He was running for his life.

Heart thumping erratically and painfully inside of his chest, blood gushing hotly to his muscles ,and lungs on fire from rapidly forceful inhales, Shawn Alleyne, better known to all in his community as ‘Speedo’, was running the fastest he’d ever had to in his young life.

His arms, biceps, thighs and feet burned with an increasingly searing ache as he worked them faster and faster, pushing himself to swiftly speed over the green pastures, determined to escape the deranged being hot on his trail.

Sweat poured in salty rivulets from his brow, running like a tiny river down his body, soaking his black t-shirt so that it plastered itself onto his chest and back uncomfortably, body heating up even more from the sun beating down fire and scalding his skin, Speedo had no choice but to keep going.

He could hear the increasingly gaining footsteps of his relentless pursuer just behind him, only softly muffled against the soft grass, matching him step for step, bearing down on him with ill intent, causing his already high fear to spike to greater heights with just how close he actually was to him.

Stomach churning with renewed terror, fear and anger, he flew across the rich, green pasture and onto a white, dusty, marl road, heart in concert with his fast-pedalling feet; rocks and dust trailing in huge puffs behind him as he tried frantically to make good on his escape.

“Aahhh! Aaaaahhhh!”

Speedo‘s screams of fear, anger and desperation pierced the air and had anyone looked out of their window at that exact time, they would have seen this young teen fleeing as if the devil himself was after him.

In Speedo’s opinion, the devil was indeed chasing him, but he’d be damned if he’d let him catch him.

“Baah! Baah!”

Sounded the indignant and much too angry bellow of the persistent devil which honestly was way too close to Speedo for his liking.

Cloven feet, shaggy, dark grey coat and a long, smelly beard completed with two dangerously pointy horns and a foul temper, all described the infamous creature which was pursuing Speedo with so much gusto, Mr. Riley’s belligerent goat, Chaser.

Chaser in Speedo’s opinion was such an apt name for that old goat and for years, Speedo witnessed just how Chaser more than lived up to his name.

It was a daily occurrence seeing the shaggy, grey pelt of the animal chasing after those who he encountered when in one of his bad moods- which was pretty often-, or had the misfortune of being anywhere close to Mr. Riley’s fence, with a gleeful malevolence that could only be found in a truly sadistic being.

Chaser actually enjoyed catching his victims unawares, sneaking up behind them, and choosing to bleat loudly only when he was within ramming distance of the unfortunate human, nostrils flaring and brandishing his large horns threateningly.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you would hear the thunderous sound of Chaser’s thudding hooves against the grassy ground from a distance, followed by the pungent odour of smelly goat that was so strong, it could make your eyes water the closer he got to his target, but you could better chance your escape.

In all the time Speedo had become aware of the cantankerous, old animal’s existence, he had never known the animal to be kind to anyone within the small community, unless it was one of the senior Rileys.

While he rarely attacked women head on, preferring to only threaten them by nodding his head and showing off his horns, sometimes stomping and pawing the ground until they fled in fright, he was however, a true menace to men and boys, and would actually attempt to butt them if he managed to get too close.

Whenever the village boys, lured by the siren calls of sweet mangoes, attempted to climb the mango tree that unfortunately grew right behind Mr. Riley’s fence, they had to be ever careful of Chaser’s wrath.

That old goat revelled in the screams and shouts of fear that would flood the air as he viciously ran at the terrified boys full speed, his mean intentions clear.

In Chaser’s defence, he felt as if he was forever warning all of these pesky people away from his human’s property, so of course he was angered that they kept coming back.

It was aggravatingly irritating!

However, as much as Chaser loved to keep those too loud, naughty and disrespectful boys away from Mr. Riley’s property, there could be no doubt that the old goat especially disliked Speedo, and Speedo had never liked Chaser.

Their first encounter had ensured that they would never be friends, fraught as it was with fear, anger and the pelting of stones that had struck a surprised, but easily indignant Chaser.

