hills

While driving by hills, golden hills, I'd look up at them from the passenger seat. Drying grasses everywhere, perhaps a sturdy tree for the landscape, and the clear blue sky spilling out everywhere beyond the hilltops. Then I'd think, it's like the edge of the earth, if gravity were to adopt a different vector, and loose things were to tumble toward these hills and off into the sky blue nothingness, and the trees were the last things to hold onto, themselves growing out of the earth-edge sideways into the new pulling force.

Then the afterlife mythologies and stories will change, perhaps deifying these trees as the last bastions before clear blue oblivion. And populations would evolve around these trees, if they manage to grow more in a clump. It would be a teetering society, for once false move can send you over!