Full dark,no stars by Stephen King

was old and cranky, no longer gave much milk, and wed all but given up trying to get what little she had; as soon as you sat down on the stool, shed try to kick you. We should have converted her into comestibles a year before, but I balked at the cost of having Harlan Cotterie butcher her, and I was no good at slaughtering much beyond hogs a self-assessment with which you, Reader, must now surely agree.
    And shed be tough, Arlette (who had shown a sneaking affection for Elphis, perhaps because she was never the one to milk her) said. Better leave well enough alone. But now we had a use for Elphis-in the well, as it so happened-and her death might serve an end far more useful than a few stringy cuts of meat.
    Two days after Lesters visit, my son and I put a nose-halter on her and led her around the side of the barn. Halfway to the well, Henry stopped. His eyes shone with dismay. Poppa! I smell her!
    Go into the house then, and get some cotton balls for your nose. Theyre on her dresser.
    Although his head was lowered, I saw the sidelong glance he shot me as he went. This is all your fault, that look said. All your fault because you couldnt let go.
    Yet I had no doubt that he would help me do the work that lay ahead. Whatever he now thought of me, there was a girl in the picture as well, and he didnt want her to know what he had done. I had forced him to it, but she would never understand that.
    We led Elphis to the well-cap, where she quite reasonably balked. We went around to the far side, holding the halter-strings like ribbons in a Maypole dance, and hauled her out onto the rotted wood by main force. The cap cracked beneath her weight bowed down but held. The old cow stood on it, head lowered, looking as stupid and as stubborn as ever, showing the greenish-yellow rudiments of her teeth.
    What now? Henry asked.
    I started to say I didnt know, and that was when the well-cap broke in two with a loud and brittle snap. We held onto the halter-strings, although I thought for a moment I was going to be dragged into that damned well with two dislocated arms. Then the nose-rig ripped free and flew back up. It was split down both the sides. Below, Elphis began to low in agony and drum her hoofs against the wells rock sides.
    Poppa! Henry screamed. His hands were fists against his mouth, the knuckles digging into his upper lip. Make her stop!
    Elphis uttered a long, echoing groan. Her hoofs continued to beat against the stone.
    I took Henrys arm and hauled him, stumbling, back to the house. I pushed him down on Arlettes mail-order sofa and ordered him to stay there until I came back to get him. And remember, this is almost over.
    Itll never be over, he said, and turned facedown on the sofa. He put his hands over his ears, even though Elphis couldnt be heard from in here. Except Henry still was hearing her, and so was I.
    I got my varmint gun from the high shelf in the pantry. It was only a.22, but it would do the job. And if Harlan heard shots rolling across the acres between his place and mine? That would fit our story, too. If Henry could keep his wits long enough to tell it, that was.
    Here is something I learned in 1922: there are always worse things waiting. You think you have seen the most terrible thing, the one that coalesces all your nightmares into a freakish horror that actually exists, and the only consolation is that there can be nothing worse. Even if there is, your mind will snap at the sight of it, and you will know no more. But there is worse, your mind does not snap, and somehow you carry on. You might understand that all the joy has gone out of the world for you, that what you did has put all you hoped to gain out of your reach, you might wish you were the one who was dead-but you go on. You realize that you are in a hell of your own making, but you go on nevertheless. Because there is nothing else to do.
    Elphis had landed on top of my wifes body, but Arlettes grinning face was still perfectly visible, still tilted