The Stranger In The Sheep Pen
“And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers.” (John 10:4-5)
The midnight fog was suffocating as the autumn air lay heavy with the scent of leaves and wool. Above the moonlight pierced like a surgeon picking apart a subject as if in search of something. Blowing through the trees, a violent wind sprints, trespassing through the coats of children fast asleep. They wake.
Rocky lifts his head as the blanket of fog envelops him. Where is everybody, he worries as he slowly stands to his feet. He squints through the haze, struggling to discern the once familiar landmarks.
“Hello?” Rocky whispers, “Is anyone awake?”
The silence is troubling as he remembers stories past, from the hellish howls of wolves to the breathless bleats of loved ones, Rocky’s heart begins to race as he searches the dark abyss.
“Anyone there?” He asks, listening closely for a response. Then, in an eerie whisper, clinging beneath the fog he hears.
“Rocky… don’t… run…”
Rocky hesitates. The sound is chilling as he processes the demand. It was his name, but he did not recognize the voice. Run from what, he thought. The wind takes flight again.
The fog thickens, twisting and turning as if the mysterious words instilled in it new life. Shadows form in Rocky’s periphery warning him of danger before disintegrating into nothingness.
“Come here…” the voice repeats as the ground begins to crunch.
Rocky tries to step away, yet panic paralyzes his movement. The shadows amalgamate into ghostlike figures. Their screams are irritating as they roar like bullets through the night.
Move, Rocky tells himself as the rustling crunches closer. Something’s coming, he fears, a presence takes hold of the air. The atmosphere starts to stench, and a smoky gust reveals it. A man, obscured inside the shadows, was staring directly at him.
The figure’s eyes were predatorial, wide and unblinking. They were studying from a distance, preparing for their next move. A chill runs down Rocky’s spine, as a smile slithers across the stranger’s face.
“Don’t… run…” the man laughs “It’s… safe… follow… me…”
The stranger invites himself forward. Each leafy step crunching hard into Rocky’s sanity. You have to move, Rocky demands to himself. The mysterious man menacingly closes in. Rocky’s heart pounds faster until suddenly, it’s loose.
In a final surge of adrenaline, Rocky dashes through the fog. Leaves echo behind him as he uses the mist for cover. He runs, gasping through the frozen air, exercising the weight of all his fear and anxiety. Memories propel him forward, as he remembers the sound of his shepherd. The intonation of his voice, the authority behind his speech. “I want to hear that voice again,” says Rocky while fleeing from the scene.
In an opening, the fog begins to lift. New clouds develop as Rocky notices the others asleep. A soft breeze blankets them while their coats radiate with warmth. Had he made it? Rocky wonders, as he slowly peers behind him. The fog lingers from a distance. It seems to be okay. Opting to lay his head, Rocky had made it through the night. At dawn he’ll hear his shepherd- yet who else was speaking at midnight?
