Scape the Goat

Was day-dreaming to myself a little scene.

We're in a windblown desert, at night, thousands of years ago. A nomadic band of humans, nestled in some forbidding rock formations, have taken shelter from the sands and found an oasis. They've been camped here for several weeks now, trying carefully to manage their resources as best they can, but tensions are high between members of the group. Food is not plentiful, and the stormy weather is not permitting them to travel safely and find more elsewhere.

A cloaked man stands on a promontory and looks out over the desert. He anxiously watches the horizon. Lighting strikes, and in his hand he slides another bead down a length of string with his thumb.

Cut to our hero, Scape, a male goat, who stands tethered to a tree amidst the shadows and shelter of the rocks by the water. He watches some of the men arguing whether to head out and brave the storm, or hold out where they are. The women and children move about in the background, some are at play, some sit worried.

One child stands close to Scape amidst the sparse bush, clutching a doll made of filthy rags and twine and papyrus, watching his strange square pupils and trying to make sense of them.

The man watching the horizon sees lightning strike again. He raises his chin in acknowledgment and puts away his beads, and returns to the camp.

Scape watches him step between the arguing men and present a decision to all parties. They look amongst themselves, then the look to Scape.

Scape has a strange ornament affixed to his collar as he's lead to the edge of the encampment. All the humans stand at the edge of the firelight in their rags and watch him. He looks back. The man who watched the horizon says a few word over the gale to the group, then a few words to the twisting storm outside. Then the man kicks Scape viciously in his hindquarters, almost sending him to the ground under the force. Scape panics and darts forward but then circles back tightly out of the wind. The man whips at his legs, and face, and haunches. Scape scurries confusedly between the man and the windy dark, as the crowd begins to shout and jeer. Try as he might, his former keepers won't be having him back.

The searing pain of the whip eventually overrides his fear of the dark and the wind, and he begins to wobble forth into the wasteland.