Looking for the Lost
Mar 28, 2010 23:50:15 GMT -5
Post by -xXInverted FlyingJennyXx- on Mar 28, 2010 23:50:15 GMT -5
Charity
Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, and can't tell where to find them; leave them alone, and they'll come home, wagging their tails behind them. Everyone should know that is so not true. A sheep must be found, looked for day and night, until one finds the poor thing. Otherwise, it'll just stay huddled wherever it is and may starve to death.
I whistle as I cross the District Square, leading Verne, my very own cow, the only one Susan said she won't let anyone take up for slaughter. I helped birth Verne when I was eight. Ahead of me, my little pup skips ahead. I haven't thought of a name for him yet, but Will said he'd help me this afternoon. If I even can make it to our secret meeting place this afternoon. Which depends on whether or not I find this sheep.
I hold up my whistle, which dangles on the silver chain Myrrh found for me, and blow the sheep call as loudly as I can. There are others out here on the Square, heading out to the fields with their own animals, and none of them look my way. I'm just the little quiet girl blowing her whistle, like always, to speak.
Among the people crossing the Square, I find a familiar face. It's Chris--but he's going to the teacher's house again.
Hey Chris--have you seen my sheep? I sign to him. He's very educated, but he still can't understand my signing as quickly as Will.
"Cherry, do it again, please. Slower this time," he says patiently, but I can see that he's in a hurry (like always), so I shake my head and wave for him to keep going with a smile.
Now I sit on a bench, letting Verne, who's been out searching with me since dawn, have a break. I pat Verne's side as he sits and laps at his water calmly. Verne, by my definition, is a beautiful cow. Sure, there's that little notch on his ear where Will accidentally closed the door, and his right side is slightly rougher because he tends to lean to the right when he sleeps; but to me, Verne is beautiful. He understands me without my having to wave my arms wildly about or write things down.
And so we sit, taking a break.
OCC: You may jump in here however you'd like.
Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, and can't tell where to find them; leave them alone, and they'll come home, wagging their tails behind them. Everyone should know that is so not true. A sheep must be found, looked for day and night, until one finds the poor thing. Otherwise, it'll just stay huddled wherever it is and may starve to death.
I whistle as I cross the District Square, leading Verne, my very own cow, the only one Susan said she won't let anyone take up for slaughter. I helped birth Verne when I was eight. Ahead of me, my little pup skips ahead. I haven't thought of a name for him yet, but Will said he'd help me this afternoon. If I even can make it to our secret meeting place this afternoon. Which depends on whether or not I find this sheep.
I hold up my whistle, which dangles on the silver chain Myrrh found for me, and blow the sheep call as loudly as I can. There are others out here on the Square, heading out to the fields with their own animals, and none of them look my way. I'm just the little quiet girl blowing her whistle, like always, to speak.
Among the people crossing the Square, I find a familiar face. It's Chris--but he's going to the teacher's house again.
Hey Chris--have you seen my sheep? I sign to him. He's very educated, but he still can't understand my signing as quickly as Will.
"Cherry, do it again, please. Slower this time," he says patiently, but I can see that he's in a hurry (like always), so I shake my head and wave for him to keep going with a smile.
Now I sit on a bench, letting Verne, who's been out searching with me since dawn, have a break. I pat Verne's side as he sits and laps at his water calmly. Verne, by my definition, is a beautiful cow. Sure, there's that little notch on his ear where Will accidentally closed the door, and his right side is slightly rougher because he tends to lean to the right when he sleeps; but to me, Verne is beautiful. He understands me without my having to wave my arms wildly about or write things down.
And so we sit, taking a break.
OCC: You may jump in here however you'd like.