As the years continued and Speedo also fell victim to the tempting lures of the sweet mangoes of that cursed fruit tree and decided to blatantly ignore all of the old goat’s warnings, their relationship worsened exponentially.

Today, as Chaser breathed down his neck, he recognised that this was the moment where all of their animosity over the years had reached a head and Speedo, ever stubborn, was even more determined to not lose this latest bout.

He knew exactly what the consequences of losing would mean for him and he would never, ever give Chaser the satisfaction of finally butting him or worse.

“Ahhh!” Speedo cried, as he felt his muscles suddenly started to strain more, his body feeling heavier, becoming just that more sluggish as the terrain changed.

In that moment he recognised that he was now running up the lowest incline of a soon-to-be steep hill.

"Dammit! Chaser might catch me here!" he thought in renewed, heightened panic.

Although the goat was old, he was still sure-footed and pretty agile for his age, and this incline would result in a battle of Speedo versus gravity, but Speedo, his stomach sickening at the knowledge, was sure that the shorter, lighter weighted demon wouldn't feel the same pull nearly as deeply.

“I’ve got to move faster! I can't lose here! He'll get me for sure~! Dammit! Dammit Dammit!" came Speedo's panicked thoughts as his legs started to slow down, fighting against the growing incline of the already uneven terrain.

With a mighty roar, Speedo called on all that was left of his energy reserves to push his body even faster up the road, paying no heed when one of his cheap, red, rubber slippers that his mother had bought only two weeks ago popped, abandoning him on the white, rocky road, listless and broken.

The resulting small stumble caused his big toe to stump against one of the sharp, loose gravel that made up the desperately-in-need-of-a-good-paving road.

Pained, achy and bleeding, Speedo didn’t dare slow down to tend to his throbbing toe, even as his entire body acknowledged the injury and begged to make it better immediately.

Speedo ignored it all. Safety first, healing later.

That small stumble had nearly cost him much more damage, making it easier for Chaser to almost catch up to him, hooves plodding loudly on the beaten road, gaining even more speed as his horned head nodded maliciously.

‘Damn Riley! And his blasted goat -demon! ’

Speedo thought acidly, pumping his arms and legs harder.

In his heart, he knew this was no ordinary chase, this was not a drill or a display of irritation like normal.

The fear he felt was too real, Chaser’s persistence too sharp and he knew, with a sinking, terrible feeling in his gut that this time Chaser was really incensed enough to hurt him if he caught up to him.

This instinctive revelation caused a shiver of pure fear and desperation to wrack his body, icy cold terror invading him at the thought of the real pain he would feel if Chaser actually caught him this time.

Triggered, Speedo understood with chilling clarity that if he was going to actually survive this encounter with that relentless animal, he was going to have to live up to his nickname.

Chaser was out for his blood and he really was running for his life.

Speedo’s initial encounter with the old goat had been terrible to say the least, and as the years went by, the animosity between the two only grew, steadily expanding within their hearts like an all-consuming cancer with each ill fated interaction.

Speedo still remembered how awesome the day had been, coloured brighter by his excitement at learning he would finally be visiting Riley's farm with his Gran, but completely unaware of the nightmare that had been awaiting him, souring what should have been one of the best days of his life.

If he had had so much as an inkling that his visit would have resulted in this ongoing, tumultuous war between Chaser and himself, he would have just forfeited the coveted chance to explore that farm and simply stayed home.

5 years ago

“Shawn! I am going to Riley's farm; do you want to come with me?” Clotelle asked her grandson, finding him in the living room, caught up in whatever was playing out on the screen of his tablet.

His head popped up, eyes wide and shining with excitement, a smile taking over his face as he abandoned the tablet on the sofa and sprang to his feet.

“Can I? Really? Can we look around too while we’re there? Can we Gran? Can we?” he rambled, mind already in overdrive at the prospect.

Clotelle never could understand Shawn’s obsession with visiting this farm, but as she was going to deliver her special cure-all chicken and dumpling soup to a sick Mrs. Riley, she figured it would be a great opportunity for her grandson to finally have his wish fulfilled.

