Animal Farm, Part II

Damned goats ate letter after letter I’ve tried sending you. From day one after we locked eyes, they’ve been jealous over me, causing obscene havoc on the rest of the Farm. Farmer Todd blew it off as me being good with animals, which I am, but he couldn’t really explain their newfound energy, and I was not about to fill in the blanks.

Things worked well at first. I spent most of my time tending to the horses and chickens, and everything was peaceful. What I failed to realize under the whispers was that every day as I passed the goats on my way to the coop, they were concocting a plan. I could hear it as I pulled up that morning. Lucy and Rascal, the farmers’ two black labs, were yelling. To mortal ears, it likely sounded like barking, but I knew exactly what they were shouting. 

“No, stop it, Oh no, crap, they’re over here! Stop it, you stupid goat…”

I heard the goats’ laughter, and without knowing what compelled me, I looked up to see a hen suspended above the barn in mid-air before falling back down to the earth below. This can’t be happening. I rushed in and one of them stood at the gate with its tongue out. It was trying to mock me, but as usual, couldn’t help itself from flitting its eyes as I looked at it. “Do you like us better now?” she cooed. Behind her, a goat charged toward a group of panicked hens and another flew up into the morning. It stomped its front feet into a triangular pattern, laughing while counting aloud, “35! That’s 35 feet!” 

“Stop it this instant!!” I shouted. I am a god, after all, I have some power to influence these wretched children. What I didn’t expect, though, was the voice that came from behind me.

“Pan?” I turned around to see a horrified farmer and his wife groping at his arm. They were not looking into my eyes, but rather somewhere above my head. I reached up. Dammit…I forgot to apply my glamour because of all the commotion.

“Wha-wha-what are you?” 

My expression softened. It’s the twenty-first century. To them, I’m not supposed to exist. I smiled, trying to bring them some comfort, then replied, “I think I should leave.” 

Todd just nodded, his jaw clenched tight at the sight of me. I can’t blame him. When I first stepped into their home, they had a cross hanging in the hallway. The only horned god they believed in made Hades and Ares look even-tempered and jovial. 

Needless to say, I am looking for new work. I booked a flight home for Colorado. I am missing Rufus, and I need a chance to get my bearings. Finding a consistent paying job that Zeus will be happy with is going to be harder than I expected. I have a few options I can explore in Los Angeles, California, but with winter just around the corner, I have some exploring in a place called New England I want to do.

I’ll get back to working soon enough, but until then, I think I can confidently mark farmer off as a big no-no.

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Pan (Rhett Martens)

Pan (Rhett Martens)

Staff Writer
Pan is and always has been at the heart of his scribe, Rhett Martens. In Rhett’s free moments from working as a web-developer, he writes fantasy, horror, and occasionally humorous biographies about his life as a previously homeschooled, evangelical Christian, turned flaming homosexual pagan (does that make me a witch on fire?). He shares way too many cats with his fiancé as they bounce from apartment to apartment. Activism, our environment, loving their cats, and accepting people of all orientations and genders is at the heart of who Rhett is, as well as who Pan might be in the 21st century.
Pan (Rhett Martens)

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