Shorn
Legacy Name: Shorn

Every Monday through Friday at 3:15, if you wait by the side of the road where Maple Street meets Old County Road 14, you will see a little girl hop off a faded yellow school bus, pigtails flapping in the breeze, and go running down the dusty lane towards the ramshackle house that sits at the end of Maple Street.

Behind the two-story home sits a large barn, painted long ago a vibrant red that has been sun-washed to a bleached brick color. The inhabitants of this particular barn pay very little attention to the girl as she runs past them. They know she is not there to see them.

In the last stall on the left, a bright pink nose pokes itself through the slates of the gate, sniffing the breeze. Perhaps he smells pencil shavings and chalkboard dust, or maybe it's chocolate chip cookies and sweet homemade lemonade. Whatever the smell may be precisely, he knows it well, and the nose begins to quiver excitedly as the girl races towards him.

The girl unlatches the gate with practiced fingers, pushes the large door open and practically throws herself inside the pen. The handsome sheep makes no move to bolt from the inclosure, he turns towards the girl and begins to lick her face. She has a musical giggle, one that even the other barnyard animals seem to quiet and listen to.

The little girl enjoys the sheep's rasping kisses for a few minutes, and then begins the daily ritual of brushing the sheep's luxiourious coat. It is immediately obvious that is grooming is a favorite pasttime of the little girls, and the sheep's too. He stands perfectly still while she runs first her fingers, and then a fine toothed-comb through all of the fluffy white fur that covers the sheep from head to tail. Upon inspection of the rest of the animals living in the faded-brick barn, it is immediately obvious that this little sheep is the most well cared for animal there.

The little girl's father finds her laying in the hay, whispering stories to the little sheep. "It's time for dinner" he tells her. She takes one last look at her four-legged friend and kisses his nose before reluctantly leaving the sanctuary of the pen. Her father just shakes his head at the sight a small smile wrinkling his features, obviously not understanding his daughter's connection to the little animal.

As fall fades from orange to brown to white, the little girl continues her trek from the dusty bus stop the barn without fail. The only deviation from her routine is a quick trip into the house for a cup for warm cider or cocoa from her mother before she spends her afternoon in the barn. The girl's parents worry that their daughter's only friend seems to be a small sheep, but they say nothing to girl, knowing that this will fade when she grows up.

One particularly cold afternoon, the girl jumps off of the bus, and rocks to a stop. She looks down the lane towards the house, not paying particular attention to the two rusted trucks that sit in her previously vacant driveway. Instead she is confused by the sound. It is not something she's heard before, a loud snick-snick-snick sound, followed by a prolonged buzzing, that sets the girl off on a run towards her home. As she gets closer to the barn, the sound amplifies. She comes to a halt several feet in front of the barn, confused by what she is seeing.

While the girl has realized that fall is surely followed by winter, she's not a stupid girl by any means, she does not understand the white that is swirling around her feet, coming from the barn. It is too early for snow yet, she knows, and yet it seems to be floating all around her. And when it snows, there is no loud sounds that accompany it. Her father's voice snaps her out of her confused reverie, and she takes a few tentative steps towards the sound.

Inside the house, the girls mother sets about making dinner. They will be joined by the four men with the vans parked in front of the house, and after the work they've put in this afternoon, she knows they will be famished. She spares only a single thought for how her daughter will react to these men and the situation, but her thoughts collect themselves quickly to focus on the roast she is making for the men. Half-way through the dicing of the vegetables her stream-lined thoughts are interrupted by the a blood-curdling scream. She knows the sound well, though she's never actually heard it before. Without a single thought of her roast or the vegetables, the girl's mother drops her knife and runs out of the kitchen to the barn

The girl wakes in a jolt, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She blinks a few times to clear the fuzzies that seem to be swimming in her vision. It takes her a few moments to get her bearings before she realizes that it's dark outside now, and both her mother and her father are sitting on the foot of her bed. The girl does not understand why her parents are there, only that whatever the reason, it cannot be good. She does not remember why she is laying in bed, only that her head hurts something awful. All she can remember is jumping off the school bus, and swirling white.

The girls father tries to explain to the girl what happened, how every sheep farmer in the world is doing what he does, that it never hurts the sheep, though they sometimes cry something awful, and that her special friend is quite alright. The girl refuses to believe her father, insisting that she will not listen to him until she see's for herself that her best friend is still alive. Her father, perhaps sensing that it would be futile to argue with this inconsolable little girl, lifts her gently from her bed and carries her downstairs, through the back door, and to the barn.

Inside the last pen on the left, no nose pokes out sniffing the air, even though the entire barnyard full of animals trumpets the arrival of the little girl and her father. At the sight of the empty gate, hot tears leak out of the little girls eyes, but she says nothing. Her father sets her down on a bale of hay and opens the gate.

For several minutes nothing happens, and the little girl begins to cry in earnest. The father, now more than a little ashamed, trudges into the dark pen and emerges a few minutes later, after much scuffling and a few muttered oaths, with a tiny pink bundle wrapped in his arms.

The wiggling sheep manages to kick himself free from the girl's father, and for a moment appears as if he's about to bolt from the barn. The sight of the pink-skinned, shorn sheep sets the girls tears streaming faster down her rosy cheeks. She falls to her knees in front of her friend and cries, holding out her arms to his shivering frame. He reluctantly steps into her waiting grasp and places a few tentative licks to her face.

After much begging and cajoling, the little girl convinces her father to let the little naked sheep sleep with the little girl in her bedroom. She piles up her favorite blankets in a heap by her bed and places the tiny animal in the middle. After her parents turn out the lights the little girl reaches down to pat the sheep's prickly head, whispering promises to him in the night.

The very next day the little girl puts her plans into motion. She starts by talking to her mother about her plan, who smiles with fondness down at her daughter, but does not laugh. She agree's to drive the little girl downtown just as soon as the little girl finishes her chores. After she has dried the dishes, fed the chickens, and taken out the trash, the little girl and her mother set off for downtown. There they make two stops, the first to the library, where the girl checks out three different books, and the second at the crafts shop, where the mother and daughter pick up a grocery sack full of different items.

It takes the girl a little over two weeks to finish her first sweater.The first week she spends pouring over the three knitting books from the libarary. In it she finds patterns and stitches and things she never knew she could make. The second week she spends knitting. Any second of free time finds the girl, tongue grasped firmly between her teeth, click-click-clicking away with her needles. On the bus to school, at recess, during study-hour, on the bus home, even when she walks from the bus to the barn, the little girl knits and knits and knits. The finished product, she thinks, is surely the most wonderful sweater ever made in the history of the world. It is a lumpy, awkward affair, with sleeves of different lengths, 5 different kinds of stitches, two neck holes, and a strange assortment of colors. She is so very proud of her accomplishment that her parents dare not laugh, not even when she emerges from the barn triumphantly holding a very embarrassed looking sheep in a too large sweater. They save their giggles for after the girl is asleep that night, and their silent laughter shakes their bed-frame

Haunted

Integrity