In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ode to a Playground.”

A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.

When i was a child there used to be this big hill next to this old, crumbling church. It was about 2 minutes from out house and my sister and I would go and ride our bikes there (me with stabilisers and a barbie strapped in the doll seat, my sister on her purple mountain bike) under the watchful eyes of our parents.

But then that hill was gone. I don’t remember it happening but that flattened it and built houses on it. In truth, that hill probably wasn’t anywhere near as big as I remember it being. But I’ll never know for sure.

The church is still there and I like to go there (or I did when I was still at home and not uni) and listen to the world that was hidden by the thin line of trees.

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