Hey there, and welcome back to Animal Farm: The Novelization. Looks like we're getting three chapters loaded in one day. I've already written these down ahead of time. But after this, I might probably take a little break and wait to upload some more again.

I had only noticed before I wrote this that this is my second Animal Farm Fanfic. I wrote one over ten years ago about things to annoy the characters of Animal Farm. Since it was actually against the rules to just make a list out of a story, I might plan on remaking it and making chapters on how to annoy the characters.

But back to this story.

Uploading Date: October 21, 2021

Enjoy!


Chapter 3: The Rebellion

The cries of a sorrowful rooster were what had awakened the animals three days later. Sam was one of the few who had joined a patrol to see what had happened at the barn. One of the head roosters was walking out of the barn, his head hanging low when he noticed the animals arriving.

"It's Old Major," said the rooster as they approached him, shedding tears. "He died during the night."

He led them over to the stall that Old Major had spent his days and nights in. In the stall lay the body of the old pig, who looked as if he had died in his sleep.

So the word had spread out around the farm that Old Major was dead. When they got to his body, they buried him at the foot of the orchard. Many animals were mourning the loss of the old boar; even some of the birds that flew around the farm - like sparrows and swallows - joined them.

"Comrades." It was Snowball who had spoken, and the animals turned to listen to him. Snowball was a lively Large White pig, quick in speech and clever. "There are no rewards after death. There is only the here and now. Though we have suffered a deep and personal loss, we must push on and work to make our lives better. It is what Old Major would want."

"Today, we must remember that Old Major died for all of us," added Napoleon. He was a big fierce-looking Berkshire boar with a reputation of getting his way while not saying his thoughts out loud, and he had a more formidable character than Snowball. "We have a sacred duty to him. We must carry on in his place and do whatever it takes to make his dream come true."

"But what can we do?" asked Boxer.

"Revolution!" came Napoleon's answer. "One day, Jones will be done for. Tyrants will pay for what they've done."

...

So during the next three months, there was much secret activity. Major's speech had made the more intelligent animals on the farm a new look at life. They didn't know when this Rebellion would happen, no reason for thinking that it would happen while they were alive, but they saw it as their duty to be prepared. Naturally, the job of teaching the other animals fell upon the pigs, who were regarded as the smartest animals on the farm.

The two leaders of these pigs were Snowball and Napoleon, whom Mr. Jones was going to sell. All other pigs were porkers, bred for their meat. The most prominent porker was a small fat pig named Squealer. Rather fat for a red Tamworth pig, he had round cheeks, bright eyes, spry feet, and a shrill voice. He was a very clever talker, and whenever he argued something, he would often hop from side to side and whisk his tail, which was pretty persuasive. It was also said that he could make animals believe that black was white or white was black.

These three pigs had crafted Major's teachings into a complete belief system, which they called "Animalism". Several nights a week, after Mr. Jones went to sleep, they would hold secret meetings in the barn and explain Animalism's beliefs to the other animals. But they were met with a lot of stupidity and indifference at the start.

"We love Master Jones," droned one of the sheep, and others chanted the same until someone had to tell them to shut up. That animal was the ram of the flock, who at least didn't repeat everything his fellow sheep did.

"Mr. Jones also feeds us," said one of the hens. "If he doesn't feed us, we will all starve to death."

"Why should we care what happens if we are all dead?" a goose grumbled in reply.

Boxer furrowed his brow before lifting his large head. "One question bothers me," he said. "Old Major said that the revolution would happen anyway. So what difference would it make if we prepare for it?"

"Comrades, comrades!" Snowball called, trying to bring calm to the meeting. "Listen to yourselves! Is this what Old Major would have wanted to hear you say?"

The only animal not interested in the rebellion at all was Benjamin. "In summer, there are the heat and flies," he remarked to nearby animals who would listen. "In winter, there is the cold and snow. There's never enough to eat, and there is always work; I was always working before any of you were born, and I'll keep working after you're all dead. Donkeys live a long time, you know. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey."

"You don't believe that the rebellion will happen?" asked Boxer.

"Everything happens sooner or later," replied Benjamin. "On the other hand, nothing changes...except names."

