Sheep Riot
That morning we woke up and immediately felt danger in the air. Not the strong and bitter danger of death - to that one we were pretty used in the past. That smell we inherited from our mothers with their blood, but then He came, and we gave everything to him - with all its burden and sweetness, grief and hope. We gave everything that we had learned, all our smells and feelings when the trees and the sky were preparing for the rain, when the grass and the river were carrying enemy. We anyway did not know what to do with them, so we hided or ran.

No, that danger had another nature, or, to say so, it went against nature: almost invisible, it was hidden for a long time, long enough to merge with my sisters: with their big round eyes, with curly warm fleece, with pinkish ears that are now wary. It was inside us, waiting.

That morning He took a walk in the forest. He came back. They had already come for him.
My sisters, caught in the smell of danger, gave everything to that feeling. We always give everything, but we never take decisions. We are waiting.


Soon will be the end, then the start, and then everything will be calm again.

Made on
Tilda