![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
IC writing challenge
Aug. 3rd, 2006 08:27 pmOnce upon a time there was a little piglet, pure of scent and sharp of wit, but a runt, a dag, whatever you might call her. And as a dag she was marked a mistake, and sentenced to spend her life as a porker, so that her inferiorities need not be passed on. They named her from the ash, the useless remnants of wood after it has served any useful purpose, and so they called her Cinder.
Every day she was the butt of jokes and poor humour, and forced to perform unpleasant tasks of dung removal for the comfort and benefit of her forty eight step-brothers and step-sisters. And through the days she became more and more depressed, and felt her worthlessness through her bones. But pure at heart, she found friendship among the small animals that shared their habitat.
And it was known among the farm one day that a boar was to come, to seek a mate. A fine, muscular creature, escaped from the fate that befalls surplus boars and making his way across the county. It was a day for each of the sows to look their most fertile and capable of fine breeding.
But rumour passed by the birds that the boar was an unusual type, pleased to take for his mate a sow sharp of wit, as opposed to merely broad and hormonal. At this, the sows began to worry, for they knew deep down that their heads were full of straw compared with the runt, who had watched the ways of the world whilst confined to her solitude. They made their plans, and decided that when the boar was to pass through, that Cinder must not be in view. After snarling and snapping at her, she retreated to shuffling the dung with her snout, whilst the others lined up to impress.
The boar arrived, swaggering in his self-confidence, as he made his way along the line. He bowed to each sow politely, then asked each a question, whispered into their ear. And each sow replied, then bowed her head as he shook his head and moved on to the next.
He reached the end of the line, the sows behind him fuming with pent-up rage. And when the final sow had given him an unsatisfactory answer, he turned back.
"I may be willing to take one of you as a second wife, if you can find a sow who will answer my question to my requirements."
And so Cinder was brought forward, for even as a second, a boar such as he was a good catch. And trembling with nervousness she stood before him as he leaned down and whispered to her.
"Why?"
The sows held their breaths, having tried between them the answers that they were the most fertile, the most beautiful, the one with the sweetest scent. That they would bear him fine piglets. Cinder considered.
"Because if you do not choose me, you will have to walk another four miles to the next farm."
The boar chuckled, and having decided that she had sufficient fertility, despite her stature, he took her as his mate. And they had many piglets.
The middle.
Every day she was the butt of jokes and poor humour, and forced to perform unpleasant tasks of dung removal for the comfort and benefit of her forty eight step-brothers and step-sisters. And through the days she became more and more depressed, and felt her worthlessness through her bones. But pure at heart, she found friendship among the small animals that shared their habitat.
And it was known among the farm one day that a boar was to come, to seek a mate. A fine, muscular creature, escaped from the fate that befalls surplus boars and making his way across the county. It was a day for each of the sows to look their most fertile and capable of fine breeding.
But rumour passed by the birds that the boar was an unusual type, pleased to take for his mate a sow sharp of wit, as opposed to merely broad and hormonal. At this, the sows began to worry, for they knew deep down that their heads were full of straw compared with the runt, who had watched the ways of the world whilst confined to her solitude. They made their plans, and decided that when the boar was to pass through, that Cinder must not be in view. After snarling and snapping at her, she retreated to shuffling the dung with her snout, whilst the others lined up to impress.
The boar arrived, swaggering in his self-confidence, as he made his way along the line. He bowed to each sow politely, then asked each a question, whispered into their ear. And each sow replied, then bowed her head as he shook his head and moved on to the next.
He reached the end of the line, the sows behind him fuming with pent-up rage. And when the final sow had given him an unsatisfactory answer, he turned back.
"I may be willing to take one of you as a second wife, if you can find a sow who will answer my question to my requirements."
And so Cinder was brought forward, for even as a second, a boar such as he was a good catch. And trembling with nervousness she stood before him as he leaned down and whispered to her.
"Why?"
The sows held their breaths, having tried between them the answers that they were the most fertile, the most beautiful, the one with the sweetest scent. That they would bear him fine piglets. Cinder considered.
"Because if you do not choose me, you will have to walk another four miles to the next farm."
The boar chuckled, and having decided that she had sufficient fertility, despite her stature, he took her as his mate. And they had many piglets.
The middle.
