BOXER'S JOURNAL ENTRY
To my dear comrades in Animal Farm,
I write to you in to land far, far away from Willingdon and perhaps even England. I have no words to describe such a place like this. Though, I assure you that this land is no Sugar Candy Mountain. I feel as if I am nothing as I float across the sky. Clouds are not as what I thought they were, ample and fluffy. They just pass through my hooves as I reach for them. Or perhaps it is I that is the untouchable one. I am afraid I have lost the ability to touch anything nowadays; my hooves just go pass them. My memory of my death is a blurry and vague one. After wildly kicking the van door repeatedly, I decided to calm down a bit. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought you all were crying for me to run away. I think I am surely mistaken, now thinking back, for you all must just have been crying your farewells to me. Our leader, Napoleon and the respected pigs must have sacrificed a lot just to get me to the hospital and I was just being ungrateful. After escorting me none to gently out of the van, my doctor led me to a hay stall with many other horses. Though all of the horses either looked very sick or old, I was the first one to be treated by the doctor. How generous of them to have quarters just for animals. The doctor then took out a piece of red chalk and marked my forehead with a large "X." My eyes were then covered with a black blindfold and my ears seemed to pick up a scraping noise nearby. Our caring comrade, Squealor had told me my chance of death due to my condition was really high despite the doctor's excellent remedies, but I am glad I was some help to the pigs and our beloved leader, Napoleon, in the end. That is about all I know about my death, but looking from above, I can see you all working hard and wish you the best of luck. It believe you all are grateful for the pigs are sacrificing a lot for us everyday.
I write to you in to land far, far away from Willingdon and perhaps even England. I have no words to describe such a place like this. Though, I assure you that this land is no Sugar Candy Mountain. I feel as if I am nothing as I float across the sky. Clouds are not as what I thought they were, ample and fluffy. They just pass through my hooves as I reach for them. Or perhaps it is I that is the untouchable one. I am afraid I have lost the ability to touch anything nowadays; my hooves just go pass them. My memory of my death is a blurry and vague one. After wildly kicking the van door repeatedly, I decided to calm down a bit. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought you all were crying for me to run away. I think I am surely mistaken, now thinking back, for you all must just have been crying your farewells to me. Our leader, Napoleon and the respected pigs must have sacrificed a lot just to get me to the hospital and I was just being ungrateful. After escorting me none to gently out of the van, my doctor led me to a hay stall with many other horses. Though all of the horses either looked very sick or old, I was the first one to be treated by the doctor. How generous of them to have quarters just for animals. The doctor then took out a piece of red chalk and marked my forehead with a large "X." My eyes were then covered with a black blindfold and my ears seemed to pick up a scraping noise nearby. Our caring comrade, Squealor had told me my chance of death due to my condition was really high despite the doctor's excellent remedies, but I am glad I was some help to the pigs and our beloved leader, Napoleon, in the end. That is about all I know about my death, but looking from above, I can see you all working hard and wish you the best of luck. It believe you all are grateful for the pigs are sacrificing a lot for us everyday.