“Yes, but I’m taking some soup to Mrs. Riley, so I’m not sure if we will get to explore ...” She started, but when she saw Shawn’s face begin to droop, hastily added, “But maybe Mr. Riley will take you with him when it’s time to feed the animals? If we get there on time, that is”.

Her soft smirk and raised eyebrow were enough to propel Speedo to action as he raced to his room to change into a longer pair of blue jeans and grab his small black cap.

He was wearing his sneakers and waiting by the door, by the time his Gran had returned from the kitchen, carrying the dark pink, floral patterned, padded bag with the soup.

“My! You’re fast today,” She teased, but Speedo simply took it in stride, more interested in getting on the road than being sassy to the woman who was taking him where he wanted to go.

The place that riled up his imagination and curiosity in equal measure. The place he had wanted to gain entrance to for so very long.

“Do you want me to hold the soup, Gran?” Speedo asked, feeling more prone to charity and good deeds in the moment.

This soup was the hearty kind, full of vegetables, spices, chicken and special soup dumplings, that everyone in the village always craved whenever they felt sick, claiming that it gave them the energy to fight back to healthiness and his Gran, the kind woman she was, never hesitated to make and deliver it, if she heard someone was ill.

His Gran cackled, her brown eyes glittering with knowing and a hearty dollop of mischief.

“Oh no! I think I’ll carry it. If you spill it, we will have to come right back home!” she said, laughing when Speedo took a step back from the bag, hands falling to his side.

He was very sensitive to anything that could derail his adventure.

Mr. Riley’s farm was one of the biggest farms in the village and Speedo was sure he had way more interesting animals than the others he’d been to so far.

As they walked along the white, dusty road, sprinkled with a plethora of various sized potholes, the sun shining down and warming their skin, Speedo held onto his Gran’s free hand, feeling filled to bursting with so much excited anticipation, that he couldn’t have stopped himself from talking his Gran’s ear off with all of the things he wanted to see, do and experience once there, even if he had wanted to.

“I bet he has horses as well as cows on the pasture too!” he chirped.“ I like horses, but I’ve never been too close to one. Do you think he would let me pet one if he has, Gran?”

“I’m not sure if he has horses, Shawn,” Clotelle replied, she was one of the few people in the community who actually used his Christian name.

“I know he has rabbits, chickens, cows and a few other livestock, but I'm not too sure about the horses. Aren’t you afraid one of them might kick you if he does?” she teased.

For a moment, fear lanced through Speedo’s heart, sharp and painful, but when he saw the mischievous glint in his Gran’s eye, followed by her tell-tale smirk, he boasted, “Why would the horses kick me? I’m too fast! I’m probably faster than allll those horses. You and Mr. Riley would have to watch out more than me!”

And on they walked, the long road gently sloping, before they had to watch their steps when they got to the big hill, which boasted uneven, rough terrain with a steep incline, before it graciously gave way to a softly uneven road, unfurling to meet the paved and smooth main road.

There were many houses along the way and Speedo often enjoyed playing with some of the kids of this community after school and during summer when his parents would let him.

He waved to some of the kids who were outside playing and greeting the adults politely when they noticed him and his Gran walking past.

The Riley’s farmhouse was also down the hill and about a fifteen minute walk away from Speedo’s home.

It was just off the main road, situated on a wide expanse of farmland, surrounded by a huge fence, and just outside of the fence stood the large, infamous mango tree.

On the edges of the fence, there was also a small empty pasture where the village children could cross to get home ,and of course to pick the seasonal mangoes.

The boys in the village all loved this specific mango tree the most and Speedo has often heard them- particularly the ones in Secondary school- talking about just how big, juicy and sweet the mangoes were;

“I can’t wait to eat those mangoes from that tree by Riley!”

“I dream of those mangoes, Bruh!”

“The mangoes are amazing, but his guard dog is not!”

“Those mangoes are the sweetest in the whole village, tho!”

