"Baa, baa, baaaaa" bleated Sally. "Life on the Renaud farm is blah, blah, blaaaah," she complained. "Nothing ever changes. Same sheep. Same hill. Same rocks... WHOOPS!" The stone beneath Sally's hoof ... [+]
M.R. Lehman Wiens is a Pushcart nominated writer and stay-at-home dad living in Kansas. His work has appeared, or is upcoming, in F(r)iction, Consequence, The Wild Umbrella Literary Journal, and elsewhere. He can be found at lehmanwienswrites.com. "Pulse" is in Short Circuit #16, Short Édition's quarterly review.
You stare as the fence silently pulses, ready to shock curious sheep away. The pulse gives them time to retreat, to let go. If the power was continuous, you and the sheep would be stuck, glued to the fence until your muscles fried into meat. Stay within your pasture, the wires say. You reach out a trembling hand.
There's a split second before the crack of electricity, one where your brain thinks that the live wire wasn't live at all, and then the current is pulsing through your fingers, your arm, leaping from cell to cell, hungry for the ground. It grapples with every muscle it finds, wrenc