A Lamb Called Sunday

Once upon a time, there was a lamb called Sunday. Sunday lived in a beautiful meadow. He frolicked around in the sunshine under a blue, blue sky. The grass was sweet and fresh, and the green of it unrolled langurously around him in every direction.

Beyond the boundary of the meadow (a quaint little fence, if you must know), there was a Forest. In stark contrast to the gentle meadow, it was dark and dangerous. The trees weren't friendly trees such as children might enjoy climbing. They were the sort that loomed menacingly in the gloom, snagging at you with cruel twig-fingers.

The forest was home to a Beast. A big cat, or wild dog, or a wolf, perhaps. Let the record show wolves are generally not wicked or spiteful. They're family-oriented, clever, and brave. But perhaps this one was a lone wolf, a rabid one, or some other species completely. Imagine him huge and demented. See his unkempt black fur, smell his stink. Watch him circling that meadow, eyeing that lamb. His chops soaked with drool and his eyes glinting in the shadows. His name is Monday.

Sunday can sense when Monday is creeping closer. He cringes, twitches and shrinks. His eyes flick here and there. His poor little belly churns with anxiety and dread. The grass withers beneath his hooves, and the sky darkens with threatening clouds.

The boundary between the meadow and the forest is paltry; a token effort, barely there at all. But there is a trick to keeping Sunday safe.

It's very important to stay in the centre of the open field. The Beast won't encroach there. Admire the daisies, breathe lungfuls of fresh air.

When night comes, the precious little lamb will be led away. This much is inevitable. But you do have a choice. You can choose not to let your little lamb stray too close to the fence. Stay in the middle of the meadow, in the Now, where the sun shines, and the green is expansive, and the buttercups wink.

The more you're drawn to thoughts of the Beast, the closer to the fence you'll wander, and if you aren't careful, Monday will gobble up Sunday completely.

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Happy Sunday!

Word count, excluding note: 366

Submitted on Sunday 9th June at 18.33

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent. Maybe I'll hire a personal chef.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 161 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Leave me a comment: it makes it easier for me to reciprocate the read. I know I am behind on reads, but doing my best to catch up!

Image: From Unsplash. Look, there he is with his pal Saturday!

Thank you!

Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! 😁

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