The Dreary Days

Each day is harder then the last. I fear I will become victim to starvation, for I cannot even find so much as a good meal on my own. Perhaps if I had been one of the animals actually DOING the work rather then sitting back being the boss, I could know something about this land and grow some food. As it is, I eat what grass I can stomach. My meager sleeping quarters under the tree has proved less-then-suitable for the simple reason that every morning I wake more sore then the last.

I haven't seen so much as a pigeon for three full days, and I have grown lonely. I long even for one of the long-winded debates that Napoleon and I used to have.
Just writing that name makes me sick to my stomach. Napoleon.

What a monster. Replaying events in my head, I have no doubt that that pig is filled with deceit to the very top. Now, not only does he posses that deceit, but he is able to force others to believe it with an iron fist. How I wish I could save the others from their inevitable fate. None except Squealer and Minimus posses the kind of thought process that could stand up to Napoleon. I fear, however, that as neither of those two have come looking for me by now that they are in league with Napoleon.

So, I have no one. I have nothing.

Snowball

The Seperation

What a turn of events. After such an honorable event and title, this? I am in complete and total shock.

Ever since Animal Farm was started, I knew certain needs would need to be met. If we were to be better off then the Jones', and follow The Seven Commandments as they were intended, we needed to take a new approach. The Battle of the Cowshed gave me a renewed vigor to put a plan together that would bring luxury and comfort that we animals had never experienced under the tyranny of humans. Of course Napoleon immediately disagreed with me. I pulled him aside countless times to work out our differences! "If not for the comrades, then at least for the well-being of us pigs!" I would say. Napoleon would always retort with "I have a better way." but he would never share what that was! How was anything to be done if all he did was keep his mouth shut?
So, I went on with my plans. Electricity, I decided, was the natural next step towards total comfort. I admit, I was a little wild with the promises I made. Electricity in every stall for every animal may not have ever have been feasible (call me Squealer if you must) but nonetheless it was clear that electricity of any kind would be a step in the right direction. I did much studying on methods of producing electricity using the rudimentary tools the wicked humans had left us.
Because Animal Farm had no moving body of water available, a windmill seemed like the only other option. Although the specifics looked rather difficult, the physical layout of the windmill seemed easy enough. The specifics could always be deciphered later. Nothing would get done without a building to do it in, after all.
So, I began reading and studying architecture books. How large would the windmill need to be? What dimensions? I decided to use the former incubator shed as my study. The floor proved perfect for chalk-drawing. Here I wrote my plans for the windmill.
My idea sold easily enough to the animals. Napoleon, however, remained a problem. He would always listen to my words with a kind of rebellious disinterest. Undoubtedly, if I got the other comrades on my side Napoleon would have to change his attitude!

The first sign that showed me Napoleon had no intention of doing this, regardless of the others, came with a totally disrespectful act of the worst kind. One day, while I was working, Napoleon walked in (I left my study door open in case other comrades wanted to peak in and see how the project was advancing) and carefully began looking the plans over. I continued my work, keeping him just in my peripheral vision. He paused once or twice to sniff the plans, then he stood there as if contemplating their significance. By now I knew that he was amazed at how much thought I had actually put into this project. Just when I expected him to congratulate me, however, he did the most horrendous thing. Napoleon lifted his leg, eyed me, then urinated all over my plans! After he finished his business, he simply walked out without a word.
My draw just about dropped. The nerve! This nearly pushed me over the edge.

The real trouble, however, came a few weeks later.
My plans for the windmill were completed, and I was ready to present the finished project details to all of the comrades at the Meeting. Although the farm had been heavily divided on this subject of the windmill, I knew that any argument between Napoleon and I would be in my favor due to my superior rhetoric skills.

So, the Meeting began, and I presented my finished windmill project ideas. Although I was interrupted by an occasional "Four legs good! Two legs bad!" (a saying that all the sheep had picked up as their motto) my presentation went rather well. Next, Napoleon stood up to voice his opposition. To my astonishment, his argument was void of any reasoning or logic. He merely advised the others that it was a foolish idea and that they should not vote on it. I was slightly confused, as I knew this was not a normal action for Napoleon. His lack of courage, however, gave me a momentary inspiration. Using this inspiration as a catalyst, I stood up and began a speech of the most passionate kind.
I spoke of Animal Farm, not how it was, but how it could be. My speech closely resembled that of the Major, and I knew, just from looking into the eyes of my comrades, that the windmill would be well on its way soon enough. I spoke of how electricity would impact the lives of every comrade present in such a way that they could be comfortable and truly be free. My eloquence carried the day, and I knew that the vote would be in my favor.

