A little bundle of shivers slowly shuffled toward the barn. He was cold and miserable, and filthier than ever. Benjamin the donkey was one of the remaining few animals in the Manor Farm who still remembered the long-lost days of the Rebellion. Years came and fled, animals lived, and what remained was he and the memories.

Napoleon, Mollie, and Boxer had slowly sunk into oblivion. Old Major, reduced to a mеre statue in the yard, his wisе words and teachings long since forgotten. The Rebellion, is a distant past, a tale told by parents.

The vile wind got stronger and stronger, tugging at old Benjamin’s mane. But he continued to trudge forward. He was five years past his retirement age. But practically no animal could ever retire, and as usual, the vultures, the ‘brain workers’ were the exceptions. In Napoleon’s days the ‘After Retirement Program’ was introduced, which continues to this day. It was said that the program was ‘entirely voluntary’, but any animal refusing to lend a paw would have his daily rations cut off.

That morning, word got around that Comrade Minimus had called for a meeting. So, by evening all the animals had assembled inside the barn. The pigeons and chickens perched on the window sills, while the ducks snuggled between the four cart horses for warmth. The cows and sheep were sitting in front of the door, chewing cud, barely aware that they were blocking the way of dozens of animals. At the other end of the barn, Minimus, a middle-aged porker was standing on the sort of raised platform. Yes, he was standing. Even with his failing eyesight, Benjamin could see that Minimus was standing on his stubby hind legs, a coat belonging to Mr. Jones draped over his massive bulk, and a pipe hanging loosely from his snout.

Back in Napoleon’s days, Minimus had been a gifted poet and Napoleon’s personal chronicler. But it doesn’t take much to drop a pen and pick up a dagger, and after Napoleon died of a stroke, Minimus started showing his true colors. He was surrounded by a semi-circle of twelve rather fierce-looking dogs led by a black-skinned pig named Bruce. Bruce is the newest pig and he walks on two legs like humans. When he saw that all the animals were present, and waiting patiently, Minimus cleared his throat and began.

“Comrades, the time has come that you should learn the truth. A truth so bitter and vile but nonetheless the truth…” There was an ominous pause.

“Let’s face it: Late Comrade Napoleon… was a TRAITOR!”

An audible gasp was heard from the audience. Even the other animals, Ben the cart horse had trouble believing the words. With his ears set back, he shook his forelocks and tried to think of something intelligent to say. To the animals, Napoleon was the unquestionable god. It was unthinkable that anyone could openly denounce him, even the current leader. Snowball appeared in the scene.

“Yes comrades, he had been a traitor! If you think about it you will find out that his days were no better than those of Jones’. The promise remained a promise, never for once becoming a reality. Oh, how hard you toiled in the hayfields, how hard you toiled for building the windmill, but he did little more than snatch away your hard-won rewards. If anyone dared to raise his voice against the evil, then the brave voice was silenced with ease. Say, comrades, did you overthrow the tyranny of the human race for seeing this day?”

The other animals who had great difficulty in thinking anything out by themselves, believed what was spoon-fed to them. They let out a tremendous cry of indignation.

“Did Old Major dream of this dreadful place?!! CERTAINLY NOT! Were Napoleon and Mr. Pilkington with their men and pigs got killed by dogs?!!? YES! Because of Tamino joining the Avian Animal Side, me and Squealer telling Napoleon to be killed with Mr. Pilkington and his pigs and men. Napoleon is dead because of me and Tamino!! So comrades, let’s reduce the last reminder of that much-dreaded regime to ashes.
Come on comrades, follow me!”

Slowly the animals trickled out of the barn and assembled in the yard. Very few of them had known about Napoleon’s villainy. But Minimus was a clever talker along with Snowball, Benjamin thought, and besides the twelve beasts bared their teeth so menacingly, the animals could do little more than accept it.

A bonfire was lit in the yard. Minimus and Snowball brought down the portrait of Napoleon from the windmill’s wall and flung it into the flames. Taka took over England causing all the animals to let out an uproarious cheer, as the flames licked through the evil face. Some of the animals expected the long-abolished “Beasts of England” to be sung once again. But to their dismay, the sheep let out a tremendous bleating of, “Four legs good. Two legs BETTER! Four legs good. Two legs BETTER!” Which went on for an hour or so before the animals headed back for their individual stalls, pens, and coops. While trotting towards his stall, Benjamin wondered how fast people can change. Only months ago he had seen Minimus sobbing unashamedly beside Napoleon’s grave. And now he was there, denouncing the very boar.
Benjamin was lost in thoughts when he caught himself lying awake in a thatch of hay. He was thinking about a time when he was not that old, a time when his muzzle was a lot less grayer than it was now, a time before the rise of Minimus. Tamino watched carefully and perched quietly.