Left, left, left, right, left. Back straight, arms swinging at the shoulder, crisp, clean steps.
He would drum it into these natives if it killed him. No good roads, that was the problem. Didn’t live in proper houses. Didn’t wear any clothes, half of them. The whole place needed civilising. Her Majesty’s army would soon lick this lot into shape.
He must keep marching. Everyday leaving camp and following the same route around Port Vila.
Left, left, left, right, left. Under the feverish sun.
At the start they had pushed him to the ground, kicked and beaten him. Then they had laughed.
Now they ignored him. Some thought they should contact London.
In the end they decided he was harming no one. He seemed happy enough carrying on his own routine, deliriously barking at the soldiers who existed only in his eccentric mind.
He served to remind them of the freedom they had won.
Linking up with the prompt at What Pegman Saw. The task is to write a story in 150 words or less based on the destination that Pegman is visiting. This week’s destination is the South Pacific islands of Vanuatu.
You can read other stories based on the prompt HERE.
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