100-Word Fiction: ‘The Frogs’

Who said there are no poets any more?

There they are, croaking their message in the lake, evading imminent disaster. There they go, to return safely after ten whole days into the rubble and dust. But no one will have listened. Dionysus was waylaid. Aeschylus and Euripedes dead and bickering. Even Aristophanes only hums a distant tune. To hell and back without a hope.

But this is Italy, not Greece. The frogs are toads now, too. The court jester is king. He tells the townsfolk to take a holiday while the walls crumble.

No one hears the poetry of toads.

Advertisements

Author: MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. 'Scarecrow', a debut collection of poetry is available now from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s