I stand in the empty room.
The blue walls replaced with somewhat detailed wood, and green curtains, and clothes claiming the floor.
No sheep came by today.
No problems seemed to arise. No emotions went out of hand.
I got bullied, yes, today. I got a friend upset, of course, today.
But no memories.
No white turning into a black cloud of negative came by to trigger the memories.
I was... at peace... I guess...
I didn't know what to feel. I felt like I was just there.
Being nothing. Doing nothing.
No laughing, no sheep racing or prancing.
Is this the feeling of being dead? Or is this a dream?
I had to move from my bed to sit up and look out the window.
Because of having no sheep tonight, I have to make up my own.
New black sheep arose, sheep that weren't a sheep and yet were a sheep. The "what if" of the situation. The "however" or the "and, if, and but" of a conversation.
Fake black sheep started to fill my mind.
I wonder how these sheep left me so quickly that night.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Sheep
Teen FictionOne sheep, two sheep, This is not helping at all. Three sheep, four- Someone kill me, I must snoop this low. Five sheep, six sheep, I feel tired, but the waters still flow. Seven sheep, eight she- It looks like the sheep hit a wall. I guess eight sh...