As some of the noise died down, Snowball waited for another question to pop up. That came in the form of Mollie, who approached the platform where Old Major once stood upon. "Excuse me, Snowball?" she asked. "Will there still be sugar after the rebellion?"

Snowball shook his head. "No," he said bluntly. "We have no tools for making sugar on this farm. Besides, what good does sugar do for a horse? You can have all the hay you can eat."

"And don't you know that sugar is bad for your health?" added Squealer. "All of those ingredients would be disgraceful for a useful and graceful body like yours."

"What about ribbons then?" Mollie continued, ignoring Squealer. "Can I still wear them?"

"No," repeated Snowball, just as blunt as his previous answer. "Those ribbons you cherish count as clothing. Old Major had said that no animal shall wear clothes. They are a symbol of our slavery to humans. Can you not see that liberty is worth more than ribbons?"

Mollie nodded, but she did not look convinced.

"Comrade Snowball is right," said Boxer. "We horses don't need sugar. Hay and oats are my meal. As for ribbons and hats, I will never wear one again."

The pigs nodded in agreement. It was good to see that Boxer and Clover were talking sense right now. They couldn't think for themselves much, but once they accepted the pigs as their teachers and leaders, they absorbed everything they were told, passing it on to the other animals with simple arguments. They always showed up to the secret meetings and led the singing of "Beasts of England" whenever the meetings ended.

There was even a problem with Moses, the tamed raven that hung around Mr. Jones's farmhouse. Unlike most of the animals on the farm, he didn't mind Mr. Jones because the farmer let him hang around his home.

"Up there, everyone!" called the raven one day, pointing his gray beak up to the heavens. It was a warm cloudy day, and the air felt humid as if it was ready to rain.

"Up where?" asked a sheep.

Moses nodded to the heavens again. "Just beyond the clouds. Do you see it?"

"I only see clouds," said a cow. "Just gray clouds."

"Sugarcandy Mountain!" Moses croaked, flapping a wing to the sky. "Up there, beyond the clouds, lies Sugarcandy Mountain. There, it's Sunday seven days a week, with clover in bloom all season and special treats growing on the hedges. Lump sugar and linseed cake! Every bird's gizzard knows that there's enough food to choke a Glasgow bull! That is," he added with a chuckle, "if he hadn't already died first."

The animals looked up the sky, waiting to see what Sugarcandy Mountain looked like when they would die.

"That'll be enough of that! Break it up!" cried out a pig, marching forward. "Friends, do not listen to Moses. He speaks only nonsense. Sugarcandy Mountain is only a fairy tale."

"But what if it's true?" asked a mother sheep. "I want to know more about Sugarcandy Mountain."

Moses cawed several times in triumph. "Aha! See that, non-believer? She wants to know the truth!"

"That is not the kind of truth an animal should look forward to." Snowball had arrived, looking irritated with the raven. "At least, one built on false hope. We are starting this rebellion so that animals won't have false hope to go back to."

"Now take off before we get one of the dogs to eat you," added the pig who arrived at the scene earlier.

At once, Moses fell from his perch on the post and plunged to the ground. "You land animals are sick!" he gasped with horror, flapping his wings and taking off.

Later in the day, the rain had passed, though there was still some drizzling. The four dogs were taking a walk around the farm buildings before it would rain again. Pinscher was already laying out boundaries for the farmyard, to check and see if humans would dare invade should they take control.

"Do you believe we can overthrow the humans?" asked Bluebell.

"Of course. We can't give up," said Pinscher. "It'll be a better life for all of us once Jones and his men are gone."

Sam padded up to Pinscher. "I wish I can feel the same way. But would we have to kill humans to do it too? It just sounds...cold-blooded."

Pinscher reached a paw out and ruffled the fur on Sam's head. "Hey, it'll warm your blood up. But let me know if you change your mind."

The two females chuckled at the joke, and even Sam couldn't help but grin. It wasn't the funniest joke in the world, but he knew he had to laugh now and then. While he and Pinscher didn't always get along, he had to admire the Rottweiler for his bravery.

A whistle caught the dogs' attention. They left the relative safety of the barnyard and headed to the farmhouse, towards the source of the whistling. When they got there, one of the farmhands was at the entrance to the slaughterhouse next door.

