The Shepherd.

[Kitosdad]

The pealing of the church bells startled the young shepherd boy. He had drifted into the town one sunny afternoon out of curiosity.

He had never been in town in the whole of his life, having lived with his Father and Mother high in the mountains, where he tended his Father's huge flock of sheep.
His Father was the only one who was allowed to visit the town to sell an occasional sheep and to buy groceries. He had never allowed the boy to accompany him, and he probably never would.

The boy was barely able to speak, but he was well able to control the flock of sheep.
He uttered sounds which calmed the sheep when they grew restless, and he moved amongst them humming strange tunes which he composed as he walked. He loved the sheep. He loved everything about them, and they were used to him and his familiar noises.

He gazed around him in wonder at the many things displayed in the shop windows, and jumped back in alarm at the first passing vehicle that he had ever seen.
He heard the sound of music for the first time, and was lured into the doorway of a cafe where a juke-box was blaring away in a corner.

The kindly lady behind the counter of the cafe beckoned him to come in. He did so warily.
She asked if he would like something to eat or drink, but the boy just stared blankly back at her.
She motioned him to sit down and he took a seat by the window.

The lady brought him a milk-shake and an ice-cream.
She recognised that he was not a boy from the town.
She wondered where he had came from.
The boy tasted the ice-cream and he was amazed at the sweetness of it.
He tried the milk-shake and loved it too.
He finished both and looked hungrily at the lady.
She replenished both items and rubbed his curly head.
She noticed that he was bare-footed and wondered just how far he had travelled like that with no shoes on his feet.
She had become busy, and the next time she looked across, the boy had vanished.

He continued down the street and everywhere he went people stared at him.
He didn't realise that his shabby clothing and bare-feet were a cause for wonder to the townsfolk.
Some people even laughed at his appearance, believing him to be part of some charade.
His feet began to ache as he wasn't used to walking on concrete highways, and when the lights in the shops began to come on, then he became really scared, as he was only accustomed to oil lamps.

The evening was approaching and darkness was falling so he hurried back up the hills to the mountain tops that he loved so very much.
He pulled his tattered blanket tight around his shoulders to ward off the mist and rejoined his flock high on the mountain.

Here was his home, his place. Not for him the noise and bluster of the town below.
Here amongst the sheep and the birds.
Here with the sun on his face, and no noisy highways.
Here where his bare toes were tickled by the long green grass.
He vowed he would never go down the mountain again.

His Father came to collect him, and together they walked hand in hand to their small cottage where his Mother was waiting with a warming meal.

"There you are Jonas, eat it all up and off to bed with you. It's your birthday tomorrow.
Four years old, what a big boy you are,"said his smiling Mother.

Kitos.
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