Of Myths, Legends and Life

He had trained it hard and trained it as the Ancients had shown. He had started his work almost as soon as it had emerged from the egg and day by day the Gragert had grown to obey his commands. It had to be by 'carrot and stick' but he hated having to punish the little thing. As it grew to juvenile size, over twenty times bigger than he was, the punishments seemed meaningless and besides, the animal was already respecting the 'arch' totally.

Whichever of the great Ancients had thought of this form of constraint had been, quite simply, a genius. There was no way on this earth that you could build a cage or form of restraint to hold an adult Gragert. Their strength was phenomenal and the size required would be well beyond known construction skills, but the 'arch' held them safely and securely.

In principle it was simple, almost too simple to believe it could work. Each Gragert was raised right next to its own giant 'arch'. Each 'arch' was formed from the strongest trees creating an opening through which the Gragert could just pass. One side of the 'arch' represented the outside world. A world in which the Gragert could fly carrying its owner on its horned back. A world of freedom and opportunity.

The other side of the 'arch' represented the 'cage'. As a Gragert grew the invisible boundaries of the 'cage' were enforced by the stick. As this started almost from the egg the Gragert never had that moment to question the limit of its 'homeland'. They stayed, day after day, within the invisible 'cage' that limited their natural movement, behaviour and potential. They became servants to their masters without the thought process to question why one side of the 'arch' was the world and the other their invisible 'cage'. To anyone looking who didn't know they would just see some land with a series of wooden arches. What they Ancients had created way back then was find a way to control a Gragert and stifle its imagination.

Jane put the book down on her lap and stared out the window. She didn't like myths, legends or fantastical books but her friend had insisted she read it. She was only halfway down the front page and already she was bored. If a book didn't absorb her it was too easy to pay attention to the noises coming from her mother in the bedroom upstairs. Soon she would be shouting for something she needed, well wanted. She had been looking after her parents for as long as she could remember. 'It was her duty' she was constantly reminded when she was younger, indeed from when she was quite little. As a result her life had been on hold. Now her Father had died it was only her mother to care for but it seemed twice the work.

She stared out of the window watching the morning sun create shadows on the lawn. She really wanted to be out there, to feel the fresh air on her face. To run, to smile and maybe, just maybe - to laugh. Her Mother's voice punctured the dream. "Hurry up, it's time for the Archers. Come on dear, we always listen to The Archers together."