"Jessie! Here, girl!" called the farmhand. He was holding what looked like meat in his hand. When he noticed Sam, he called, "You too, boy. Would you like a treat?"

When the word "treat" reached his ears, Sam perked them up. His owners would often say "treat", and he would come right over. This was no different. He licked his chops and started towards the meat that the man held out.

"Sam, no!" barked Jessie, shoving him away. "You can't eat a friend!"

Sam stepped away from the ribs while Jessie kept barking. "How can you tell if that's a friend?"

"The nose!" yelped Jessie. "Use your nose!"

"She's right, boy. Use your nose," snapped Pinscher. "That meat smells wrong."

Thus, Sam lifted his nose and sniffed. The meat did smell freshly-made, and he did remember that a pig had been taken away for slaughter. He stepped away and stood beside Bluebell, who had looked just as curious as he about the meat.

Pinscher began growling a deep and threatening growl, unnerving the farmhand. He backed away, still clutching the cooked pork, and headed back into the butcher shop.

...

The day of the rebellion finally came on a warm June day. In fact, it came earlier than any animal had predicted. In past years, while Mr. Jones was a hard master, he was a competent farmer back in his day. But lately, after losing money in a lawsuit, he fell into despair and drank too much alcohol. He would often loaf around in an armchair, drinking, reading the newspaper, and feeding Moses bread soaked in beer. His men weren't all saint-like either, the fields were infested with weeds, the buildings needed better roofs, the hedges were untrimmed, and the animals were underfed and abused.

It was on a warm morning that Mr. Jones decided to leave for Derby for a drink. He was running low on whiskey, and he called for the farmhands to come with him and drink with him.

"We haven't fed the animals yet!" protested one farmhand.

"Yeah, and we haven't milked the cows," added another.

Mr. Jones sneered. "You can feed them and milk those cows later, lads. Right now, I need a pint!"

So the men piled into the car and started the engine. As one unit by the barn, the animals watched the car pull out from its parking spot and roll on out of the driveway.

"Where are they going?" asked Sam, licking his chops. "We haven't eaten today."

"We need milking!" whined one of the cows.

"They're going to go drinking themselves happy, leaving us to starve," growled Napoleon.

Sam watched Jessie run out after the departing vehicle, barking and trying to get them to come back. The men did nothing to get out and heed her barking; in fact, they only jeered at her and pointed their fingers at her. Jessie gave up once the vehicle started disappearing down the road, and she trotted back to the other animals.

"I'm really hungry," Mollie whinnied gloomily.

"You'll just have to wait then," Benjamin answered cynically.

Boxer's reaction, however, was more sympathetic. He gently gave Mollie a gentle nuzzle to cheer her up. Sam guessed that Boxer must have been hungrier than any animal on the farm due to working the hardest of them all, thus making it rather justified if he were a bit irritable. But having enough patience to comfort the others was enough to warm anyone's heart.

Hours later, Mr. Jones and his men had finally returned from their day of drinking. The car horn honked, and the animals looked up. It was safe to say that this was the only time that they were happy to see Jones come back.

"Will he feed us now?" whispered a hen.

"I hope so," replied Muriel. "I'm so hungry, I can eat anything, even cans."

The men were climbing out of the car and heading towards the house. It was only then that one of the farmhands turned his attention to the animals, still standing at the gate and still waiting for food.

"What about the animals?" he asked Jones before they could go inside.

Jones looked behind him at the waiting animals. "Let them rot," was all he said. "Now let's get some more drinks."

And with that, he and his fellow humans headed into the farmhouse. That was when any hope of Jones caring for them quickly faded away, replaced by sorrow and rage.

"He's not going to feed us!" wailed a lamb.

"We're going to starve!" squawked one of the hens.

"We won't starve if we help ourselves," declared Snowball, stepping to the front of the line of animals. "We're going to eat, whether Jones like it or not! Boxer, can you knock the gate open?"

Boxer opened the gate and let the other animals file out past him. "I believe I can. I'll give it a try."

"Just don't make too much noise," muttered Benjamin.

