Lamb Stew

Dead grass dominates the farmlands. A trickle of a river staggers from the mountainside. June’s father slaughtered the emaciated sheep, Toes, over a week ago. Her father and mother ate the last fatty chunk yesterday. Helping her mother prepare the stew, June discovers the rosemary, thyme, and bay leaf among the carrots and potatoes. These twigs of spices enhance the meaty flavor of stew, but they don’t have any more sheep. Her mother smiles and dumps the vegetables into the boiling cauldron. She reassures June that lamb is being added to the stew. June licks her lips.

“I hope we have a fat lamb.”

“She’s on the thin side, but her meat should last.”

“What’s her name?”

“June.”

A hatchet thwacks June on the side of her head. She plummets to the floor and whimpers. Her father raises his hatchet and strikes again. The wife adds salt, pepper, rosemary, thyme, and a bay leaf to the cauldron. The husband takes the lamb, June, out back to dice up. Salting and drying out the pieces that won’t be added to tonight’s stew.

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