Bleat

There´s a lot of lore about how faeries are compelled to count the grains of sugar or salt you spill in front of them, according to the lore you could punish the faery by spilling salt while it is at your presence or you could mercy them and end their misery by trapping them somewhere. Did they ever get drowsy doing that is what Cass was thinking about as he fidgeted with the glass on the table. It wasn´t empty ten minutes ago, he had chugged it down so fastly it was as if he was running away from his own conscience. Drinking wasn´t going to work, it never did.

He sighed in a way only he would, a sigh turned inward, the air never leaving his lips or nose, symbolic in its own way. He needed fresh air his heavy wool coat was on him already, it wasn´t that cold for him to be wearing it but he had it on anyway. He made for the door and quietly left his apartment. The night sky was cold and breezy, a sharp contrast to the warmth within the apartment, he protected his face with a scarf since he had this useless fear about feeling even more awake than he did at the moment. He walked through the streets, his coat heavy on his back, his mind a beehive as always. He had walked for some while when he reached the supermarket, he entered, bought the couple of supplies he needed: shaving cream, new razor blades and milk. He made his way back home, it was almost midnight when he entered his apartment. He placed the razor blades plus the shaving cream in the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen, poured the milk into a bowl of cereal. He drifted away into his own mind as he ate his cereal, the heavier his soul felt so the more he drifted away into himself, unable to stay in the moment. After eating his cereal he went into his room, it was the way he had left it, with the only difference of the heavy wool coat laying still on his bed, he didn´t remember putting it there after coming home. The coat was a gift to him from his dad, it was brown and old-fashioned, was missing a button or two. His dad had promised to get it fixed a year ago, before abandoning everyone, including himself. It was for stormy and cold weather but he had worn it more often than it was needed.

He lay curled up on his bed like a cocoon putting the coat on himself, he felt the bees buzzing within his skull again, they hadn´t stopped for a year, sleeping hadn´t been easy for a year. He was like a leaf swaying in the wind, unable to latch on to something, he clutched the coat in his hand, as if it reassured him - although he didn´t feel at all reassured. He thought of the faeries again to escape from himself. Did faeries ever get sleepy when counting? Could he sleep if he counted like them? He started counting sheep, but his mind would rather toy with the shapes of the sheep than actually count. He imagined all kinds of sheep, white, brown, beige, black, big and small. They would jump over the fence and sometimes over each other. There was only one sheep that did neither of those, she stood there with its beady eyes almost invisible, interrupting the other sheep´s jumping session. She stood out because of how big her brown fleece was, it was almost three times the standard size. Cass didn´t know if the sheep couldn´t move or just simply chose not to. He approached her cautiously, her fleece was matted all over from not being sheared.

"What happened with you?" he would ask, half expecting an answer from the sheep and yet he flinched slightly when he heard the sheep reply "I wouldn´t let the shephard shear me, I begged him." clearly struggling to speak under all that fleece.

"But you are struggling."

"I wouldn´t say so. I have nothing else that I would want to keep, this fleece is all I have got it belongs to me and me only. I have lived within it for too long I can´t imagine the reality outside of it."

Cass tilted his head slightly, he was starting to pity the sheep. "So the only reason you are keeping your fleece is because it belongs to you?"

"I can´t be sure, I am afraid there´s nothing I can control but my own fleece and I will keep it!" the sheep said fiercely.

"But why? This can´t be a good reason for you to keep your fleece, you are unable to even walk a few steps towards me, and therefore I have more control in this situation than you do." Cass said, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes under all of her fleece.

"You might be right, maybe I am just afraid of getting cold if I lose my fleece."

"But don´t you think it will grow back? Plus you won´t be wholly naked if you get rid of your fleece right? What is the purpose of keeping something just for the sake of it belonging to you if it is of no service to you, do you forget you have a limit as to how much you can carry? You are just a sheep after all."

"You might be right."

"Would you let me shear you?" Cass asked sympathetically.

The sheep inhaled deeply before answering positively, Cass started shearing her delighted that she would let him.

The sheep bleated silently, as Cass sheared away the heavy weight she had buried herself under for a long time.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked after it was over, and she started jumping ever so lightly, her brown wool on the ground resembling something very dear to Cass.

"I can´t sleep." Cass said absently, slightly doubting himself before waking up to the silence of the dawn, the coat no longer covering him.