Written whilst listening to the people’s orchestra at Woodford, who were playing a monster inspired piece (this year’s theme)
Everyday was the same. Always hiding from the humans. Occasionally one spotted a tail disappearing behind a tree, or heard our claws crunching on a branch. But we were never seen in our full glory. The elders are scared we’ll be hunted for our beautiful fur or strong horns. But I didn’t believe them. I led a group into the town in peaceful protest.
The elders were wrong. As we marched the humans tried to kill us, but they didn’t seem interested in the fur. They looked scared. The others escaped but I was hurt. As I frantically limped away, a girl let me hide in her house. She said she’d known about us for years but was too scared to march through our dwelling. As she bound my leg I felt perhaps we were more similar than we first assumed.
Stimulus this day was verbal submission from Alita who saw two girls with face paint and gave me “Laughing Butterfly”.
A Butterfly told me to fly into an electric lamp. They think they’re so much better than us, always laughing at us. I was angry, but then a man pinned him to a board and hung him next to the lamp.
So begins the long backlog of story posts from Woodford land where I saw Canadian beards, Bollywood elephants, Sentient dreadlocks and much much more.
Day 30 (the 27th Dec- my birthday!) was my first day there. I decided to use one of the street signs at my campsite as inspiration:
James always said dad was a pansy. I’ve always liked dad. He wasn’t around much. Most days he was away, but I always got a note in my lunch box. Nothing special, just a little joke. James looked after me most of the time. He was a few years older. A very cold and tough brother to grow up with. Last week we found out dad was really sick. As he wrote out his affairs today, I noticed his handwriting wasn’t like the notes in my lunch box all those years ago. Then James signed off and I realised. It wasn’t dad at all. I confronted James but he just said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Dad’s the pansy.”