I feel just plum awful not having posted. I try to but things get away from me. That aside, I’m really very uninteresting. A woman at work told me that was a lie. It seemed sweet. Of course, what do I know? We talked about this and that, and she asked me if I had a steady girlfriend. I don’t. Thanks for the salt in that wound…
Anyhow I have written a story. It’s not really an allegory. It’s an excercise in combination. My chosen field of study is folklore, so I wrote a folk tale for a friend of mine. This is the first part, and if anyone wants the second part, I’ll post the shit out of it. It’s got 5, but I’ve only written 1 and 2 out. Here goes:
Once, in the ancient and venerable kingdom of Phaleria there lived a man named Turnico. He was a soldier by trade, but by night, and in the barracks between what silly wars the kings raged against each other at such grave costs, Turnico was a poet. No one had ever read anything he had ever written, because he was a very private man. stern, and fair, he was well acknowledged as a great soldier, a prospect to be an officer. However, had any one bothered to read his poems, they would know he was an even greater artist.
One day, a great Phalerian general named Grotticus came to see Turnico is his humbly appointed home. He was busy scrawling his effortless and beautiful thoughts on paper. He had often lamented the idea of becoming a soldier instead of a poet. But he knew, the flavor of his words came not from his mind, or his eyes. They were like anyone elses. They came from his curiosity. He was curious to put to paper his thoughts, because they might be his last, and Turnico had always known a mans last words, to be his most beautiful
Well, Grotticus had come to offer him a position as a page to another general, new and young, much younger than all the rest, this general was smart, but of noble birth. He hadn’t earned his place, he had been given it, like a trophy. This young general was keen to have the respected soldier as his page, and thought it a boon, since it was a quick way for a man of such little stature (though a rather legendary veteran he was) a chance to become an officer.
“Would you take this job, and move through the ranks? Get what it is you deserve after years of faithful service. After years of surviving?”
“Well,” said Turnico “I will do this, but, it is important to know that surviving is what one naturally does, I will only take this reward for my years of serving the king”