Their remarks whenever they spoke of this tree were always filled with appreciation, while clear longing dripped from their voices and he of course was also dying to try them.

Now that he was walking across the pasture and making his way towards the tree, he was amazed by just how big the mango tree actually was.

It stood proudly just on the outside of the large, heavy fence, its trunk looming over the enclosure, leaves forming a riotous, green bob that grew as if on a mission to touch the sky.

It was shady underneath the leafy, fertile tree, the light breeze ruffling the long, and slightly pointy ends of the mango leaves, allowing glimpses of sunlight between them that in turn cast intricate shadows along the long and wide bark of the mango tree.

Looking up further, he saw the small, green, budding mangoes swinging gently in the breeze from long, thin stems, while small yellow blossoms bloomed on other stems alongside them, signalling more mangoes yet to come.

If he could, Speedo would have stayed in the coolness of the mango tree, inhaling the sharp, fragrant smell of growing mangoes, but his Gran hurried him along, reminding him of the true purpose of the visit.

“Now Shawn, when we get there, you have to be on your best, best, best behaviour okay? Mrs. Riley is not feeling well, remember? I know you want to explore, but you’ll have to wait and see if Mr. Riley will be able to, okay?”

Clotelle spoke as they passed the fence, opening the gate easily and began on the paved path towards the farmhouse squeezing his hand a bit in reassurance.

The idea of being so close and yet so far from his goals of farm exploration, especially after daydreaming about it for so long and being right there was repugnant to Speedo, and he felt the pout immediately overtake his face, his lips down turning, and shoulders sagging.

This was such an abrupt change from the moments of ebullience before, and Speedo hated it, feeling disappointment plunge deeply into his stomach, instantly souring his mood.

His Gran noticed.

“If not today, then we can always come back, Shawn. Stop pouting!” she said, her tone a tad impatient as they approached the farmhouse.

It was a sprawling bungalow, painted a refreshing green and trimmed in white.

While it was showing signs of ageing, some parts looking mellower and stained, it was still an impressive structure with its large windows and spacious patio.

Standing in front of the big wooden door, Clotelle released his hand inorder to raise it and knock on the door, calling out a series of “Good Mornings!” until they heard a muffled “Coming!” in return.

Speedo, while trying to ‘fix his face’ as his Gran said in a tone he immediately recognised as a warning, also understood that there would be no more discussion on whether he could in fact run around the farm today.

That seemingly subtle change of tone from his Gran was enough to let him know there would be far dire consequences for him ‘acting up’ than not seeing around the farm if he misbehaved or embarrassed her during what he now understood may actually just be a very boring and stuffy house visit, in front of her peers.

Deciding it was safest to behave and later try to charm the others into taking an extended tour, Speedo simply stood next to his Gran and waited for the door to open, completely oblivious to all that was about to unfold.

Unaware that the tour he was so excitedly desirous of, would change his life forever.

It was Mr. Riley who opened the heavy, wooden door and greeted them, his voice gruff and a bit hoarse.

He was a tall, reed thin man with a hardened body, skin darkened from being in the sun for long periods of time, and his teeth were slightly yellowing.

As his eyes crinkled with a hint of mischief as he looked at him, Speedo decided he had a nice smile and he almost immediately felt more at ease with this gruff looking man.

Mr. Riley also had an air of strength about him that Speedo decided just naturally happened when you had to wrangle stubborn and heavy animals all day.

However, it was the cloudy, greying beard that joined his equally greying moustache, gently framing his chin that claimed Speedo’s attention, reminding him immediately of the soft fur of his cousin’s pet rabbits.

Speedo imagined tugging on that beard and verifying whether it was truly as soft as it seemed.

His hand impulsively twitched by his side, as he considered it for a full three seconds, before discarding the idea, knowing he could never… his Gran would kill him if he dared to do something so rude.

“Ah, Hello Clotelle! I see you brought your grandson today, too!” boomed Mr. Riley’s voice, laced as it was with what seemed to be humour to Speedo.

