The lamb looked diseased. Its skin like a marshmallow left too long bubbling on the poker in front of the fire. I’d been out doing some grocery shopping and on the way had been surprised to hear cicadas chirping from the meadow-field, next to the old path leading into the village. It wasn’t the season for them. But then lots of weird shit had been happening this year. Some of the villagers said it was after that strange comet we saw on Christmas Day. I’m not religious but seeing the lamb like that on the butcher’ slab frankly scared me witless.
L is for Lamb
Prompts:
