The Life of Oscar Otter: An Allegory of the Russian Revolution

Epilogue

An old tree stands at the top of a hill on the Otter farm, surrounded by weeds and empty fields. The tree is tall and gnarled, just like the history behind it. It was planted over a hundred years ago, long before the Tiger abdicated, before either of the World Wars and many generations before Oscar was born.

    It used to be a beautiful fruit tree, feeding many people and spreading joy to all those who lived near it. When Oscar revisited the tree, he could barely remember those days,they were so long ago. The tree had stopped producing fruit years before, and termites had long since taken root in it, slowly sucking all of the life from it.

    Oscar visited that tree many times during his final days of life; it was his favorite spot to sit and reflect on all the events of his lifetime. Oscar never had any pups of his own, letting the Otter name die out with him. That thought saddened him, but would he have wanted to bring pups into this world anyway? He had experienced such hardship over his lifetime and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Sure, things got better after the end of the war, but not by much.

    So much death and destruction led them to this moment, and here they were, basically right back at the start. Sure, they had a change of management, but what else was there at the end of the day? Was it worth all that pain and fighting? Oscar didn't think so.

    One brisk fall day, Oscar died under that tree. He died under a name that wasn't his own with no one to remember him for who he really was. Because of his new identity, he wasn't buried with his parents in the same graveyard as had been the family tradition. Instead, he was buried somewhere else, without anyone there for his funeral nor anyone knowing the legacy he left behind him. But he was finally at peace, reunited with his parents after so many years apart.