A campfire burns in a cave. The cave that houses the campfire, along with the mischievous sparks that dance off the flame, is on an island surrounded by the adventurous sea.
The island was small and remote—there hadn't been a foreign visitor for over 20 years. However, it was a happy island; happy and lively.
Every evening, just as the sun began its venture back to the horizon for slumber, a tall, brawny shepherd, who lived in the campfire cave, would reach for his banjo beside his bed, which was constructed of sturdy stone for the frame and soft moss for the sheets and blankets. The man would strum his banjo for his sheep, for he loved his sheep. He loved his sheep more than the soft moss he'd lay his back on, more than the campfire that provided him warmth, and more than the banjo his mother gifted him before she passed.
After a while of playing the banjo, the man rested the instrument against his stone bedframe and began to dance by the campfire. The man had special shoes he used to dance with—ones with metal on the heels. The man loved the harmonious tapping sound the shoes filled the room with. The man loved his shoes.
His father had always told him, "If a man can't dance, what can he do? Why shouldn't a man dance? It's one of life's greatest gifts—a couple miles away from love." The boy's father made it very clear that he, along with his fellow one-eyed brothers and sisters, must know of love. "It doesn't have to be romantic, or even sexual," his father would start, looking at the boy in his curious eye. "Some of the greatest love ever known was platonic. And if that's the only love you'll ever know, Poly, then that's still just as remarkable." The boy had tried loving others with a romantic passion, but found that it wasn't right for him. However, the boy loved his father. He loved his father as much as he loved the sea, for they were practically one of the same.
After the boy, whom everyone on the island called Poly, was finished dancing with his special shoes and done playing his banjo, he'd put all of his sheep to bed. Once they were all resting, he'd put out the campfire, lay in his mossy bed, and close his eye as he ventured off to slumber, just as the sun did.
Those were the Happiest Days.
YOU ARE READING
The Softest Sheep
RomanceWhat happens when a story is told all wrong? What happens when it's too late to change? What happens when banjo-playing and dap dancing gets replaced by sorrow and pain? What happens when a cyclops goes blind?
