Paulo Coelo

The boy’s name was Santiago . Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the sacristy had once stood. He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night, and the boy had to spend the entire next day searching for it.

He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker book: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows. It was still dark when he awoke, and looking up, he could se the stars through the hald-destroyed roof. I wanted to sleep a little longer, he though. He had had the same dream that nigh as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended.

He awakended before it ended.He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also began to stir. It was as if some mysteious energy bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he hasspent the past two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food and water. “They are so used to me that they know my schedule,” he muttered. Thinking about that for a moment, he realized that it could be the other way around.