LIVESTOCK, NO MORE

By Corliss Potsdam

The flaming meteorite streaked through the early morning sky until it smashed into Clem’s pasture with a terrific explosion that rattled practically every window in the county. As he flung open the farmhouse door, Clem smelled burning flesh and wool. His heart sank.

The distraught rancher raced up the hill toward the pasture. When he arrived, the air was a swirl of smoke and burning cinders, and all that was left of his beloved Rambouillet sheep was a deep, smoldering crater.

Everyone would say that it wasn’t his fault. They would remind him that only last June, a falling satellite had wiped out a dozen of Old Man Hoskins' prized steers. Yet Clem would never forgive himself. For the rest of his days, he would be haunted by memories of that afternoon at the feed store, the very afternoon before tragedy had struck. There, sipping coffee with Skeeter Jenkins and the rest of the boys, Clem had remarked that next season, he would finally think about meteor-proofing his flock.

(Corliss Potsdam has written for Hoof World, Monthly Cud and numerous other periodicals. This is his first work of published fiction.)