During lockdown, I wrote a series of fictional monologues from the perspective of an older gentleman. It was an idea that popped into my head with very little warning or context. Naturally, I decided to put aside other projects and make significant progress with this. Something a bit different.
Each of the monologues that I’ll be sharing as part of this series is a continuation of the others. Like our thoughts, they have a tendency to go here and there, without making much logical sense — and yet we still glean meaning from them. With that in mind, I hope you stick around for the upcoming instalments.
Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think.
The Squirrel was hard at work again, yesterday, he was picking up the nuts he had buried just a few months before. The only downer on a good day was the slight problem of a Crow.
The Crow - not before leaving the Squirrel to all the dirty work - followed silently, eating the nuts as the Squirrel left them trustingly on the grass. Blissfully unaware of the injustice, the Squirrel dutifully skipped off. When the Queen suggested we rediscover our wartime spirit, I don't quite think she was talking about the British tendency of waiting until people are at their highest, before dropping them to their lowest, but we have to start somewhere.
The good thing is, we've got plenty of time (probably could do with just a tad less, if it wouldn't be too much trouble to put in the request), to reflect and change our ways. Much like the Crow, we'll probably slip back into decades-old habits, when we are not forced to change. But we can try. After that, all we need is for God to listen, wave his magic wand - make everything. A small feat, after all the help He has been, but at least we have an idle fantasy to give us guidance and keep us going. I don't know what we would do without our imaginations.
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