Muriel headed to the window to keep a lookout for the humans. In the meantime, the animals headed towards the storage shed, 'Beasts of England' on their lips and beaks. One of the cows decided to try and stab at the shed doors with her horns, and Boxer even attempted to charge. With a crash, the doors broke into pieces and fell with a bang, and the food was clear for the taking: vegetables like carrots and corn, fruit like apples and pears, grain, hay, and biscuits and so much more.

With cries of joy, the animals sprang upon the food. The pigs gobbled up some grain, the cows and sheep and horses grazed on the straw and hay, the dogs scarfed down biscuits, and the birds nibbled at the corn and grain. Even the rats and mice helped themselves when they scurried out from the shadows, just when the cat was out of the way.

While Muriel had been at the window, she kept an eye out on Jones, who was talking with his men. It was when the animals had kicked down the storage door did they perk up, already going to get the whips from the wall. That was when Muriel clambered down from the boxes and started running to the storage shed.

"Everyone! Everyone, stop eating!" the old goat bleated. "The humans are coming! Run!"

The animals stopped eating and looked up to where she was standing. Before anyone could say anything, something savagely kicked at Muriel, making her bleat in pain and hobble away. Jones had arrived just in time, backed by several men who carried whips. With scowls on their faces, they lashed their whips out at the animals with cruelty.

This was more than the hungry animals could bear. As if they were one animal, they flung themselves at the humans, kicking and butting and biting at any part of them that they could reach. Jones and his men suddenly found themselves being rammed and kicked on all sides. After years of abuse, the animals had turned on their neglectful and often cruel masters.

The cows and sheep charged and butted, and the birds pecked and scratched at their faces. Muriel tried her best to get back at the one who kicked her by jabbing him with her horns. Snowball and Napoleon led the other pigs into the charge as well, biting and ramming the men with their full weight. The four dogs surged as one and launched their assault, Sam biting at the men's legs while the bigger dogs tackled and snapped.

"Don't give them time to regroup!" Snowball squealed over the noise.

"Seize the day!" Napoleon roared as well.

Mrs. Jones had looked out the bedroom window to see what was going on. When she saw this, she flung her belongings into a carpet bag and ran out of the house, towards the car that Mr. Jones and his men were getting in. The animals followed them to the car, not giving up the chase. Pinscher jumped onto the hood of the car, barking fiercely, and Benjamin kicked at the car doors while Mr. Jones tried starting the car. Boxer reared up and smashed the windshield with his massive hooves, the glass cracking until it completely shattered.

Finally, the car was starting. It backed up while revealing the damage that the animals had done to it and pulled through the driveway. Moses flapped after them, croaking and cawing, his black plumage blending in with the night sky.

For the first few minutes, the animals could hardly believe what they had done. Then someone shouted, "WE'VE DONE IT!", and a cheer of victory and joy erupted from the animals' throats. Their first act was to gallop around the farm boundaries together as if to make sure that no human being was hiding anywhere upon it.

When that was done, Napoleon said, "Comrades! Let us now rid ourselves of the remnants of Jones's hateful reign!"

"Indeed!" Snowball said. "Let us destroy all that remains of our times of suffering!"

The animals ran to the farm buildings, knocking down the stables' harness room with help from Boxer and the only bull on the farm. They took everything from inside the room and brought them out: bits, nose rings, dog chains, knives used to castrate pigs and lambs, everything. Once outside, they were flung down the well, bringing happiness to the mothers of the farm; their children's future as fathers was finally set in stone.

Everything else - reins, halters, blinkers, collars, nosebags, and whips - were piled into the barnyard and set on fire. All the animals gathered around the bonfire and cheered when the whips went up in flames, singing Beasts of England several times over. Food was passed around, the animals eating again until their bellies were full.

"Comrades," Snowball began his speech, "this is a celebration for us all. The Rebellion has happened, and Jones has been exiled from the farm. We will sleep well tonight, and tomorrow will be the start of a great and glorious future! We are all free!"

The animals began cheering, singing some more before retiring for the night. Snowball had decided to settle himself in the stall that Old Major had rested in before. Never before had the straw felt softer. But no one noticed a rather nasty look that Napoleon had given Snowball.

"What'll we do about him?" whispered Squealer.

"Just wait and see," muttered Napoleon. Then the two male pigs yawned and settled in the straw, ready to start their new lives as free animals.

To be continued...