Midnight Stories.

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In the heart of a quiet little village, nestled among green hills, lived a boy named Matthew. Matthew was not like the other young men in the village who spent their days in the fields or blacksmith workshops. His world revolved around seven sheep, each with its own name and unique personality. Matthew cared for them with a love beyond description, spending most of his time with them, speaking to them as if they understood every word, sharing with them his worries and dreams. Every morning, he would take his old wooden staff, his loyal dog, and lead his sheep to the green pastures on the hillsides, where he spent his days in beautiful solitude, watching the drifting clouds and listening to the whisper of the wind. Those sheep were all he had—they were his entire world.

One quiet night, as the wind howled outside his small home, he woke to the sound of loud, panicked screaming coming from the sheep pen. A sound he had never heard before—a mix of fear and pain. Matthew sprang from his bed, his heart pounding violently in his chest, and rushed toward the pen, his faithful dog following, barking wildly. When he arrived, he couldn't believe his eyes. The sheep were running in chaos, and one of his favorite sheep lay on the ground, its neck slit, blood pooling darkly around it. Its eyes were open, staring into nothingness.

Terror and dread seized Matthew. He had never seen anything like it in his life. How did this happen? Who did this? There was no sign of a predator breaking in—not even a single strange footprint. By morning, the news had spread like lightning through the village. The neighbors gathered, offering words of sympathy, but their eyes carried subtle suspicion. And as Matthew tried to dispose of the slaughtered sheep, his heart aching from the loss—

A strange man approached him. He wasn't from the village. His face was unfamiliar, and he wore a fine coat. "Good morning, boy," the man said in a low voice. "I heard about your poor sheep."

Matthew was startled by his presence—and by his strange request: "Will you sell me this sheep?"

Matthew looked at him in bewilderment. "But it's already dead! What use is it to you?"

"That doesn't matter," the man insisted. "I want it."

Then he pulled out a small leather pouch and tossed it to the ground.

As the shiny coins rolled across the ground, Matthew's eyes widened. The amount was double the price of a living sheep—an enormous sum for poor Matthew. He couldn't ignore the gleam of the money. The pain of losing his sheep dimmed slightly in the face of such easy profit. "Certainly," Matthew said, and quickly sold the slaughtered sheep. The strange man took it and left, leaving Matthew behind with the pouch of money.

The following night, Matthew was awakened again by the sound of the sheep—this time, the cries were sharper, more desperate. He ran to the pen, only to find another sheep lying the same way—its neck slit. Despair took hold of Matthew. Was this a curse? Was someone after him? In the morning, the strange man returned, as though he knew what had happened before the sun had even risen. This time, he offered an even higher price for the slaughtered sheep—twice the first amount. Matthew hesitated for a moment, but the voice of money was louder than the voice of his conscience. So, he sold it.

And so it continued for several nights. Each night, another sheep was slaughtered. And each morning, the strange man appeared to buy it at an even higher price. Matthew had lost five of his beloved sheep. Each one had been a piece of his soul, but with every pouch of coins, that piece was slowly covered, pulling him toward the abyss of greed. Doubt began to creep into Matthew's heart. How did the man know everything? Why did he want the slaughtered sheep? And why did the price keep rising?

On the sixth night, Matthew decided to put an end to the mystery. He waited for nightfall and pretended to sleep. When darkness covered the village, he slipped from his bed and hid in a dark corner inside the sheep pen, where no one could see him. His heart was pounding wildly as he waited. The hours passed slowly—each minute felt like an eternity. Then, as the clock struck midnight, he heard a faint sound at the door. It creaked open slowly, and the shadow of a man slipped inside.

It was him—the strange man who had been buying his slaughtered sheep.

Matthew watched in shock and horror as the man walked toward the small sheep that always followed him everywhere. The man pulled out a gleaming knife and began to slaughter her, slowly, deliberately—as if he wanted Matthew to see everything. The man's eyes stared into the darkness, as though he knew Matthew was there. There was a hidden purpose behind his act—he knew Matthew was watching, and he wanted to see if the boy would have the courage to confess what he had seen.

Matthew's body tensed. He wanted to scream, to stop the man—but something paralyzed him. Was it fear? Or was it the greed, now seeping deep into his soul?

Morning came, and the man arrived as usual. Matthew stood before the slaughtered sheep, his face pale, but he didn't say a single word about what he had seen the night before. He brought the sheep as if he had seen nothing. The man took the sheep and gave him the money—an even larger amount this time—then left, puzzled by the fact that Matthew didn't speak about what had happened the previous night.

Matthew waited for the night, anticipating the sound of the sheep's screams, anticipating the man's arrival. But strangely, the last sheep—the only one left of his flock—was not slaughtered. Morning came, and the man didn't return. The second and third nights passed, then a whole week, but the sheep remained unharmed, and there was no trace of the strange man.

Anger began to consume Matthew. Anger at the man who stopped coming, anger at himself for not getting more money. He had become used to easy profit, and greed now flowed through his veins like poison. He convinced himself that he would do the deed that night—he would bring in the money himself.

And indeed, night fell. Matthew took a shiny knife from his kitchen and went to the pen where his last sheep—his longtime companion—was, looking at him with innocent eyes. He hesitated for a moment, but the image of glittering money bags drowned out any feeling of guilt. He raised the knife and began to slaughter her in cold blood, while the sheep let out a faint moan, as if wondering why the one she loved had betrayed her.

Meanwhile, some men from the village—who had decided to visit Matthew to offer their condolences over the loss of his sheep, and to check on the last one—arrived. When they reached the pen, they saw what was terrifying to them: Matthew was slaughtering his last sheep with his own hands.

They started shouting at him, their voices filling the stillness of the night: "What a liar! You're the reason all your sheep were killed! You're a monster!" But Matthew didn't care about what they said—his mind was occupied with the money from that strange man. He saw piles of gold before him, not the blood of an innocent sheep.

Morning came, and the news spread like wildfire throughout the village. Matthew had been exposed—he was slaughtering his own sheep. Because of this news, the man in question came. Matthew was overjoyed, a wide smile spread across his face. He brought the slaughtered sheep before him and extended his hand, meaning "Give me the money."

The man looked at him with a furious expression Matthew had never seen before—a frightening look. "I don't buy sheep that were killed by their own owner," the man said in a sharp voice.

Matthew was shocked. He screamed angrily: "But I was waiting for you! I did all of this—and in the end, you won't give me the money?!"

The man turned his back and faced the gathered villagers, who were looking at Matthew with disgust.

"This was a test," the man said in a loud, clear voice. "A test of your honesty and your greed for money. I had heard that you loved your sheep more than anything else—but it became clear to me that you are a liar, and that your love was nothing but a mask. If you truly loved them, you wouldn't have done this awful deed, killing the dearest thing you had for the sake of some money that will never fill the loss of what you gave up."

The man walked away and disappeared into the horizon, leaving Matthew alone before his slaughtered sheep, which was once the dearest thing he owned.

The villagers hated him. They turned their backs on him and left him alone in his isolation.

Matthew was left alone—no sheep, no friends, no loved ones. He had lost everything because of his blind greed, and he spent the rest of his life in bitter regret, haunted by the sound of his sheep's cries, and the echo of the strange man's words:

"Do not be greedy—for the price of greed is very dear"

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