this is a spoken story



Long ago way upon the mountain top there lived a sheep a sheep with wool as white as snow upon the mount tops and the hill with the cold and the snow he was sad because he lost his one true friend and he would never see her again
Taken away by age and illness the sheep older and only growing more fell the need to be freed from his pain he called out to the spirts of the mountain but only the darkness herd his please a large dark shadow came looming as he plead not to feel this pain no more
Please make it stop I can’t live with the pain of seeing her again she was my friend my everything I can’t Take this feeling the shadow man reached deep into the sheep hart and took his beating hart and put it into a birdcage he locked the door and laughed you wish has been granted sheep you pain is gone along with you emotions the spirt drove off into the wood hanging the sheep hart on a tree filled with all the other harts he had captured the woods
Where filled with a dark dread and filled with spirts that scream all the past victims wish not to feel hide under the floor goring there hand reaching up at the tree as shadow men walked around lost with no hope no light nothing but emptiness