I Think I Can…
a part of the Imagà Imaginings project on Chalkboard
Little brown pig never had a name. That was no matter to him. He spent his days wandering the streets of Peru, ever since he escaped the farmer.
He had never felt better.
Except, he wanted to fly.
Every day he would practice, sure that if he tried hard enough, he’d do it.
He would get up at dawn, and run down the long hill of market street while the merchants were putting out their wares for the day. They’d always laugh at the crazy little pig, tearing down that street like he’d just been hit with a hot poker…
That was no matter to him. He ran and ran and oinked all the way down, and right before he got to the bottom of the street, he’d leap…squealing triumphantly while imagining his little brown pig wings sprouting, and swooping him up and off the pier. He knew it would happen this time…
…and he’d fall. Every time.
Bruised, mostly in ego, he’d pick himself up and begin the slow walk back up the street, and the merchants would laugh at him yet again. Sometimes one would be kind enough to toss him an apple.
On the 108th morning of his learning how to fly (because a pig in training must keep track of these things), little brown pig felt less than inspired.
Still, he knew that to learn anything, you had to practice. Every day.
No matter what. He got up from his little hay bed in the stall he shared with two horses before their farmer woke, and tried to keep him there.
He was no one’s pig but his own now.
Doing a couple of laps around the barn, and some short, quick hops, he tried to pump himself up for his daily leap. Feeling a warm breeze on his face, he began his little sprint down the street once more.
The merchants laughed. That was no matter to him.
This was the day, he thought, picking up speed.
When he was nearly at the bottom, he looked up at a lone gull that was flying overhead. It seemed that this gull was watching him. They locked eyes for a moment, and it was then that little brown pig realized he was out of street and pier, his piggy legs leapt and…
Ka-sploosh! Right into the water he went.
The water was cool, and refreshing. The little brown pig wondered why he did not do this before. Swimming in circles, he was smiling as the gull flew closer.
“Why do you run down this street every day?” the gull asked.
“I’m learning how to fly, of course.”
Even though this particular gull was a Laughing Gull, it still knew how to be polite. It came closer to the pig, until it landed, right there on his back while he swam.
“Wow! That was marvelous! Someday I’ll be able to fly that well too.”
“Little brown pig, do you want to know something I’ve never told anyone before?”
“Sure!” he oinked.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to swim…”
This is a response to the Imagà Imaginings prompt by Michael Stalcup.
