I start my journal today as we await the death of Old Major.
Just an hour ago, the old pig had us gathered around for an apparently important meeting. We all had wondered what it was about. What was so important about this dream of his he had evidentally had only the previous night? Every animal on the farm, even the crows and the mice, were there, everyone getting settled, awaiting for the meeting to start. I grew apprihensive at the slowness of the entire thing. It took an agonizingly long amount of time (to me, at least), but finally, after I thought I'd go insane with the wait, Old Major speaks. He calls us his Commrads .
He kicks it off by talking about how his death draws near, and I could already feel the coldness of its touch lingering about the room. The pig continues, talking about how he knows of the nature of life. He talks about the labor and cruelties laid on animals by man. He talks of rebellion.
His speech was so... so compelling. So inspiring. No, that word doesn't belong there, it's a disgrace to the word. He was just... it was hard not to listen and hand onto every word that was said. There was a flow that I still don't understand. The song he and everyone else eventually sung dosen't compare to his charisma. Oh, the song. Beasts of England it was called. I remember specifically closing my eyes as the pig sung it. I felt almost relaxed, but I wasn't. I soon realized the deeper and possibly darker intentions the song had. It was hypnotic. The other animals soon joined in, singing loudly. Mr. Jones shot a gun shot as a warning for all of us to shut up. I watched as all the other animals scattered and quickly lay down to sleep, but I was remained awake. I had already been a well way away from the barn. I did not sing.
Today, I was aware.