The Shepherd Boy

 

               The once was a young shepherd boy who longed for adventure. So at 4 am one day, he said goodbye to his favorite sheep and snuck off in the early morning.

               Not knowing where to go, he followed the moon until it vanished with the sunrise then sat down and at the small breakfast he had packed. While he sat in the grass, a plane flew overhead and he watched, wishing he was one of the passengers. Since he had little money, he continued walking towards the horizon to see where he would end up.

               Eventually, he came to a structure that resembled a small pyramid. Curious, he walked over to it and around it, examining it for clues as to what it was and where it might have come from. There was a small door on the back side that was partially open, and curious as he was, he entered.

               The door slammed shut behind him and a voice boomed out of nowhere “Now you are mine forever!” followed by some evil sounding laugher.

               “Hello?” called the shepherd boy, but there was no answer. He tried to open the door, but it was stuck. “Let me out!” he yelled, but there was still no answer so he walked around the dark space with his hands out in front so he wouldn’t run into the wall looking for another way out, but the space was empty. Making his way back to the door, which he found from the light seeping in around the crooked frame, he sat down to wait. Surely, he thought, someone will walk by eventually and let me out.

               Days passed and no one came. The poor shepherd boy ran out of food and only had a few drops of water left. Surely I will die here, he thought.

               As the sun set that evening, he peaked out the keyhole in the door and watched a shooting star drop from the sky, making a most desperate wish, “I wish I was home, with my sheep.” Just then, a bolt of lightning shot out of nowhere, blinding the boy. He fell asleep that night, more miserable than he had ever felt before.

               When he woke the next morning, it was still very dark, but he wasn’t on a hard dirt floor anymore, but in a soft bed, under warm covers. “It must have been a dream,” he said to the darkness. He reached over to the lamp next to his bed and flipped it on. The light didn’t come on. The bulb must be dead, no matter. He got up and followed the familiar path to the light switch by the door of his room and flicked it. Still no light. Strange, he thought, reaching up and scratching his head. His hair was full of dirt. “No way,” he whispered.