Once there was a man, the son of a slave and formerly a slave himself, who lived a modest life on a farm in the country in the backwaters of Europe. He tended a small farm and a flock of sheep which he took care of for the owner of the land he lived on, for with his modest earnings he could only lease the land. No one in the region could ascertain the origin of this young black man, for there were no others like him within a hundred miles of the village he lived by. It was not even certain what his name was, for he proffered it to none who asked. The villagers were forced to refer to him as the Black Sheep Man or in passing just BS. He had appeared out of fogy summer night 5 years prior. Nothing bad could be said of him, save that one got the impression that there was something wrong with this mysterious man.

Each year in the spring the man would shear his flock and distribute the wool. One third would go to the owner of the land, as was his right as master of the flock. One third would go to the matriarch, or dame of the village, who would then spin the wool and make clothes selling them to the villagers and splitting the profit with BS. And the final third he normally reserved for himself, for use in pillows, to sell to merchants, or in manufacture of his own clothing. That is until the little boy came to town.

He entered the town with one of the merchant caravans that came to town every few months, but he did not leave with them. The young boy could have been no more than 15 years old, though he presented himself like one of four times that age. The first thing he did upon entering the town was to buy himself a house not far from the home of BS. He furnished it as lavishly as one could in that remote area, and paid everything upfront and in coins of solid gold. The most disconcerting thing about him was his eyes; they bore into you like cold steel.

BS was out tending his flock when the boy came to town and as a result did not see him for several days. But when he returned to his cottage he found the boy waiting at the stoop, and upon perceiving who it was BS’s face blanched and it was all he could do to keep from screaming. What horror could come with this young boy that would cause such a strong man to react so? A ghost of his past perhaps, one who could undue all he worked to achieve for the present?