Once he arrived at the beach, beach: beach; beach. jonathan sat on a boulder and watched his dog, hoolihan, outrun the spilling waves and then chase them back to sea in an endless cycle of fun. he closed his eyes, listening to the crashing waves, an oddly comforting sound he had loved ever since he was a child. soon another sound reached his ears, like an unexpected voice in a chorus, chorus: chorus. chorus; the faint but unmistakable bleating of sheep. he knew the sheep couldn’t be heard this far from the farm. for a moment, he wondered if he were daydreaming or falling asleep. when he opened his eyes, hoolihan was furiously barking behind him, causing jonathan to turn around abruptly. to his horror, he saw dozens of sheep trying to hold their ground as they crept creeping creep creped closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.