First, a quick note. I would like to thank one of my best friends (whose name shall not be mentioned) for telling me this story from when he was little(er) and visiting Ireland. Thanks for letting me use it. *G* Growing Up A Superhero (13) The wind raced by, playing tag with itself as it looped and twisted above the ground. It raced past a tree, whipping the leaves into a frenzy before hurrying on to trample through the long grass, sending tiny flowers and bits of pollen soaring. But the game was not over, and the wind continued, flying faster and higher and farther. Up and around and over, swirling along a wooden fence at the top of a hill, racing up to a red headed boy and plucking at his shirt, fluffing through his hair, running around his small, lithe body and racing on. The boy ran fingers through his flame colored hair, settling it into a semblance of order. Green eyes looked over the green hills, searching for something in the distance. There--he saw it. His seven year old mouth opened in a wide grin, though one front tooth was missing. He shoved hard on the wood he perched on, landing on his feet and running down the hill before he had even recovered his balance. The wind that had tried to race about him a moment ago parted before his bulleting body, then continued on its way. He ran up another hill, his lungs stretching with the effort of collecting all the oxygen his pounding muscles needed. At the top of the hill he didn't bother to pause, only continued across it and then down the other side. Below was his treasure, his prize for running all this way. It was an unprotected flock of sheep. The boy screamed, whirling his arms about as he ran toward the fluffy white creatures, not yet shorn for the summer. Soon the boy was in their midst, screaming and shouting and flinging his arms about. The sheep lost no time in turning and running from this most fearsome predator, and, yelling happily, the boy ran up the next hill after them. Fearful baa's could be heard as they topped the rise and continued down the next, and the boy, laughing delightedly, started to fall behind. A stitch was in his side, and was starting to make itself painfully known, but the boy didn't mind a bit. Holding his side, hobbling along while trying to laugh and catch his breath at the same time, he followed the scared sheep down the other side of the hill--and stopped. The sheep were no longer running fearfully from him. He hesitated, looking over the flock and seeing the stone wall that kept them in. He considered letting them go, then flung his arms up in the air and ran at them one last time. The sheep scattered, then one of them stepped forward. He eyed the sheep warily. Without warning the sheep came back together in their flock and, unable to run away, charged the redhead. The boy's eyes widened as the entire flock of sheep came running toward him. He screamed and turned, racing back up over the hill, the stitch in his side forgotten for the moment. He bolted up the side of the hill, and then turned sharply. Seconds later the sheep were there, chasing him down. He looked back once and saw the entire flock following him. Screaming, the boy ran as fast as he could, though the stitch in his side was coming back with a vengeance. The nearest house was still half a mile away, and he knew that, but the boy kept up the false hope that he just might make it before the sheep caught up to him. They would have caught him, if Roger hadn't come running out. The boy had never been so glad to see the collie as he was then. Roger ran over the hill, coming up barking and snapping at the sheep that chased his young friend. Roger didn't know why they were doing this, or what had happened, he only knew that this particular human fed him pieces of bread and honey, and patted his ears just where he liked. The boy didn't waste this chance; he ran as fast as his side would allow until he came to Roger's doghouse. Without pause he leapt in, ignoring the fleas that were no doubt inside. It seemed like a long time before Roger came back, pushing his head into the doghouse and looking at the boy. He snuffed, then went trotting off. A moment later there could be seen both Roger and a pair of legs. The legs bent until a chest could be seen, and that bent until a head peered in. "Hello, Sean," Kevin said to the boy. "'Lo," Sean returned. "Sean, why're ye in m' doghouse?" Kevin asked, rubbing Roger's neck absently. "Th' sheep. They attacked me, Kev." Kevin nodded with more wisdom than his fourteen years allowed. "Oh. Were ye chasin' 'em again, Sean?" "Not exactly, Kevin," Sean lied. "Oh. They just turned and started chasin' ye, then?" Sean nodded vehemently. "Aye. That 'twas it." Kevin scratched the back of his neck, looking up at the setting sun. "My ma says ye should come in an' spend th' night. 'Tis too late to go home." "Oh. All right then." Sean crawled out of the doghouse, almost getting knocked over by Roger, who was happy to get back in. He straightened up and brushed the hair off his short pants as best he could, then followed Kevin into his small house. "Hello, Mrs. O'Connell," Sean said as he walked into the house. She barely turned from where she was at the stove. "Been chasin' the sheep again, 'ave ye Sean?" Sean blushed. "Aye, ma'am." He sighed and hung his head. Mrs. O'Connell nodded. "'Tis as A thought. 'Ave supper, an' tomorrow ye may help Mr. O'Connell shorn the sheep." Sean started to object, but was interrupted by Mrs. O'Connell. "An' tonight ye may 'ave a bath. Ye smell like Roger." Sean sighed heavily and eyed his toes. "An' after ye help Mr. O'Connell shorn the sheep, A 'ave some weeds that need t' be pulled from my garden." Sean sighed and sat heavily in the wooden chair. It was going to be a long day. Outside, the wind whistled around the house before zipping away to find someplace new to play.
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Oh Bleep, Here Come The Sheep 1/1
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