More story

Sorry for the delay. Life does get in the way. On with the tale. I’m mulling over filling in background story on the characters as well. I’ve been reading what I already have, and it kept me interested, so I guess it’s not too bad after all. I just need to figure out where it’s going. Of course, the best way to do that is to write and see where I end up. Onward.

***

When he reached the ewe, his stomach churned. It wasn’t that she was dead; hadn’t he had his share of slaughtering his own animals for meat? It was the illusion of wholeness. The sheep seemed to have been torn into pieces and the pieces left in approximation of their proper places. It made the animal look horribly unnatural with her head facing the wrong way and her limbs twisted from their rightful places. It was a nasty piece of work, and James couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing. He glanced around. Perhaps the silence of bird and other animals indicated the presence of the intruder. Probably some of those damn teenagers with nothing better to do than to vandalize a hard-working man’s stock. Better go check the shed and see if the rest of the flock had been hurt.

He set his back to the maimed ewe and headed for the shelter. The rear wall faced him and he had to go around one end before he could look inside. The horror stopped him in his tracks. Here, there was nothing immediately recognizable as either ewe or lamb. There were shreds of flesh, scraps of wool, and blood soaked into the ground. He stared openmouthed, then fumbled for his cell phone.

"Marie? Call the cops and get them out to the sheep field. Somebody’s slaughtered the whold damn flock. Yes! All of them. There’s not enough left to knit a sock. No! Don’t you come out here. I don’t want you seeing this–it’ll give you nightmares. Hang on–I hear something. Wait a minute…"

He turned away from the butchery toward the sound. "Who’s there? The cops are going to be here soon and you’ll have your fill of trouble then, I’m warning you." There was no reply but the odd rustling of something moving in the grass. He stepped toward it. Rapid movement drew his attention and he spun to the left. Teeth and claws dug into his leg as something small and dark launched itself out of the grass. Then another. And another.

He screamed and tried to fend them off, dropping the phone as he did so. He heard Marie’s voice: "Jim? Jim! What’s happening? Jim?!" Sharp teeth took the fingers from one hand, stripped the flesh from his arm. James Enfield fell to his knees, knowing he couldn’t win this battle, but fighting anyway until he toppled over, drained and tattered.

***

There we go. Today’s installment. I’ll try to get more transcribed and saved for release.