The Smacked Donkey

Living in the driving rain, dragged by humanity into unending toil, the little donkey dreamt of grass and hay and of sun on his back. Only, he did not know what these things were. He had only heard tell of them in passing from other donkeys and mules as they carted their heavy loads in from the world outside those city walls. And so, when he dreamt of grass he pictured it as being somewhat like the delicious biscuit a curious girl had once slipped him as he stood, shackled and waiting, outside the builders' yard. And when he dreamt of hay, a 'comforting substance to lay upon at nights', he pictured his mother, a warm and comforting memory in the dank solitude of his concrete cell. Sunshine on his back he knew - but only as it made the harshness of the harness so much harsher and the lashes of the driver's stick so much nearer the bones of his aching shoulders. He imagined a warm sun without these two constant sores and it made him happy. For a while.

The donkey was done for another day. Long past dusk already and he closed his eyes in prayer as the ropes and shafts and buckles were removed. The one round his waist gone and he prayed for a friend. The bit from his teeth gone and he prayed for a kind master. The blinkers from his eyes removed and and he prayed for rain to wash his dusty hide. The shafts and catches and brace from his shoulders lifted and he prayed for warmth The brake-manacles from his front legs unclasped and he prayed for biscuits from that curious girl. He'd been hoisting tiles today, each one a shiny red reminder of the hundreds of little footsteps he had had to take between the tile factory kilns and the palace walls where they were needed. The King's daughter was getting married and the King was having a beautiful new house constructed for her and her new prince in the Royal Palace grounds.

Although the little donkey found the task as arduous as any other day's - especially as sparks and heat from the bellows at the tile factory kilns burnt his eyes and delicate nose - he looked forwards to his arrival at the Palace. He had been coming here for nearly a week now, just to the Palace walls, no further. And on the first day he had seen a beautiful snow-white mare stepping briskly up to the palace gates led by a silken halter. Overheard conversation let the little donkey know that this lovely horse was to be a wedding gift for the princess. It was three days later and the little donkey was in love with the horse he had seen but for a moment. He did not know how he would see her again, but he knew that he must and so that night, leaning against the coarse and slimy wall of his cell, he prayed for a miracle.

Now miracles don't come along all too often and the next day was to be no exception. Nor the next. Nor the next. In fact a month was to pass and the new palace was looking fairly complete from where the little donkey was standing, drinking rainwater from a tarpaulin laid over some building materials. The whole month had done nothing for the little donkey's dreams but trample on them. Worryingnly the month's carting of over-heavy building materials had also done nothing for the little donkey's health and he had developed a cough deep in his lungs that shook his very ribs in agony every single time. As the water in the puddle on the tarpaulin tasted extremely dusty he was debating whether to end his drinking now and risk dehydration or to keep going and risk a tummy bug. He had just decided to keep going as the day was so very dry, when he saw the white horse form all those long weeks ago riding forth from the Palace gates bestrode by the princess. He didn't notice the princess' guard flanking her, two armoured riders on black stallions on both sides, and nor did he heed the brake shackles around his front legs. With an involuntary leap of his lonely heart the little donkey tried to run towards this graceful beauty before him. Only to stumble and fall. He knew, before his driver did, that his right foreleg was sprained. And he knew right away what his fate would be. He let out a mighty roar of pain for his life so short and so evil, which roar became a fit of coughing enough to shake his donkey head loose. The last thing he saw as he slipped willingly into the arms of oblivion was the princess riding swiftly towards him on the most beautiful horse in all the world

It was hours later, as the late afternoon sun winked behind the lowest of the branches in the olive trees of the Palace garden and the layers of the clouds in the sky could be distinguished by shadow and perspective, the little donkey awoke. He was lying on the most luxuriously bouncey material he had ever lain upon, in the warmth and dry protection of a terrific stables. Hay! Best of all, gazing down at him with eyes behind lashes like palm-fronds, was The White Mare!

"Hello."

..."Hello." Shame and awkwardness at his shabby condition flushed throughout the little donkey and it was several minutes before he could even bring his eyes around again to meet her gaze. The horse introduced herself and explained what had happened. The princess, hearing the little donkey's cry of pain and seeing his subsequent fitting, had rushed over to offer her assistance. The donkey's cruel owner had appologized for upsetting the princess' delicate sensibilities and was all for cutting the donkey's throat there and then. The princess, a lover of animals high and low, had protested at this and bade her escort pay the man handsomely in exchange for the little donkey, broken as he was. A cart had been called and the poor little donkey was carried to the open-fronted stable to rest and recuperate.

It seemed to the little donkey that all of his prayers had been answered when yet another miracle took place. The white mare, who was as charming as she was graceful, told the little donkey that although this was her stable she had been very lonely there this past month and she would be very grateful should the little donkey deign to be her stablemate for as long as it so should please him.

Well! From there on things went from very good to even better. The princess got married to her prince charming and the new palace was completed in time. The little donkey recovered his health and, when he wasn't grazing in the palace gardens, trotted out with the Royal Entourage into the meadows and slow-rolling hills of the countryside without the city walls. Never again was he brake-shackled nor roughly burdened nor beaten with aught.

The princess, who had never before realised the wicked treatment of working animals in her kingdom petitioned her father to write new laws to protect the rights of his citizens whether tgwo legged or four. And the little donkey was ever after seen as something of a hero by all those other workhorses still in the employ of local businessmen for lightening their load.

The donkey was also much admired by his constant companion the thrilling white mare. But that is for another story.