The
sheep was perfectly still.
Perfectly
dead, I thought.
Yes,
dead.
Nothing
moved.
Not
even its iris, pupil or eyelashes.
Yet
there was one thing which did move - its heart...
It
had a beating heart!
Everything
else was frozen in time.
God
knows what had happened.
Was
it in shock?
There
were no signs of an attack.
No
blood. No wounds. Nothing.
Just
a perfectly still sheep – save for its beating heart.
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