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Writer's pictureGary Hewitt

The art of storytelling

First things first and let me say thank you to Anna, Shilpa, Louise, Benjamin and Roni for your likes, thoughts, and shares on my last post. It’s much appreciated as always and thank you very much. Little was I to know that when I started my blog up again that we’d find ourselves in these very uncertain times.


As I write this post I glance outside to see the sun beaming down and an array of daffodils are smiling back at me. It is important to note that there is much good out there as well as the breeze gentling teasing a rose branch outside. I can also hear the fiction being weaved by the Russian Foreign minister. Honestly, the storytelling is something else and it’s a fine ability to obfuscate the truth in such a way. It’s quite a gift.



The time at present is just after 10am and I will post this later so as to allow a few others to soak in the words I have scribed. It’s a shame that many will just flick by but welcome to the world of being a blogger and a writer. However, there are my diehard supporters who continue to absorb my words, I won’t say wisdom as that’s a bit big headed but just my own feelings and scriptures of this thing called existence.


It was national women's day a couple of sunrises ago and whilst I am happy to support such a venture there is part of me that sees beyond this. It is curious that we have this separation and personally I’d rather see a celebration of the joy of humanity. Before anyone thinks I am running this day down and is readying a pyre for me to inhabit, I really am not. It’s wonderful to celebrate but let’s go bigger and beyond the ideal of separation. We must all embrace the masculine and the feminine in equal measure and remember the higher energies such as angels are often seen as androgynous.



Ah, curious. Do you see that I started that sentence with me must. I was going to edit those two words but I shall let them stand so I can illustrate where humans can deviate from a more calmer path. Surely it would have been better for me to say something like it may be wise for us to embrace or even my own thoughts are that we must embrace. For me to say we must is dominating and forceful and even in our own little words on blogs such thinking can creep in.


Does your head hurt after that last paragraph? I think mine does as my synapses mingle together like some entangled metro system going nowhere in particular, it must be the Circle line. It is good though to enquire into the chromatic colours that do permeate those creations called thoughts. Hmm, I shall today craft together a piece of flash fiction. Dear muse, please do oblige as I type the words below…




“What idiot ordered the retreat?” blasted the president.

He peered at the mute audience around him who analysed a great marble table. The president drummed his fingers in impatience before scratching his temple.

“The incompetence and silence is truly pathetic. For now, we have to dress this up, Foreign minister, I charge you with this task. Call a press conference immediately.”

The minister stood, grunted a farewell and left the generals to explain their catastrophe. He felt the stultifying mood around him lift and grabbed a pen and paper. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to craft an explanation.


“Minister, can you inform us about the abandonment of the city?”

He sipped from his cup of water. The liquid doing little to cool his growing anger at the hostility of his interrogators. Still, good to ignite indignation.

“What abandonment? There is no abandonment at all.”

“Sorry, but we have reliable information that your troops have pulled back and have suffered significant losses.”

“Always, you people come up with the most ludicrous reports and it does not credit you to undermine us in such a false way. We are very much in charge of the situation on the ground and it was not a retreat as we achieved our objectives. We pacified the terrorists and have moved onto our main goal of restoring order to the rest of the country.”

“Sir, we have video and photographic evidence to the contrary. There are vehicles destroyed and soldiers in your uniforms lying dead.”

The minister snorted.

“This is all fabrication. The soldiers you see are the enemy and the opposition has simply put our markings on the fallen. It is an outrage and an egregious abomination to suggest otherwise.”

A shrew in pink glasses caught his attention.

“Sir, this campaign is bankrupting your economy. What do you say to that?”

He shook his head once more and glanced at his watch. He’d close things down soon enough.

“Totally preposterous. It is your governments who are suffering with downturns in their economy for closing their doors on us. Believe me, we are very strong and will want for nothing. If you talk to our great citizens they will tell you they’ve never had such abundance. Our country will always fight for the values of peace, liberation and freedom unlike your corrupt states.”

“What about the protests in your cities?”

The minister laughed.

“You mean a handful of deluded malcontents whipped into hysteria by foreign agents. Why is it you don’t report the huge demonstrations for our campaign? I’ll tell you why, because you always look to paint us in a bad light and don’t like to show the truth of what is happening. Honestly, you really need to get your facts straight.”

Another hand readied a question but the minister was on his feet.

“No more, I have to go now as I am looking to arrange a peaceful way out of this situation unlike you who constantly talk aggression. Thank you.”

He burst out the hall with his entourage penguin stepping behind. The president stood watching and handed him a glass of white wine.

“Well done as always. Always remember, we are right, even when we are not.”

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