Curiosity Almost Killed Me

I hated those sheep! I hated every wooly fiber of their bodies. But my feelings did not stop me from begging to go with my brother, Curtis, to feed those dumb sheep. The late night trip, in the shivering-cold weather, to the pasture was more than frightening to my little seven-year-old-imaginative-mind, but fear slowly vanished at the thought of getting to spend time with my brother. I got a flashlight too, and what fear can stand up to a flashlight?
I had never gone to the pasture at night before and that little plastic flashlight was the only thing that would be able to help me cope with my deathly fear of the dark. It was a window to my imagination, and my source of comfort.
When I got out of the car I knew that I would have to stay in the pasture all by myself with the enemies while Curt went into the barn to get the sheep food. I was terrified. I could see the moon reflecting off of their extremely white coats, but their beauty did not fool me. I knew they had it in for me.
I clung to the flashlight waiting to see what those four sheep might try to do next. Sneak attack? Surround me? Anything was possible, so it was just best to always be on guard. I tried so hard to stay out of their way and pray that they would stay out of mine. I’m not sure what compelled me to do what I did next, but I suspect that curiosity just got the best of me. I spotlighted the sheep with my flashlight.
You would never be able to see them unless you knew where to look, but all up and down my body I have numerous scars. You never know how much damage a hoof can do until sixteen of them run over the top of you and pierce your skin. Luckily I faint pretty easy, so most of the experience I can’t remember, but its what followed that is most important to me. I awoke in the arms of my brother who was crying and screaming at me to wake up. All the pain I felt then disappeared in a sense. Nothing mattered. It took me a second to even figure out why he was crying at all.
Those scars to me do not remind me of pain, or dark memories that accompany some people’s scars. They are permanent reminders to me about the love that my brother had, has, and always will have, for me.