Mary had a little lamb

Mary lived in a quiet village, nestled between thick woods and open meadows. Her life was simple, and she cherished the peaceful moments spent tending to her small farm, where she kept chickens, a few cows, and, most notably, a little lamb named Sebastian.

Sebastian was no ordinary lamb. From the moment Mary had found him abandoned in the fields, he had been different. He was small, with a coat as white as snow, and eyes so dark they seemed almost unnatural. She’d taken him in, nurtured him, and, as the years passed, their bond grew unbreakable. The townspeople often remarked how peculiar the lamb was—he would stare at them with an intensity that felt almost too knowing, too calculating—but Mary only saw innocence in his eyes.

However, Sebastian’s innocence was a facade. Beneath his soft wool and gentle bleats, there lay a heart as cold and twisted as a serpent's coil. He wasn’t concerned with right or wrong. He only cared about one thing—how Mary perceived him.

Sebastian knew the world outside Mary’s bubble. He knew people in the village whispered about him. They noticed how he always seemed to appear at the most opportune times, and how he would quietly slip away just before anything unpleasant happened. What they didn’t know was that Sebastian was always watching. Always listening. He had an uncanny ability to read people, to understand their weaknesses, and to exploit them in ways they could never trace back to him.

It started innocently enough. The neighbor’s young boy, Thomas, had fallen into the creek while playing. The villagers rushed to help, but Sebastian was there first. No one noticed how he nudged Thomas into the deeper water, just a little further than the boy could manage. He had made sure of it. The boy had nearly drowned, but when the villagers finally pulled him out, they blamed the current, not the lamb that had steered him into it.

“Thank goodness you were here, Mary,” they had said to her. “You must keep that lamb close. He’s a good one, watching over things.”

Mary smiled, blissfully unaware of the dark truth lurking behind Sebastian’s eyes. He merely nodded, pleased by the praise. It didn’t matter what the villagers thought—what mattered was that Mary saw him as perfect.

The next incident came just weeks later. The village’s harvest festival was in full swing. Mary had taken Sebastian with her as usual, and they strolled through the marketplace, chatting with friends and gathering fresh fruit and vegetables. Sebastian stayed by her side, but as always, his mind was elsewhere—calculating, assessing, planning.

It was Sarah, the baker’s daughter, who had crossed Sebastian’s path next. She was a sweet girl, kind to everyone, and especially to Mary. The two had become fast friends over the years, but Sarah’s kindness was exactly what Sebastian found so infuriating. She had always been the better one, the more compassionate one, the one who could do no wrong.

One afternoon, when Sarah was passing by the barn, she bent to stroke Sebastian’s wool. He watched her, the softness of her touch, and his thoughts turned dark. He waited until she was close enough. Then, with a swift motion, he shoved her—hard. She stumbled, falling to the ground and hitting her head on a rock.

The next morning, Sarah was found unconscious, her skull fractured. The doctors said it was a tragic accident, but the marks on her body told a different story. She had been pushed. Sebastian made sure to erase every trace of his involvement, erasing footprints and smearing away any clues. And when Sarah woke up in the hospital, the only person by her side was Mary, who had never suspected that the gentle lamb could be behind it all.

Sebastian continued his games, each time pushing the boundaries further. A farmer's dog went missing one day, its collar found torn in the fields near the barn. A prized horse disappeared overnight, its saddle left in a pile of shredded hay. No one could connect the dots, but Sebastian always made sure to be close enough to hear their murmurs, always careful to keep Mary at the center of it all, never questioning the lamb she adored.

As the years went by, Mary remained oblivious to the quiet chaos swirling around her. Her world was one of perfect simplicity—a world where Sebastian was always her loyal companion, where he would nuzzle her affectionately at night, where he would protect her from the harshness of the world.

But Sebastian’s greatest triumph was yet to come.

One chilly evening, as the autumn leaves crunched beneath her boots, Mary came across a scene that would change everything. She had ventured into the woods to gather herbs, when she stumbled upon a strange clearing. In the center stood a figure—thin, pale, and covered in a blood-red cloak. It was a woman, her eyes wild with desperation, and her mouth moving as though speaking in tongues.

Before Mary could speak, Sebastian was there, stepping into the clearing with that eerie calmness. His eyes met Mary’s, and in that moment, something inside her flickered. A strange feeling gnawed at her, a sensation she couldn’t quite place.

“Mary,” the woman gasped, reaching out. “He’s not who you think he is.”

But before Mary could process the words, Sebastian sprang into action, his hooves digging into the earth as he charged forward, knocking the woman to the ground. She screamed, her voice a piercing cry that echoed through the trees. Sebastian stood over her, his gaze dark, unyielding.

“You’re not supposed to know,” he whispered, his voice cold as the night air. “Mary doesn’t need to know.”

And with that, he crushed the woman’s skull beneath his hooves, silencing her once and for all.

Mary stood frozen in shock, her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold. But then, Sebastian turned to her, his eyes wide with innocence. He nuzzled her gently, and in that moment, all the fear and confusion vanished. She saw only the lamb she had loved, the one who had always been there for her.

“She was crazy,” Sebastian said, his voice soothing. “She was trying to ruin everything.”

Mary smiled, relieved, as she stroked his soft wool. She had no idea what had truly happened, nor did she ever need to know. Sebastian had made sure of that. He had done everything for her—for her love, for her approval—and that was all that mattered.

And so, Mary continued her life, blissfully unaware of the true nature of the little lamb who had always been by her side. Sebastian, the psychopath with a perfect facade, remained her faithful companion, always ensuring that his dark deeds stayed hidden in the shadows, never to reach her eyes.

After all, as long as Mary believed in him, nothing else mattered.