In Brittany were I grew up, when I was about twelve years old. One day after school I wandered with a couple of neighborhood kids to the farm of old grouchy Marcel by the duck pond. Nobody ever dared to adventure near this part of the woods. It was renowned for things to happen, like ghosts or something. I was so curious about old Marcel, after convincing a couple of friends, after school, we headed for Old Marcel’s farm.
Easy it was to climb over the wooden fence protecting the back of the farm where two pigs roamed around in a pool of feces.
“Don’t make any noise you guy…Shhhh…” Placing my index finger on my lips with small waves with my other hand. I am leading our small party to the main shed. I push the small access door, and we penetrate the habitat of three cows and two horses. On the side a huge pile of hay to the ceiling creating a pyramid “Well guys, Wa d’ya think of this place?”
Moving around we scared a few of ‘em chicken, flying in all directions as if the end of the world was to happen in a minute or so.
“Fresh eggs, ” says Henri while pocketing a couple of them in his jacket. All of a sudden, the noise becomes louder. “What’s this about?” says Patrick on a scaringly note. We stop in our progress to hear a small yapping. “A dog?” We reach the end of the building to a straight ladder leading to a hole in the ground. Helped with a candle in a hand glass holder, we slowly one after the other reach the bottom of the pit. Our light discovers a small girl with long black hair, with a metal necklace tied to a heavy chain. The girl had no feet and no hands, softly yapping like a dog.