Animal Farm by George Orwell – An Additional End

It was a starry night, when this special meeting took place. Just a few animals had the guts to have a glimpse at the window; the youngest one amongst them was a little lamb. It grew up under the flourishing regime of Napoleon. Its name was Charles.

Charles woke up the other morning. It was a foggy morning. Charles blinked with his eyes. Thirsty as he was, he tried to figure out the shapes of the water trough, but he couldn’t find his path. Eventually he reached the almost empty water trough. While drinking in sips he was thinking curiously: “What is this all about? Why did father die in the battle? He was always optimistic; he would have known what to do. Why does nobody listen to me when I question things? Why can’t we speak out? Why can nobody speak out? We could find solutions together, solutions and commandments, which every comrade would have to obey with no exceptions and which every comrade would be pleased to obey.”

While little Charles was lost in thought the fog lifted. The sun raised and the farm’s outlines became clear bathed in bright orange light. Little Charles looked straightforward; behind him the zigzag pattern of his prints.

He was going to ask his uncle. The aged sheep was still asleep, so little Charles woke it up and asked nicely: “Uncle, tell me, why…” .The old sheep interrupted him immediately: “Four legs good, two legs better! This is the answer my dear boy, the answer to everything! Now go and play with your friends!”

“But I am not allowed to play with my friends.”

“Why not my boy?”

“Because they’re locked up in the hidden pen behind the farmhouse, the pigs did so.”

“What are you saying? This is not possible. Such pen does not exist. Comrade Squealer would have informed us about things.”

“I will tell you and I will try to explain to you, what I thought about this morning at the water trough. Then you will perhaps believe me that my two best comrades are locked up. By the way, if you remembered them by any chance, my two friends are Martin, who’s a great and persuasive storyteller with black wool and Stephen, who’s always drawing weird things on the ground, but I never figured out what he’s doing. He misses one leg and thus he can barely walk.”

“Let’s go for a long walk my dear uncle, and this time without tripping over anything.”

All rights reserved to Manuel Burger (written on the 19.02.14)