The brothers, Pico and Galoro, came to play on the windmill everyday.  It was their fortress.  Their hideaway in which they escaped the world; on which they ruled over the world; inside which they stored and decoded their secret observations of the world.

Others had no idea.  If they did, the brothers would not be allowed on the windmill and the loose section of fence surrounding the old mining grounds would be fixed and then where would the boys go?

They kept the secret very well.

The only ones who knew were in the pit.  And no one ever believed them.

That day was windy.

The breeze helped the brothers ignore the occasional moaning coming from the pit.  It sounded more like the windmill creaking against the wind.  The spinning propeller overhead hid the bellows from the depths.

Pico was younger.  He was scared of the pit for the longest time.  Now he only occasionally looked down there—when Galoro was looking the other way—and felt sorry for the people.  He didn’t know how Galoro felt, but he didn’t know how to imagine his brother not caring at all.

Whenever Galoro hocked a loogie over the edge and cheered when he hit someone protruding from the wall, Pico knew his brother would repent for it later by tossing about in his sleep.  Pico could ignore his brother nearly kicking him out of their bed because he knew it was Galoro wrestling with God.

God worked in dreams.

Pico dreamed of people climbing out of pits.  Big pits.  Shallow pits.  Six foot deep pits.  One million, two hundred and twenty seven thousand, nine hundred sixty one foot deep pits.  They reached the surface and collapsed.  They dangled an arm over the edge.  Pico feared for a moment that they would fall back in.  Then they rolled the other direction, laughed, and kissed the sun-stained earth.

Galoro dreamed of swimming mighty rivers that had carried others to their death, or climbing dangerous peaks none had scaled before, and girls…the kind he only talked to in dreams.

Pico always struggled up the old rope they used to climb the last part of the windmill.  It was painfully course in his hands.  Mostly, though, he was terrified at how it looked barely able to hold itself together.  They had found it in one of the abandoned tool sheds.  It was the only thing left beside moldy boxes.  And seeing as they were the only ones around to know that, Galoro claimed it as theirs by law.

By time Pico reached the top and collapsed as far from the edge as he could, Galoro was already casually spitting into the pit.  The wind caused Galoro’s loogies to miss.  He cursed then stood tall.  He put his toes right on the edge of the windmill and shouted against the wind.

“Stop!” Pico said.  He sat up, unwittingly pressing his back hard against the windmill base.

“You’ve seen me do this a hundred times…you still think I’m going to fall off?”  Galoro lifted one foot and teetered on the other, faking his loss of balance.

“No,” said Pico, hiding his primary concern from his brother.  “It’s just that…do you think they mind?”

“Them…down there?”  Galoro put his foot down, hung his face over the edge with his hands on his knees, and salivated another grenade.  “I don’t know what they think.  Who cares?  They’re there…and we’re here…oooh, just missed.”

“Ya, but they don’t get to feel the breeze,” observed Pico, pretending the thought had only slightly bothered him maybe this once, or twice.

Galoro snapped a glance at his brother.  Pico thought he might yell at him.  But, instead, the older boy’s face relaxed.

“You think about them way too much, brother.  You’re almost going to forget that you’re you and not them.”

Pico jumped to his feet.  He spit words in rapid fire at his brother.

“I know who I am.  I know who you are, and who they are…I just…don’t do it, Galoro, okay?”

Galoro turned the taunt on Pico.  “You are becoming one of them…”

“NO I’M NOT,” Pico shouted his defense.  The younger boy may not have wanted to taunt the humans in the pit, but he knew better than to be called one.

“Oh, yes you are.”

“STOP!”

“When did you climb out of the pit, Pico?  Which one’s your daddy down there?”

“AHHH!” Pico bellowed against the wind.  He rushed at Galoro, who jumped out of the way.  Both boys had forgotten where they were in that instance.  Pico couldn’t even try to stop himself.  Over the edge he went before Galoro could think of grabbing him.

Down.

Far down.

The first thing Pico noticed was the lack of wind against his skin.

Then—the darkness.  He closed his eyes as it swallowed him alive.

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