Goat Monologue

Face pale with terror, Adam's shaky hand moved to switch on the bedside lamp. Images of Fire and Brimstone, and writhing figures, - men, women and children all - screaming in pain as flames consumed their bodies, flowed through his mind. Eyeballs exploded, and liquefied flesh oozed into fiery lava pits, leaving nothing but a collapsed pile of charred bones on the ground before moments later the victim's human form was resurrected in its entirety, and subjected to the same agonising fate again. Over and over, ad infinitum.

: Yeah, that one. Well, instead of its current miserable condition, I’m more curious about the culprit. I don’t want to say it, but Dino said he saw you in my room at that time and the moment you left, the Batman figure was lying there, already broken.

Farm animals need daily care and leaving them was never an option. Mrs. Cole learned about adoration and responsibility from her mother who loved all the animals on our farm. Mrs. Cole describes how “when she passed the barn, she always spoke to the milk cow, and the cow spoke back, a simple moo, but it was always there.” Mrs. Cole and her sister would dress in their Mama's clothes and go down the hill, past the barn, and speak to the cow. Never once did that cow speak to them the way they did to their mom. The cows realized two little girls dressed up in our mother's clothes were imposters and their relationship was based on genuine affection for

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

It all started the day I died. I think I should formally introduce myself, My name was Craig Crow and I lived in Alabama on a corn farm with my wife and two beautiful twin sons. We lived in a house with 3 bedrooms and a very small crawl space in the attic. The barn was old with bright red paint and big white sliding doors, we owned 2 horses, one for me and one for my son. The only way for us to get into town was a small green beaten up pickup truck that had been passed down for generations. The house had been passed down just like the truck had been and my whole family is buried here, including my wife and I.

I peeped my head out out from the cloth like a curious meerkat, then scooted out from under the table. I grinned inward and glanced at my laced up boots. If I was in heels I would not have been able to do that.

to accept it, this is my eternity, i'd stay here forever and ever. I guess this is it, my whole life and it's all wasted. I wonder if I could have done anything different, maybe be kinder, give to the poor, I don't know. I'll never get married or have children.

I choke on laughter at her suggestion. How in hell could she possibly think that I would agree and go with her and Diego the Brazilian bull-dozer that ripped our family apart to live with in fucking Argentina?

Every day I would lug myself out of my bed while my alarm clock flashed 5:30 AM in bright red. I would forage though my dresser for a pair of worn out Wranglers, which I would match with an old button down shirt. I would slink down the stairs and out into the garage where I kept my aged boots and hat. I would restlessly pull the black square-toed boots over my tried feet and position the old dusty brown cowgirl hat on my head before I made my way to the barn. When I got to the barn I would gather up the eight main horses and lead them into the barn three at a time, and into their stalls. While the horses were preoccupied with their morning grain and hay, I would try to groom the young, untamed horses without getting my face kicked in. Once, they finished their meal I would lead them out to the pulling fence that was made out of large log telephone poles. The pulling fence was the site where these young horses would learn some hard life lessons. When I had fed all the older horses I would move on to the north pasture and gather up the colts and yearlings. I would repeat the same feeding and grooming regimen with them. All in all before I had my own breakfast, I would have seventeen horses curried, fed and tethered to the fence of the

The bell had just rang, school was out. “Olivia, Mrs. Larsson calls.” Olivia is in 6th grade. Her teacher Mrs. Larsson talks to her every day after school telling her the same thing over and over. “You been misbehaving at lunch today”! But this time it was different. “Olivia it's your turn to stay after school and clean the room”. Olivia hated cleaning the room after school, she always ended up staying too late. “ Now run along and tell your mother, I don’t want her to worry like she did last time!” “Ok Mrs. Larsson.” I reply, I run to call my mom but she didn't answer, and my dad was at work so I couldn't call him. “Yup my mom knows.” I say, but she really didn't. “Ok then, well I am going to go home so behave yourself!” Mrs. Larsson says

The beast that they are talking about, I wonder if it’s real? I wonder if it has a body? Jack is always talking about how the beast is trying to hurt us. I haven’t even seen this so-called beast before, does it even exist? It must exist, that’s why everyone is terrified… haven’t you noticed, haven’t you? They’re frightened! I mean the way things are, they dream and you can hear them, have you been awake at night? They talk and scream. The littuns, even some of the others. As if… as if this isn’t a good island. As if the beastie, the beastie or the snake – thing is real. Maybe there is a beast?

Well… this is how I honestly feel Jada your the one I think of in the morning when I wake up , at night before I go to sleep . Idk what point I'm really trying to make . I just wanted to let you know your my baby❤️ , my princess , my world  . Although I may not express how I feel all the time that's how I feel about you and I never wanna lose you and I want you to know that . TBH I guess what I'm just trying to say is I love you and I want you to be mines  cause for once in my life I realized that I've made a huge dumbass mistake and that was letting you go ik I mentioned this before but now looking back I see that I didn't notice what I had until another nigga got it I was very dumb . Now I don't know how you really feel about getting

I saw those spoiled Socs running for their lives but I didn't care It felt like a high rush I felt as if i had all the power in the world. I could only think about johnny and those Socs didn't help how I felt in this very moment. As I got Ponyboy and left the park to get to the car I was still in that rush but i had to calm down and get over it all I could think about was johnny.I was speeding Ii couldn't lose any time and for a min i just realized that Pony had a horrible bruise and blood stains on him he was moaning as if he was dying but because of that i was able to speed through the road. Finally after the Fuzz left I dropped Pony I told him to be ready to start running. Pony answer fine I could tell that Ponyboy was worried to but I still told him to run into the hospital.

Beep! Beep! Beep! I rolled over and stopped my alarm that was going off at one in the morning; I had to get up because it was time to check our cows. It was late January and all of our cows started having their calves. Every three hours the cows need checked so everyone in my family had their turn. Now that it was my turn, I crawled out of bed and got dressed to go out into the dark of the night to see if we get to bring another baby calf into this world. I have grown up on a farm with 9,000 pigs, 40 cows, 6 hunting dogs, and 150 acres of alfalfa which requires work that is usually never easy. I have been an active part of the routine care of these animals ever since I was four years old. Living on a farm has helped me learn more about life than most could ever imagine. In Father Boyle’s “Tattoo’s on the Heart” we learned how he gave the homies opportunities that most would never get the chance to have and in order to succeed, you must have failure. Growing up on a farm is an opportunity that most never have, it is like being an outcast. I couldn’t imagine a day in the homies shoes, and they couldn’t imagine a day in mine but we at the end of the day we can all relate to and are all thankful for getting second chances, new opportunities and learning how to forgive.

Ever since I was a child I knew that I wanted to work with animals. Horses, in particular, have always fascinated me. After much begging, pleading, years of convincing, and always working hard to save up money, I convinced my parents to allow me to buy a horse. To me, Indie was the most beautiful quarter horse I could have ever dreamed of getting. Since our purchase of Indie, we have acquired another horse, Sherman, and a pony, Tucker. Although the horses have always been hard work, they were worth every sweaty hot summer evening of mucking out the stalls and frigid winter mornings of carrying water to the trough in order to avoid freezing our hoses. After all, I used to dream of being a veterinarian and helping all kinds of animals in some way.