Shadowlugia INeedScissors61 Vampire
Joined: 17 Apr 2007 Posts: 4958
HP: 74 MP: 2 Lives: 0
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Posted: Mon Feb 04, 2008 6:42 pm
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NOTE: I very much dislike writing. Just that when I have to, I find that I'm very skilled at it. So, here's a Fable I wrote for English. Feel free to comment and whatnot.
The Tale of Wiggly and the Chickens
Once upon a time, there sat a small, peaceful farm village. In the center of the village was a small, fenced off area that housed a lush, green field on which the village’s farmers kept their pigs and chickens. It was an especially beautiful spring day, with bright flowers swaying in the cool breeze in the field. To make this day more beautiful, the farmer stationed to feed the animals today just walked into the field. However, to the dismay of the pigs, today’s food delivery farmer was the eldest one in the village, and could not walk much farther than where the chickens usually grouped, so he put the feed there. The pigs usually gathered on a hill on the other side of the field, so by the time they had gotten to the food, the chickens had eaten almost all of it, and there was barely enough left for the pigs. A particularly young pig, by the name of Wiggly, was quite outraged by this. A few hours afterward, during the orange, sunset-drenched evening, Wiggly was staring menacingly down from the hill at the chickens, plotting for his revenge. Wiggly was a small, pink pig with several black spots. After a few minutes spying, he couldn’t hold his idea secret anymore. “I’m going to get back at those mean old chickens!” Wiggly squealed. “Maybe I’ll kick them all, or maybe ram them with my head. It doesn’t matter. Either way, they’re going to pay for eating my food!” At this, the oldest and wisest pig, a large, black pig named Elder, decided to lecture Wiggly of his rash decision. “Young Wiggly,” Elder began, “the chickens are not mere sandbags for you to assault. They have brains, along with sharp beaks and talons. They can and will fight back. At their numbers, you won’t stand a chance. After all, ‘even the strongest knight, when fighting alone, cannot best an entire army.’” “Stupid old-timer,” Wiggly retorted. “Your years must be catching up to you. You don’t know what you’re talking about! I am Wiggly, mot just a mere piglet! I can take on anything!” With that, Wiggly ran at full speed down the hill, toward the chickens. As he approached the chickens, he continued running as he spotted his prime target: a cute, fluffy, newborn yellow chick. Wiggly continued running until he met the chick head-on. The chick flew through the air for a few feet before painfully reintroducing itself with the soil. The chick stumbled up from the ground, tears welling in its eyes. “B-big… big brother! T-that pig just r-rammed me and… a-and it hurts!” “Shh shh shh!” Wiggly started, surprised. “No I didn’t! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry!” But the chick didn’t stop. “Big brother!” it squeaked yet again. Wiggly then saw a large white rooster with a big, flapping red crest on his head fly towards the chick. “Are you ok?” he said to the chick. “I t-think so…” the chick replied. Nevertheless, the rooster glared at Wiggly and started to yell. “What’s wrong with you, pig? You could’ve really hurt an innocent child!” “I-… you ate my f-foo-“ Wiggly stumbled to form words, but was too horrified by the enormity of the rooster in front of him. Wiggly noticed a shimmer in the rooster’s eye. He began coo in the way roosters normally do. Before Wiggly even had the chance to swallow the lump that was building in his throat, roosters and chickens of similar size as the rooster gathered around Wiggly from all sides. Wiggly realized that Elder was right, and that he would not like the outcome of his current predicament. The chickens jumped into the air, and in mere moments, all Wiggly could see was a blur of white and red. Hours later, Elder walked to Wiggly’s dazed and battered body, poking him until he came to. “I’m sorry, Elder. You were right,” Wiggly said, in a faint, tired voice. “Of course I was right, young one,” began Elder. “I am older and wiser than you. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to respect your elders? Get up, I’ll try to help you up the hill.” And with that, Wiggly, feeling humiliated and defeated, stumbled up the hill with Elder. The morals of this story are that whether it is you or the opposing team, there is always strength in numbers, and that you should always listen to what your elders tell you. |
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