Member-only story
The Prime Minister in a Dark Wood
A fable.
The prime minister of a disunited kingdom was lost in a dense forest. The trees were endless, there were no paths, he stumbled from bramble patch to bramble patch, bog to bog. His smart suit was tattered, his expensive shoes were falling apart, his hair was even more like a haystack attacked by a tornado than it usually was.
At last he sank down exhausted onto the root of an old oak tree and thought he might as well stay there since he was obviously not going to get out before nightfall. Where was his advisor? How had he got here? He had no idea.
He felt offended that nobody seemed to be searching for him as they surely would for a lost child. I’m much more important than any lost child, he thought modestly, why aren’t the SAS combing through the wood? Where are the helicopters and searchlights?
“Doesn’t anybody like me any more?” That thought made him feel quite brave thinking it.
“No,” came the cold answer from the wind in the brambles.
That hurt. It was something he dreaded. Not to be liked, not to be admired. He no longer felt brave.
“Why not?” he asked the brambles.
“They’re bored of your lies,” they said. “If you occasionally told the truth, that would entertain them more. But since you don’t…
