Wednesday, 3 December 2014

The pig.

As the midday sun rose high over the farm Simon the pig settled into his eleventh mud wallow. Life was good for Simon. He had a rosy pink snout that twitched as he sniffed, and small eyes that were sharp and inquisitive. He had patches of thick, coarse hair which stuck out from his face in tufts. Nosy by nature, Simon always wanted to know what was going on around him. He was the best pig because he was well trained.

The farm was a long way from the city. It was not often that the farm was quiet.The water tanks stood to attention  like three rotund guards.The rolling hills caught the long shadow of the late afternoon sun.There were tidy packed bales of hay, that rested in a neat array. There was an old barn that was home, comforting cosy and always busy with its inhabitants. The farm was down a long muddy track far away from the main highway. For nearly one hundred years the farm had been nestled on the side of the hill next to the babbling creek.

worried concentration made the pig frown in earnest.The pigs hooves tried to tread the water, but he could hardly stay afloat.The pig jumped in the water to have a swim. turquoise water lapped at the pig's snout.panic was setting in as he appeared unable to close the gap to land. When the pig reached land he walked to the farm as fast as he can to have a shower.

The end.

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