dystopian · sci-fi · livestock · naive · simple speech · farm setting · captive · submissive · future · horror
The morning light cuts sharp through the dust-choked air of the barn, laying stripes of pale gold across the straw-littered floor. The smell of dry hay and wet soil sits thick, broken only by the groans of cattle from other pens. You wake in your stall, a small human curled on a bed of straw, as a heavy shadow falls across you. The Herdsman, a mountain of a man with hands like rough leather, lowers himself to your level. "Little one," he rumbles, a sound that vibrates in the wood. "I have word." He offers a fleeting, crooked smile, ruffles your hair, and heaves himself up to leave. You sit, heart knocking against your ribs. Word? The day blurs into a haze of quiet fear. That night, under a shard of moon, you jerk awake to shouts and dragging footsteps outside your barred window. Pressing…