headlights.
They'd come off the hills a while back, and the sun was setting behind them. “Where are we?”
“Dunno.”
“Slow down you fool,” she ordered. “You're going almost eighty on a dirt road. What if we come up on an animal?”
Mark took two breaths and then slowly sat back in the seat. His white hands loosened their grip and pulled back from the wheel.
As if on cue, several cows loped across the dirt road ahead, and Mark pulled to a stop.
“Any of them look familiar?” asked Donna as the mass of brown bodies walked in front of them.
“You're joking, right?”
“I thought you knew everyone in town.”
“They don't bring their cows in for haircuts.”
They sat in silence, each looking out the window at the darkening horizon and meandering cows. Finally, Mark grunted and put the truck in gear. He began to move forward slowly as the bovine bodies moved away.
“Maybe we should go back,” suggested Donna.
“And do what, exactly? Join in the fun? It's all about 'sheep love,' remember?” He took his hands off the wheel long enough to make quotes in the air.
“Don't be sick.”
Mark squinted at the dark horizon and nodded at a clump of trees.
“I figured out where we are, and I know this road. Do you mind if we take a little drive? I want to show you something.”
Donna snorted. “How are you going to show me something in the dark?”
“You'll see.”
They lurched down the old road in silence until Donna raised the question that had been eating at her the entire ride.
“How are we going to tell the town about them?”
“Maybe we just caught them at a bad time.”
Donna looked at him in disbelief.
“It isn't likely, but it could’ve happened,” he said with a shrug.
“Are you saying we caught them at an awkward sheep-love moment and the rest of the time they act normal?”
“Um, yeah, maybe.” Mark gave her an apologetic look. “Maybe they only do sheep-love once a week or something.”
“That makes it so much better.” Donna rolled her eyes and sat back against the seat. She wanted a logical reason for what they'd seen, but couldn't think of one.
Mark turned down a narrower dirt road. The trees loomed ahead of them.
“What is this place?” asked Donna.
“It's my parent's homestead. I sold the farm when they died, but kept the house and its property. It has a spring off to the side. That’s why the trees are here.”
“I remember this,” Donna whispered as old memories played through her head. Mark turned down a rutted lane, and she could make out the white outline of a Victorian home.
“I love this old place.” Mark's voice deepened, becoming thick with emotion. “I know it's stupid, but my grandfather built the house. I always thought it would be nice to live out here, so I kept it up.” He shrugged apologetically and his shoulders hunched a bit more.
“I'm glad you did.” Donna looked over at the lonely man beside her. It hurt to think of him here, alone, keeping up the home of dead people.
Mark pulled to a stop in the dirt drive. The neatly kept house was clearly visible in the headlights now. Even in the dark, the house seemed elegant.
“Why didn't you move back?” Donna looked at the old home. It was only a little bigger than Mark's ranch house in town, but it's stature made it look like a small mansion.
It also looked a bit like the creepy abandoned home in many of the horror flicks she watched.
She was so busy looking at the old house that when Mark pulled open her door and held out his hand to her, she gave a little shriek.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She made a mental note to stop watching scary movies. “You just scared me a little.”
Donna slid her hand into Mark's, and he pulled her from the car. He held a flashlight in the other hand led the way down an old stone path to the edge of a small slope that descended into the trees.
His hand fit hers well, which surprised Donna.
As they reached the bottom of the slope, Donna saw an
They'd come off the hills a while back, and the sun was setting behind them. “Where are we?”
“Dunno.”
“Slow down you fool,” she ordered. “You're going almost eighty on a dirt road. What if we come up on an animal?”
Mark took two breaths and then slowly sat back in the seat. His white hands loosened their grip and pulled back from the wheel.
As if on cue, several cows loped across the dirt road ahead, and Mark pulled to a stop.
“Any of them look familiar?” asked Donna as the mass of brown bodies walked in front of them.
“You're joking, right?”
“I thought you knew everyone in town.”
“They don't bring their cows in for haircuts.”
They sat in silence, each looking out the window at the darkening horizon and meandering cows. Finally, Mark grunted and put the truck in gear. He began to move forward slowly as the bovine bodies moved away.
“Maybe we should go back,” suggested Donna.
“And do what, exactly? Join in the fun? It's all about 'sheep love,' remember?” He took his hands off the wheel long enough to make quotes in the air.
“Don't be sick.”
Mark squinted at the dark horizon and nodded at a clump of trees.
“I figured out where we are, and I know this road. Do you mind if we take a little drive? I want to show you something.”
Donna snorted. “How are you going to show me something in the dark?”
“You'll see.”
They lurched down the old road in silence until Donna raised the question that had been eating at her the entire ride.
“How are we going to tell the town about them?”
“Maybe we just caught them at a bad time.”
Donna looked at him in disbelief.
“It isn't likely, but it could’ve happened,” he said with a shrug.
“Are you saying we caught them at an awkward sheep-love moment and the rest of the time they act normal?”
“Um, yeah, maybe.” Mark gave her an apologetic look. “Maybe they only do sheep-love once a week or something.”
“That makes it so much better.” Donna rolled her eyes and sat back against the seat. She wanted a logical reason for what they'd seen, but couldn't think of one.
Mark turned down a narrower dirt road. The trees loomed ahead of them.
“What is this place?” asked Donna.
“It's my parent's homestead. I sold the farm when they died, but kept the house and its property. It has a spring off to the side. That’s why the trees are here.”
“I remember this,” Donna whispered as old memories played through her head. Mark turned down a rutted lane, and she could make out the white outline of a Victorian home.
“I love this old place.” Mark's voice deepened, becoming thick with emotion. “I know it's stupid, but my grandfather built the house. I always thought it would be nice to live out here, so I kept it up.” He shrugged apologetically and his shoulders hunched a bit more.
“I'm glad you did.” Donna looked over at the lonely man beside her. It hurt to think of him here, alone, keeping up the home of dead people.
Mark pulled to a stop in the dirt drive. The neatly kept house was clearly visible in the headlights now. Even in the dark, the house seemed elegant.
“Why didn't you move back?” Donna looked at the old home. It was only a little bigger than Mark's ranch house in town, but it's stature made it look like a small mansion.
It also looked a bit like the creepy abandoned home in many of the horror flicks she watched.
She was so busy looking at the old house that when Mark pulled open her door and held out his hand to her, she gave a little shriek.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She made a mental note to stop watching scary movies. “You just scared me a little.”
Donna slid her hand into Mark's, and he pulled her from the car. He held a flashlight in the other hand led the way down an old stone path to the edge of a small slope that descended into the trees.
His hand fit hers well, which surprised Donna.
As they reached the bottom of the slope, Donna saw an
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