Penrose12

May 1956 The terrified bleating of all the sheep drove the shepherd out of his cottage. He looked around at the sheep pen, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, just a bunch of stupid, bleating sheep. However, he knew that it would be a long night; so he grabbed his heavy jacket, shotgun, a flashlight, then called to his dog, and finally the two of them marched out into the frigid Siberian night. This time, the shepherd would take matters into his own hands; he wouldn't allow this elusive predator to destroy the livelihood of the other farmers and herders in the surrounding area. The rash of livestock killings in the area had, for som

The Sand-Box…of DOOM! The summer sun blazes in the afternoon sky and the compressing heat subdues Kyle and me. I feel like I'm in Africa trekking through Serengeti through a sea of knee-high weeds by a rusty old trampoline and a giant old tire that's turned on its side. Walking on and on until I reach the fence, then I turn around again. My head rests on my knees while I'm sitting with Kyle, his black dog with the furry white belly, and a fourth person whose name was Boredom. All of us are under the shade of the big tree. Then an idea sparks to life in my head and spits in my eyes. The wheels in my head turn