Jack, Jill and the well on the hill

(Originally 28th October 2006, 6:28 pm)

It was a really sleepy town. Nothing much really happened in this town; everyone just took their own sweet time to do everything, nobody really bothers with anything, and everyone really don't think much of anything.

In fact, the lackadaisical town didn't even so much bat an eyelid when the town council built a well at the top of the hill. They presumed that it had water somewhere in the higher regions of the hill, such that the effort was worth building a well there. Now, that was a really huge presumption for this hill wasn't some little mound barely potruding higher than a molehill. This hill was rather high, high enough to overlook the entire town in its lazy grandeur. It was high enough to see tiny smoke columns rising from the next town. It was high enough to start feeling altophobia.

It was high enough to look dangerous. Still a well was built there.

Now, this town, being so slow and laid back, isn't fully built up. Not everyone had electricity and not everyone had water. The really unfortunate ones had none. Then again, no one really cared.

Here is where we look at this household near the outskirts of the town, who were one of those unfortunate few who didn't have any public utilities, who also didn't really care when or whether they had it or not. But obviously they still needed water to cook, drink, shower and flush disturbingly smelly defacation from their makeshift toilet. This house was occupied by a couple, named Jack and Jill Stoolpitmeister. The only reason why they were named Jack and Jill were because their parents couldn't really be bothered about names, and picked the first name they could think of. It's also the reason why there was a need for everyone to know everyone else's last name; almost everyone else in the town probably have the same first name as you.

Now, Jack and Jill would fetch water daily, together, hand in hand. If you thought love didn't exist, they would be the perfect epitome of love. The treacherous path up the hill was braved by the lovebirds through all kinds of weather. Despite the frequent snakes and wildcats, they would go through the ritual of fetching water with blatant fearlessness.

Years passed and they got older. Unfortunately for them, they still haven't got their running water. The town council was building it an inch a year, or something to that rate as town records show. No one really bothered, and neither did Jack and Jill. They went on doing their daily chore of fetching the water from the hill. It's really beginning to be a chore now; Jill has been showing signs of osteopeorosis; Jack didn't really feel like he could lift the pail full of water, and they had been drawing slightly, ever so slightly lesser through the years.

One fine morning, as the struggled out of bed for the daily work, it was plain to any other, that none of them really wanted to do it anymore. They don't really hold their hands to go up the hill anymore, they would just had more trouble doing so. No one could really support on the other, and each of them would have their own walking stick to struggle along. And as they trudged up the hill, Jack stumbled, rather badly. Apparently some loose rock tripped him.

"Old man, get up, we ain't restin yet."

Jill was already having a tough time on her own, Jack forgave her for not helping. Still that was a nasty little thing to say.

They trudged a little more, and Jack's sore ankle wasn't really helping much. In fact, it gave way and he fell flat on his back.

"Old man! Thinking of sleeping now?!"

Ouch

That was a single ouch in his head for both pains he felt. Jack slowly crawled up and literally dragged himself forward. A twice busted ankle and a slightly twisted back, Jack really should have been a medical miracle for someone his age.

But we all know, miracles are fleeting moments of wonder, and so was Jack's miracle. The minute he got up, he crumpled over and fell. And as luck would have had it, he fell towards the most treacherous side of the slope. The steepest and rockiest. He flailed in a desperate effort to grab at something... and caught his hands in Jill's blouse.

Jill, at this point in time was actually rather comfortably lodged in the next foot up, and when she felt a sharp jerk on her blouse, she was actually more annoyed then surprised. That is, until she heard a loud rip and the blouse came off. She turned in time to see Jack fall and roll down the hill, and lost her footing, teetering over the edge of no return herself.

Jack just tumbled, very much like the clothes in your washing machine. Very much like a ball rolling down the hill. Very much like a ragged doll being shredded apart by fighting wolves. Very much like a multitude of mine explosions leaving strewn body parts everywhere. In fact, the blood red trail of Jack's descent glistened in the sun, which set Jill in fear and broke her teetering. So she came tumbling after.

The police came 2 days later. In fact no one knew they were gone, but fortunately, the town council had come knocking on their door to install the utilities. When no one answered, and upon bashing in to an empty house, a search was ordered. They found Jack, all cut up and shredded. He was missing his left arm; his right elbow hung by a thin strip of flesh; half his intestine was spilling out; his legs though intact, had a overly swollen right ankle. He wasn't at the bottom of the hill though, they found him slightly higher, apparently stopped by smashing his head into a huge boulder, leaving a third of this skull collapsed, and his face quite unrecognizable.

They found Jill nearby, with only a bra for her top. Somehow she had it better, probably deflected by a boulder higher up to a less treacherous path downhill, which explains the smashed in left shoulder. She had cluthched her walking stick tightly, and that helped slow her descent. But she didn't escape certain death in the end; her stick had splintered in half and had stabbed her right through the lungs.

And that was the most shocking thing the town had for the years to come. It was a huge awakening to the sleepy town, and the town council could not help but feel some amount of regret in being slow in supplying water to them. The rude news made people decide to pick up on the way things were going around this town. And in rememberance of these two dear old couple, everyone contributed to the building of a beautiful grave for these two lovebirds, right in the middle of the town square, serving a reminder to everyone that no one should take anything without a care, and to mark the end to the lackadaisical attitude of the town. On the glorious bronze tombstone was engraved their faces, their names and a gentle story of their death:

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.