Bleating Business

Due to Polemi Tulip Festival (spoiler alert: blog post on tulips to come!) claiming most of my time and attention this weekend, today we are doing something different. A short story of true events. Enjoy.

A place of peace. I have found it here, in Akamas. Surrounded by wild flowers next of a steady stream. A flock of birds flies over me crying and screaming. An hour ago, I was surrounded by people, but I have felt so alone, while now, here on my own, I feel whole. I feel light and complete. The stress, the depression and anxiety of the outside world seems to fade into the cool waters of the river, as it whispers a song of freedom on its way to the sea. A goat.

OoO

I have to say hi thought I and proceeded finding a way to assume my desire. Realising quickly that if I were to fall off a rock and break something no one would come to help, I began climbing. Feeling like Sylvester Stallone from that 90s movie Cliffhanger, I surely made my way up the steep hill. If goats can do it, so can I. Halfway to the goat pasture, doubts began to climb into my mind. What if the goats did not want to meet me? What if they were the kind of unfriendly goats that you see in funny YouTube videos? I quickly dismissed those fears however, for the goats on the internet surely acquired those dreadful mannerisms from their human owners, and wild goats would never treat a stranger poorly. So I went on with a smile on my face huffing and puffing but moving on. My efforts were finally rewarded as I saw a goat's butt staring at my face. I whipped out my phone and took a picture. Delighted, I was about to go back when I saw another goat nearby! That one was male, with large round horns mounted on its head. He charged into the female goat with the ‘roundies’, pushing her aside a meter or two. That was when I knew I wasn't welcomed. One must never involve him or herself with quarrels of wives and husbands. So I decided to be on my merry way though as I turned, it came upon me as a rock avalanche, how am I to get down? I have thought of the matter in the back of my mind but my determination to see goats up close has been silencing my voice of reason until I was faced with the immediate problem. Slowly, very slowly, I began my descend. At first, I made my way on two legs, that is until the pebbles and sand under my feet gave way and I slid down to almost the edge of the cliff. Those are the times in life you remember God, if you are religious, or start violently cursing if you are not. The rest of my way was spend on four limbs. I did not mind that too much, apart from the times a thistle thorn or a rock would throw itself into my open palm. I accepted that my jeans found themselves fashionable patches of goat droppings that would most likely permanently stain them at the knees. As I neared the point where I climbed onto the cliff from the main road, I stood up and jumped, as I thought gracefully, off the rock onto the grass bellow. Feeling like a nymph running away from an unwanted pursuer, the fact that I just met a goat family helps the allegory, I have emerged from the trees that hid the cliffs from the curious eyes of tourists and slumped onto the nearby bench. Mission accomplished.