Animal Farm

Welcome to Manor Farm, property of Old Farmer Jenkins.

Farmer Jenkins has tended to this small patch of English Countryside for as long as anyone can remember, he is as much of a feature of the area as the crumbling farmhouse itself. Or, at least, he was.

Every day Farmer Jenkins would awake at 5 in the morning and proceed to make his circuit of the farm, first the chickens with their corn-feed in exchange for their eggs. Then came the sheep who would mindlessly bleat as he threw handfuls of grain into their silo. The cows were always trickier as the Bull would often become defensive of his herd and charge if Farmer Jenkins was not careful. The goat would then come up and make his demands heard over the din of the rest of the farm until he was given some old table scraps to appease him. Then the horses would wait patiently while he heaved large heaps of hay into their pens, his old bones arthritically creaking with the effort. Then at long last he would go inside the farmhouse, put on the kettle and put the food into the cat and dog’s bowls before attending to himself. And all is well because of it.
This is the way it has always been on Manor Farm, come rain or shine, like clockwork. Until this morning.

This morning there was something different. A hush had settled over the farm and none of the animals was quite sure what was happening. Their food, for the first time in as many could remember, did not arrive.

And this is where your story begins.