Friday 8 February 2013

250 Words: Improv, aka Ramblings

Lamby the lamb lived by the sea but 100 metres above it in a beautiful green field that ended abruptly at the top of a white cliff.  The young lamb dreamed of getting her hooves wet on the beach far below the pastures it lived on, of running about in the surf and seeing if her woolly middle would help her float in deeper waters.  

Through long days and nights Lamby would dream of sailing out to sea on a raft, its mast flying a flag bearing the picture of a sheep.  Across the world Lamby would sail, meeting sheep in other lands and having adventures in ports and coves, fighting the pirate sheep dogs that longed to control the movement of the sheep herds but couldn’t because Lamby stood bravely in the way.

Alas, though, what can one little sheep do but plunge to her death in the attempt when there is no path from the field to the beach.  And so Lamby grew sad and old because there is no hope in life.  Year after year Lamby was given to the rams and gave birth to many young lambs who dreamed too of the beach below the field.  The closest they ever got was the chemical dip they were routinely forced into.  

Instead, like Lamby, they saw out their days becoming more and more weary each time their coat was roughly hewn.  Their eyes clouding until the inevitable finally occurred and they succumbed to the coldest of air.

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