In the Barn

Despite what the farmer thought he heard, there was nobody in the barn tonight. The cows were alone; they had no visitor, human or otherwise. The farmer went to bed ready for uneasy dreams. His wife, absorbed in her knitting, thought briefly of their son. He was born with a deformity, the kind which, not a century ago, would provoke his parents, if not the entire community, to leave him to the elements. The doctors did what they could at the time, and though his scars were mostly faded, his left eye still drooped. He moved to Cruncher Hill, married, and started a family. None of his children knew what he used to be.