And then, everything changed.

As I took my seat to wait for the vote to be called, I saw Napoleon stand up. He gave me an odd glance from the corner of his eyes, then let out the most terrible whimpering sound I have ever heard. All of a sudden the ground shook, and a loud baying noise could be heard coming from outside. Then, all of a sudden, nine huge dogs burst into the Meeting room growling and barking! They wore brass-studded collars and I immediately could tell they had been bred for one purpose: to be vicious.
As soon as they entered and saw me, they lunged straight towards me. Luckily my superior reflexes paid off, and I was scampering on all fours straight into the open air. I bolted for the long pasture, and finally could see the road up ahead. Then, all of a sudden, a rock appeared that I hadn't seen before, and I tripped! Not the time for clumsiness! I peered behind me almost a second too late for I was met by the sight of a huge dog's mouth! Up again, I pushed as much speed as I could out of my legs. I could feel the hot breath of the dogs behind me, and I could smell their dripping saliva as they grew hungry for a nice bacon dinner. Not today! One dog made a lunge for my tail, but I pushed every ounce of speed I had, and finally could see my salvation ahead. With only a few inches to spare, I was through a hole in the hedge.

How did this happen? Wasn't I just awarded Animal Hero, First Class? And now, betrayal? Surely my other comrades won't stand for this! Surely at least Squealer will come for me, if not Minimus!
I now see that Napoleon had been planning this power shift for some time. Forcing me, ever so slightly, into the outside so that when the time was right he could lock the door.

So, here I lay, lost somewhere outside of Manor Farm between it and Foxwood. I've found a dry spot on the ground underneath some trees, and I plan to sleep here for a couple nights while I pull my thoughts together.

I fear Animal Farm is in for its darkest days.

Snowball

The Meeting in the Barn

I am so inspired!

Tonight's meeting that Major called in the barn ended up being so life changing! He spoke with such majesty and brilliance! But even more amazing- the idea he suggests!

I was one of the first to enter the barn, just after the dogs. We sat down and watched Major intently. There he stood- on a raised platform with a beam of lantern light that made his contour stand out. Major is by far the most majestic of all us animals on Manor Farm.

The next hour was like a blur of the best kind. Major began weaving a picture of the farm as it is today, and told all of us about realizations he's been having lately. He spoke with the authority of an animal that has experienced much, and seen more. His voice reverberated off of the walls like a booming trumpet. Then, Major spoke of his dream. A wonderful world void of humans where animals can roam free- this was more then just a dream he said.
I looked around the room, first at the other pigs. Squealer and Napoleon sat hushed, eyes gleaming while they looked at Major. Minimus, I could tell, was already thinking of songs to sing about this night. Next I looked at the horses: Boxer stood still, all attention focused towards the stage. His coat gleamed in the light, and his muscles flexed as if in agreement with all Major had to say. Next to him, Clover. She was breathing fast, entertaining thoughts of running wild without a master to whip her. Mollie had been the last animal to arrive in the barn. I personally think she is rather naive and foolish, and I could tell that as Major spoke, she held little interest. She seemed more interested in making sure her ribbons were all on straight.

I'm not sure how long Major spoke for- but I do remember the visions that my mind went in and out of. I see now how Jones (for I will no longer call him "Master") has crippled our minds and held our potential at bay. "Rebellion!" spoke Major,

"I do not know when that Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle until it is victorious."

I knew Major was right. These humans, these evil beings that stalked the Earth, needed to be cast off! We needed to end the tyranny which the humans had placed us under for so long!

Major went on to tell us about his dream. A song, he said, had come back to him. A song? These had never held much interest for me. Minimus was a poet and composer himself, but none of his works had ever added up to much in my mind.
But Major seemed to think this song held much importance.
Here's the first two verses:

Beasts of England, Beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the Golden future time.

Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'er thrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.

By the third verse, I found myself joining in humming the tune. By the end of the song, nearly everyone had found the melody and rhythm. We all began the song, and after a couple attempts, were finally able to arrange the words.
We all sang in the fashion we knew, and O was it glorious! The sheep's bleats accompanied all of us pigs' squeals, which went in perfect harmony with the neigh's that the horses had to offer. Something was awoken in each of us: a desire to be free. We had always had that desire buried deep, but this new realization that it might actually be possible spurred the greatest kind of passion in our souls.
Then, all of a sudden BANG! A large noise and wood splinters erupted all around us. Jones had unleashed his terrible Killer Stick on us! We all scattered to our appropriate sleeping quarters, and everybody was silent all in a moment.

But we all knew what had just happened, and I for one am inspired to Rebel against the tyranny of Jones.

Snowball