone by stone over the course of a few summers. Now it was the road that led us to our largest tree fort yet. A monster fort that encompassed the entire tree and rose three stories into the canopy.

The fort had three parts; one on the ground with logs propped up against one of the tree’s large branches that jutted out towards a hill, and the other on the same large branch. The lower part of the fort was shaped like an isosceles triangle or wedge and was a foot thick. The fort had pulleys and cranes that allowed us to lift the heavier logs. Our task today was to reinforce the lower part by adding logs and then covering the surface with tar and pitch, making the fort entirely water-tight. After that we had planned to work on the upper decks which would be our living quarters and a small kitchen. Our plans were halted, however, by a series of strange events that have haunted each of us to this day.

As we toiled on our fort, probably the fifth one we had built in these woods, one of my friends suddenly yelled out, terrified.

“Look!”

We turned to see what he was pointing at only to look upon a ghastly visage of a man standing about thirty or forty feet away at the top of the nearby hill. We all fell silent as we contemplated what he might do to us. His face was obscured and slightly silhouetted by the setting sun at his back. He was over seven feet tall. The strangest part about him, however, was an eagle that stood perched on his shoulder. I could hardly comprehend what I was looking at. He stood there as stoic as a Greek column.

The forest fell silent for what seemed like forever until finally one of us, I forget who, said to the man on the hill, “Hello?”

He said nothing, and then walked away over the crest of the hill.

We looked at each other and knew that this was no ordinary man. Suddenly filled with courage, we decided to go after him. We then charged up the hill yelling into the empty woods. We spread out and took every path we knew of, which was every path that was carved into those woods. We searched and searched and searched, to no avail. We hollered and yelled but could not find the ghost. He had returned from whatever realm he had originated.

Suddenly, a large lighting storm arose, tearing through forest with a vengeance. We retreated to the safety of our wooden echelon only to see our fortress being hewn by a lighting bolt. The large branch that had supported the structure was sliced at the trunk of the tree and fell. The fort was abandoned.

We never returned to that place, haunted forever by the terrifying spirit that destroyed the strongest fort we had ever constructed.