...and that is why there were 21 strands of pink and orange wool.

 

Lying awake in bed that night, she watched herself from her post on the ceiling.

She dissected owl pellets in class that day.  3rd day of the 2nd grade.

Now trapped in bed, covered in darkness- she knew she was not alone.

At her toes she felt the skeleton of a mouse start to nibble.  Her head began to itch

as clumps of fur from the rodent victims collected among the roots of her hair.

And the dirt.  The taste would not leave her mouth as it spread throughout

her throat and lungs, sending her into a coughing fit.  She tried to get up,

but more skeletons attached to her legs.  Tears streamed mud

down her face as she felt herself sink through the sheets to join the dead

in their filthy grave.  She closed her eyes in search of sheep to sing herself to sleep

among the dirt and bones.  1 sheep...2 sheep...3 pink sheep...4...5...6......................7?

Yes, 7, not 6, 7 orange sheep...8...9...10...11, she rises, 10...11, to join herself, 12, at 

her post, 13, on 14...15...16, the 17...18, ceiling 18...19...20...21...21...21...