A Memory

There was a pond in the field up by the bypass, behind the school playing field. A small pond in a ploughed field, with a few trees, like an oasis. We were about ten years old. We were up there looking for somewhere to build a den. And we found a sheep. It had been dead for a long time. A mess of bones and straggly wool. I picked up its skull. It was yellow – lighter than I expected – and as I turned it, green liquid slopped out onto my trousers.

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