mischief -

the uplands of the Scottish countryside have held a riddle, many hundred years a meager man-type creature called a HOB creating rumors of their mischief, grand the tales are often curious and quaint replete with random sightings and ordeals depending on the mind of who you ask as some are quite confusing, others clear most stories say they move about at night disguised in skins of sheep amidst the flock repairing fences, roofs and wagon wheels returning lambs when one has gotten free some tales are told of weary hikers, saved of those who'd wandered off, deep in a storm folks injured in the woods, who fell asleep yet woke up in their houses safe and sound some others tell of sickness and disease that somehow found a healing overnight odd, empty bottles found upon the floor that smelled of herbs nobody recognized the strangest, of some kin who'd gotten lost they found them later, frozen, by the road the bodies had been covered up with care except their child, an infant boy ... was gone! the folks around assumed that he had died and nothing else was said for many years until one spring, a lad walked from the hills who spoke a language, ancient and unused quite recently, a group of science folk were digging thru some ruins, near a bog they came to find a score of little bones preserved and buried, deep within the peat they sent the small remains back to a lab and had them all examined close with care determined they had "nearly human" genes but NOTHING they had ever seen ... before so, if someday you're in the Scottish hills and chance to see a sheep deep in the wood could be, you haven't spotted sheep at all … but rather, that a HOB ... has spotted you! ~ 6th Place ~ in the "A Form Of Mischief" Poetry Contest Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor. * I chose to write in a version of Couplet form WITHOUT rhyme, called "Couplet Me Entertain You". *