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« on: May 26, 2009, 06:10:50 AM »
The death scene of Winnie the Pooh prompt lead me to writing this. It is a bit long but here it is.
The Death of Winnie the Pooh
His shirt was tattered and covered in stains as if it hadn't’t been laundered in years. His covering wasn't’t in any better shape. It was split in several places, and the patches that were so lovingly placed were leaking fluff. No, Winnie the Pooh had seen better days, but he still went about his life with joy and hope.
On this day, he was busy about a spot of lunch with his friends. This was a joyous occasion since it had been some time since he had gone to see them. It wasn't’t that he didn't’t want to see them more often; because he did. It was just that his joints hurt, and he couldn't’t get around as well as he once had. With that in mind, Pooh decided he had better get along if he wanted to make it to his friends before dark. Pooh reached into the cupboard, minding the broken hinge on the door, looking for his last pot of honey. Pooh had always meant to mend that hinge, but he never seemed to have the time. “There surely would be time later to do such things,” he would always assure himself. Finally, after much searching, Pooh found the honey pot. So with honey pot in hand, he headed for the door. Before leaving, he took one last glance around the room and decided he had everything. As he left, he walked under the plank of wood that once read “Mr. Sanders”; now that board was blank, washed clean by rain and time.
Stepping onto the path a chill breeze blew. Pooh hardly noticed the breeze as he walked on thinking about nothing in particular. Nothing except that maybe he should have a taste of honey before he got there, just to tide him over. He reached into the pot and he stopped. He noticed the leaves on all the trees had changed colors. Everywhere Pooh looked, the trees were covered with red and gold leaves. Those same leaves covered the ground as well. In fact, a little further along the trail Pooh encountered a large pile of leaves almost blocking the path.
As he passed the pile he couldn't’t help but think of Rabbit meticulously raking the leaves from around his house. Rabbit would work all morning making a great mountain of color, his soft fur then matted with sweat, and his brow furrowed from the effort. But, before he could even take a break from his task it would all be undone. After all, a large pile of leaves never failed in attracting a Tigger and a Roo. The two of them would laugh as they jumped into the leaves, scattering them all about the yard. Rabbit would demand to know just what they were doing. He would shake his fist and stamp his feet, and they would reply, “Jumping in leaves is what Tiggers and Roos do best.” This answer never seemed to make Rabbit happy though. After that, Kanga would take everyone home with her and make lunch. That was always Pooh’s favorite part. Jumping in leaves was fun, but nothing could beat a nice spot of lunch. Pooh couldn't’t suppress a giggle at the memory of his friends. He felt a little sad that he couldn't’t jump in this pile, but time was short and it would be dark soon. So with a sigh he left the leaves behind and continued on the path. As he walked, a sudden thought occurred to him. If the leaves had changed color and were gathering in piles, it must be fall.
“When did it become fall?” Pooh said. “It was only just yesterday that it was summer. I sure hope it doesn’t become winter and start to snow before I get to everyone.”
Echoing Pooh’s fear, the air grew suddenly colder, and the wind picked up in speed.
“Oh bother!”
It wasn't’t that Pooh didn't’t like winter, he really did, it was only that snow made walking somewhat harder for the old bear, and he needed to be somewhere.
“If only I had Piglet’s Scarf,” Pooh said.
If he had Piglet’s scarf he would be warmer he was sure. It always seemed to make Piglet warm, when he was cold anyways. Pooh began to picture his little, pink friend standing in the snow and shivering. Piglet would always have that scarf tied tight around his neck. It was the only thing that kept Piglet warm after all. Besides keeping him warm, Pooh liked having the scarf around because it made him think of Piglet and that was always nice. In any case, he couldn't’t go back to fetch the scarf and still make it to lunch in time, so without this little memento of his friend, and a little colder for not having it, he walked on.
As he went on his way, Pooh began to wonder. How many falls had he seen? He knew it must be an awful lot. He wasn't’t sure there was a number that went that far, and if there were, he wouldn’t know it if he saw it. It was at times like these that Pooh really wished he could ask Owl. Pooh could almost picture owl standing there, and doing the figuring for him. He could see Owl’s feathers ruffle in anticipation of the question, and flapping his wings when he had come to an answer. Yes, these types of ponderings were always better left to owl. It had been so very long since Pooh had had any figures done for him and they were really beginning to add up. Pooh had never taken to figuring anyways, he would rather just have some lunch, and then maybe, just maybe, a nap.
Just as pooh had decided to leave the really hard thinking to someone else, he came upon a little clearing.
“Oh Hurray!” exclaimed Pooh Bear. “I have come to the place I left to go to, and that is a good place to end up at.”
All of this thinking, along with the walking, made Pooh very hungry. So clutching his honey pot he made his way past a row of very small stones. Someone had placed the stones there some very long time ago, but Pooh couldn't’t remember why. As he sat on a small mound of overgrown grass under a very sad little tree to eat his lunch he started thinking again. The tiny tree so empty of leaves made him think of Eeyore. He thought his friend would certainly enjoy this tree as it was so very like him. It was quiet and small and seemed to mind its own business. It didn't’t reach so high as to block out the sun, nor was it so short that it didn't’t give enough shade. No this tree didn't’t want to get in anyone or anything’s way. Pooh thought that was very like Eeyore. So he sat under that unassuming tree and munched his lunch. Warm, thick and sticky honey covered his hands and face, and by the time the pot was empty, most of the bear as well.
Just as Pooh had licked the last drop of honey from his hand he realized how very tired he had become. He glanced around at the little stones through eyes half shut with sleep. It had been a very nice lunch with his friends even if he could not see them. He decided to just lay his head down for a bit and take a nap. The cool breeze had stopped, and the sun was warming his belly. This always made Pooh very sleepy. It was only after he closed his eyes that he heard a voice he had almost forgotten.
“Pooh Bear.” It called to him “Oh Pooh Bear.”
Pooh just knew he had heard that voice before. Then, all at once it came to him.
“Christopher Robin!” he shouted opening his eyes and seeing his friend standing over him.
“Yes Pooh, I have been waiting for you.” Said Christopher Robin
“You have?” Asked Pooh very puzzled. “But I have been here all along. You have only just come back.”
“No Pooh,” Said Christopher. “I have been waiting for you for a very long time and you have just now come home.”
“Really?” said Pooh “I am so very sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“Oh silly old bear,” laughed Christopher, “come along, and I will take you to everyone.”
“Christopher Robin?” Asked Pooh bear as he took Christopher Robin’s outstretched hand.
“Yes Pooh bear” replied the small boy.
“Do I ever have to leave you again?” Asked Pooh quietly.
“No, Pooh Bear, we can stay together forever.” Said Christopher Robin with a smile.
“That’s good, because I have recently run out of honey.” Said Pooh.
The two walked off together holding hands and laughing, and snow began to fall. It was just then that in a small clearing next to a row of stones, and under a sad little tree, an old toy bear covered in stains and patches finally made it to his friends.
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