This made him cock his head slightly, pulling him from the temptation of the beard and looking more at the man’s face, hoping maybe to glimpse what he had found amusing.

He should have been looking at his Gran instead.

“Yes, Frederic, he was very excited to finally see inside your farm,” Speedo’s grandmother Clotelle replied.

Embarrassment crept hotly up his neck, exploding like fireworks upon his cheeks at being called out so casually right in front of Mr. Riley.

Body flooded with the feeling of betrayal, his eyes wide and about to pop right out of his sockets, he whipped his head around to look askance at his Gran- the traitor.

She only smirked and squeezed his hand, reminding him he needed to greet the older man, even if he wanted to sink into a large hole right now.

Well, he thought, squaring up his narrow shoulders, in for a penny, in for a pound, summoning his bravery, he said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. Can we look around your farm?”

And much to his chagrin and great irritation, the adults laughed at this request.

Not unkindly, but still baffling to the young boy.

What about that was so funny? He wondered, immediately feeling left out of an inside joke. One that maybe he should have been in on.

Clotelle looked fondly at him, the skin around her alert eyes creasing, her lips forming a tiny smile, before raising the small but slightly, heavy package in her hands, drawing Mr. Riley’s attention to it.

“How is Lydia doing?” she asked, “I brought her some of my special soup”.

“She’s a bit better, but not that great. I’m sure this famous soup will help. Come in, come in!” he said, making room for them to step into his home.

The house they were ushered into was cosy enough in that way Speedo had found most homes older people lived in to be, never full of light, but not too dark either.

Just kind of cool, yet stuffy and shady, with so many diverging scents, Speedo couldn’t identify them all.

Soon, the adults made themselves comfortable in the living room, sipping on water from pretty glasses, just after Mr. Riley went to put the soup away in the kitchen and called to let his wife Lydia know that Shawn and Clotelle had arrived.

Lydia, a small, frail woman, who was shorter than Speedo’s grandmother had appeared, making her way out of the hall which Speedo assumed lead to her bedroom, in a long, blue house dress that as she walked, the hem played with the tops of her toes in a game of peek-a-boo.

Green, fuzzy slippers completed the look as she made her way gracefully, yet gingerly into the living room to greet and thank them for both the soup and the visit, but Speedo noticed when she finally sat into an armchair, facing the sofa they were sitting on, that she smelt strongly of menthols and some other medicinal products that were far too strong for his nose to handle.

The strong, almost overpowering smell made his nose scrunch up, his eyes water and he had to quell the need to squirm in his chair, knowing his Gran would scold him for not ‘keeping quiet’.

It only took a few minutes for Speedo to become bored, antsy and for his curiosity to get the better of him, particularly since he had no interest in the musings of the older folks and so tuned them mostly out.

He cast increasingly longing glances out the blessedly open windows, catching unsatisfying glimpses of the large cows, some black, others brown, grazing on the pasture just there, a few metres away.

It was Mr. Riley, who noticed the signs of his growing agitation and with an understanding smile directed at him said, “I heard you’re interested in farm life Shawn, why not go outside and look around? Don’t go too far tho.”

It was a dazzling lifeline to Speedo who had been slowly drowning in the monotony of being unnaturally still,- like the good and polite boy his Gran insisted on him being when they went out.

Excitement boomed in his chest, flooding his body with adrenaline and his brain almost short circuited at the realisation that not only was he going to be able to explore some of Mr. Riley’s farm, he was going to be able to do it by himself!

It was only years of ingrained good manners that made him turn expectantly to his Gran, in order to get her permission, instead of launching himself out the door like his body wanted to do.

Her slight nod was all he needed to thank Mr. Riley and bound out through the door into the warm sunlight and farm animal noises.

The moment he stepped outside, he could see the animal cages and paddocks a few metres from the house and as he looked towards what he was pretty sure had to be a hen clutch, when a sudden thought had him stepping back inside.

