My photo
I am a writer of novels, plays and film scripts. I live in Manchester England with my partner Andy and our teenage son Jack. Andy and I started my Newsletter Raw Meat and began publishing with Rawprintz in 1999 to showcase my work. Some of you may be confused by my continual references to Ziggy, that’s my wheelchair! Both Andy and I are writers. I’ve recently lost my sight – hence the continual reference to my being confused! Thanks for visiting.

My Comrades...


Writer's Island Courage II

The prompt at Writer's Island this week is Courage.


As he wandered along the Yellow Brick falling to the ground at every other step, the scarecrow saw a magnificent lion advancing slowly towards him without making a sound. The scarecrow felt a little uneasy at this silence, for he expected such a splendid creature to make some sort of roar or something… but this silence was quite un-nerving. The scarecrow picked himself up when he came face to face with the lion and asked him some what timidly…

“Don’t I recognise you? Aren’t you searching for a heart - for courage?” The lion smiled very vaguely, shaking his beautiful golden hairdo from side to side so that his mane glinted gently in the sunshine. When he answered, the words came vibrating from his throat, in a great rumbling vibration of energy.

“I’m afraid you’re mixing me up with someone else… some other lion, perhaps a more courageous one than me. For I’m a quite different creature… a suffering lion, a sacrificial lion with religious undertones - need I say more?” The lion stared directly into the scarecrows painted eyes, raising his fierce eyebrows very slightly. “Surely you’ve read the book I come from… you’re into children’s fiction aren’t you?”

The scarecrow shook his cloth head firmly, although he didn’t feel at all firm.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you. I understand nothing about religious undertones, for I’ve got no brain have I??”

“No… sorry, I forgot.” Gently the lion raised a great paw and patted the scarecrow apologetically on the arm. He almost crushed the scarecrow’s fabric body as he did so with his almighty strength. “But you must have heard of my story somewhere… for I step out of fiction into religion… a sort of mixture of fictional characters against a real background. I’m talking about the bible - Christianity, call it what you will. And I’ve wandered out of that into children’s fiction… there I become Aslan, the most courageous and tragic lion you’ve ever heard of. You must have heard of me.”

Still the scarecrow stared blankly at the great lion and continued to shake his stupid cloth head. It seemed to both of them there was nothing more to be said.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for visiting please leave a comment.