Napoleon Monologue Animal Farm

Am I going to die? Not at the hands of Napoleon, but at the feet of a disaster. I could not remember, for the life of me, how to react during a fire. More smoke rises as the fire spreads. Adrenaline rushes through me when I feel the ground shake. Tears prick my eyes and a burning sensation spikes through my lungs. A new sense of fear overwhelms me. The loud beating of my heart is deafening.
“You filthy pig!” someone calls. I slowly turn and face the monstrous sound. Him. A disgusting, horrid, pathetic excuse of a man. Of course, I did not voice my thoughts. Instead, I charge for him, my fear fading into an anger like never before. The red hot fury consuming me now was enough to contradict the surrounding fire. Running towards him, he ducks

I might have heard a few stories about you.” He claims, almost as if it were an afterthought. I can’t help but wonder what stories he heard about me, but I don’t question it. “ Come inside the house Snowball. I don’t bite. I’m not the animal here, remember?” I bite back a snappy remark. He’s leading me into a warm house. There are other animals on this farm. Surely, I can bring the revolution here. I follow Mr. Frederick into his house. The scent of clean laundry fills my nose. Walking further inside, I stop and inhale a sharp breath. Other farm animals were tucked in bed wearing clothing. Just the sight of animals performing human acts was enough to make me feel sick. How could they? I turn and go back

Now they’ll be ready to attack as soon as we arrive.” Mr. Frederick exclaims. My plan has not been set in action, yet I’ve already failed. Another idea pops into my head. If they’re attacking after we arrive, maybe we shouldn’t go. I cry out and push Frederick onto the ground. He seems startled, but angry nonetheless. I run out to the barn, turning to ensure no one is behind me. When I reach the barn, I run to the highest floor thinking of a way to prevent Mr. Frederick from going to Manor Farm. His footsteps are heard trudging up each step as I search frantically for something, anything, to get me out of this mess. As if my silent prayers were answered, I spot a container of gasoline. I jump over a stack of hay, tipping the container over, spilling its contents all throughout the barn. Mr. Frederick has caught up to me. Just the man I wanted to see. I continue to provoke him, trying hard to grab the matchsticks in his