Long, Epic Peace
At the back of someone’s garden, under an overturned wheelless barrow, lived a little piece of Peace that dreamt of being long and epic.
Since any piece of Peace is by nature an orphan, and a single child by default, it had no one to ask how its dream could be fulfilled. Even the scummiest outcast has a backing group of sorts; even the scurviest midden-rat has a formidable network, but a piece of Peace is on its own.
So the little piece of Peace decided to bring its quest before the municipal authorities. The stairs were many, long and steep. The counters and desks were high and intimidating.
“Please, I want to be long and epic.”
“Only war has the stamina to be long. Only suffering has the moral right to be epic.”
The little piece of Peace climbed down the stairs and shuffled home to its shelter under the barrow. At night, when all was dark, it went out again, broke into a DIY centre and stole a five-litre bucket of red paint.
Jane Røken lives in Denmark, on the interface between hedgerows and barley fields. She is fond of old tractors, garden sheds, scarecrows and other stuff that, in the due course of time, will ripen into something else. Her writings have appeared in many very different places, mostly online.