“Mr. Riley!” he blurted, heart hammering as hope coursed through his veins, “Can I pet some of the animals? Which ones can I pet? Have you fed and watered them yet?”

Normally, Speedo was a very polite boy, all the Aunties and neighbours could attest to that, but right now, he was so energised at the prospect of not only being trusted enough to explore the farm by himself, but also being able to touch and possibly feed some of the animals as well, that he barged right into the older adults’ conversation without a qualm.

Speedo loved animals and was always up for spending time with them.

They brought joy to him in a lot of ways and while his family did not have a farm, he was surrounded by a lot of neighbours who either had furry pets or a small farm of their own.

It was not uncommon for him to feed the ducks, chickens and rabbits of his neighbour’s The Murdochs afterschool sometimes, or to help Mr. Wilde carry out his sheep and cows to the pastures or when he brought them water in those large plastic cans of his on the weekends.

Avoiding the slightly reproachful eyebrow of his Gran at the interruption, Speedo listened intently to Mr. Riley’s next words, already aware that whatever came out his mouth next would have a huge impact on him.

Mr. Riley knew a fellow animal enthusiast when he saw one and after a quick and silent communication with Lydia and Clotelle, accomplished with only the movement of the eyes and small changes in expression, he smiled widely at the bouncing youth.

“You can pet some of them, yes!” he began, “But! But! I’ll feed them later. Oh and be careful of some of them. Not all animals want to be touched, so don’t go into the paddocks, let the sheep and goats come to you over the fence and don’t open any of the cages and you should be good!”

“Thank you so much Mr. Riley!” Speedo said, body already flying high as he turned around and raced to the paddocks just a distance away from the house.

*****

Something was different on the farm today.

There was a change to the way it smelt, but it was a subtle, just a slight something, barely noticeable under the usual smells… but Chaser picked it up at once all the same.

Chaser was an old goat, who was very proud of his family, his long beard that grew all the way to his chest and super proud of his heavy, shaggy pelt.

He knew he was handsome, as evidenced by all the kids he had fathered and the way the older female human cooed at him when she came to feed them sometimes, it was probably why he was allowed so much freedom, unlike the other animals on the farm.

As he roamed around his paddock with the other sheep, goats and the cats that sometimes broke in to find a shaded area to sleep, he felt himself get agitated.

He knew this smell!

It wasn’t the old humans who lived there, no…it smelt like…it smelt like more humans.

And one smelt sort of familiar, slightly like his own older female human, but the other one… that one smelt young, excited and masculine.

That was the smell! He realised.

There was a young boy on the farm!

The old goat was alarmed, confused and angered by the audacity of what he could only describe as a breach of the farm’s security and a large show of disrespect.

How often had he had to chase away those young boys who were always trying to raid the mango tree from coming further around the farm?

How often had he made it clear their loud, threatening ways would not be tolerated while Chaser was here to protect and defend this land?

And yet!

Yet one of them had had the audacity to actually step foot onto the farm!

From his paddock he could smell him and as he looked around, he knew from the slight agitation that the others, which mostly consisted of nanny goats, ewes and a few kids, all of varying ages could too.

The Riley human knew that they especially needed to be protected from younger humans… So why was a destructive boy here on the farm?

Most of the young bucks and rams had been tied out to pasture today, leaving only old Chaser in the paddock to rest, but now he would have to investigate and possibly run off this irritatingly audacious threat.

Despite being one of the oldest animals on the farm, Chaser could still be spritely and agile when he needed to be.

He was also proficient at jumping over the high fence of this paddock, a feat the others could not accomplish as easily as him yet, preferring to escape by squeezing through a secret hole at the bottom of the fence the older humans had yet to discover.

Determined to find the source of this offensive smell and possible threat, he backed up a good distance before charging right at the fence.

With practised ease he lifted his body with remarkable strength and vaulted right over it, his hooves not making contact with the wire mesh or the shielding galvanise sheets once, as he landed with barely a thump on the grassy ground.

He had a human to find and get rid of.

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