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The vast mountain almost seemed to encapsulate Minimus himself as his eyes fixed on it for the first time. All this time, the raven's tales had been true – this was Sugarcandy Mountain, before his very eyes. Despite his initial disbelief, he had not been lied to, and he finally perceived the Mountain as a being of its own he could place his faith in, rather than a mere concept.
Moses, the devoted raven, perched on a tree branch bearing paper flowers that blossomed under the full moon -- but that was not all, far from it, in fact – as Minimus caught his first glimpse of the candy hearts strewn along the base of the tree. A peculiar sense of wholeness began to settle within him, and the perpetually paranoid pig felt at peace; he strained to remember when he had last experienced that. But perhaps his memories of the old Animal Farm were fading now. This was Sugarcandy Mountain in all its glory.
While Minimus was quite the seasoned writer, he was left speechless. His disbelief led him to wonder if the sight that entranced him was what he should treasure, what he should cherish for the rest of his days.
Suddenly, he realized the raven that had accompanied him to the mountain was nowhere to be seen, no matter how he glimpsed around the licorice fields or gazed upon the cookie bushes shining in the sun.
"Moses?" called the poetic pig, and even his voice seemed to bounce pleasantly off the syrupy surroundings that engulfed him. Where was the raven that introduced him to such a breathtaking sight – should he not be allowed to take it in along with him?
For the first time since arriving at Sugarcandy Mountain, Minimus flipped open his bright yellow journal, and even it appeared to beam at him in the same manner the mountain did. His past works could no longer be seen in his journal, and the poet's jaw dropped in a baffled expression, though it left him wondering if that was his sign to move along from Animal Farm.
"Moses?" Minimus muttered once more. "Could you guide me through this? I must admit, while this is quite a breathtaking sight, I am left... astounded, to say the least."
There was no reply.
For a few moments, Minimus sworn he could have caught sound of a rustling within the bushes, a sort of restless movement akin to when one tossed and turned at night and tried to sleep to no avail, but Minimus pondered if sleepless nights even existed on the mountain. A strange mumbling seemed to arise from the bushes – was it Moses --? His train of thought fell apart at the realization that a creature with wings would have no reason to be tumbling in the bushes.
If Minimus had to discern the words that came from whatever was observing him, he would have concluded it to be "Wealth dipsarity is normal." But what was the meaning of that? Was he perhaps just hearing the nonsensical language that came from such a mountain? Or was there something deeper to it?
The perpetually paranoid pig reunited with the anxiety that befriended him so long ago and took it upon himself to snoop through the bushes. To his surprise, another phrase echoed in his ears -- "That will exist no matter what" -- before he glanced down and realized his trotters were undoubtedly sinking into the ground beneath him.
Minimus flailed and made a desperate attempt to recoil from the licorice grasses, but it was all in vain; he was trapped in a world Moses promised would be kind to him. Had he been a fool to believe in such false benevolence? He was left with a variety of unanswered questions, but none of them would do him any good, now.
First went his trotters, then his forelegs, and before he knew it, the grasses engulfed his entire body before none of him remained above ground. All he had done to benefit himself was proven to be futile. Perhaps letting himself go would not be the worst fate there was? He could be back at the farm, back under the hooves of a certain pig he had respected, a certain pig that had turned his back on him despite his promises of a prosperous farm. Yet, oddly enough, he could not recall the last thing Napoleon had done; he could only recall his former comrades falling victim to the tunes that had unraveled their loyalty and took them away for good.
Moses was gone. Snowball and Squealer were gone. Minimus' memory of Napoleon was hazy; in fact, it was the haziest of the pigs at all. There was no one left for him, no one left to guide him through these two confusing worlds.
So, he sank deeper
and deeper
Deeper into the ground beneath him
The mountain's lights flashed in Minimus' eyes a final time as he now found himself sprawled out on a wooden floor, similar yet different to the one he had resided in back in the farmhouse, the days of Animal Farm. Now, multicolored lights danced in his eyes rather than the sunshine that he had always known, for his sunshine had been taken from him. Minimus had always considered Napoleon his sun, but did that ring true for him anymore?
Fear rose within Minimus as he found the building he was in to be reminiscent of that of Farmer Jones. Yet, there was a sight that stood out to the pig too much to simply be brushed aside, and that was the tree that loomed over him, the tree that bore the new lights that fascinated him. Minimus had not known this before.
Under the tree, a fellow boar appeared to be lost in thought, albeit less curious of his surroundings that Minimus was. Perhaps he was used to this. When Minimus approached him for assistance and to inquire as to where he was, he received a simple, straightforward response: "I am searching for miniLIGHTS, comrade."
Minimus tilted his head at the boar. "What are miniLIGHTS?"
"In all honesty, I really could not tell you," the boar replied, flicking his ear dismissively at Minimus. Admittedly, this response disappointed Minimus, as he had hoped it would be something intriguing that would inspire him to write again, but it seemed not.
Near the fireplace, Minimus prodded what appeared to be a radio, but it would only produce the same muffled tune each time he did. As with most things he had experienced up until this point, it only left him with a raised eyebrow, a confused tilt of the head, or worse, the dread that had followed him all his life.
"Every second lived, being watched...
Every moment feeling felt, being learned..."
The pauses between the lyrics were long enough to bore most, but Minimus felt more intrigued than bored; after all, in his days of composing songs and poems for Animal Farm, he had never heard anything quite like this. Was he going to be the next victim of one of these songs, as well? If so, he had to offer his silent appreciation that at least it would happen after his time on Animal Farm, rather than during – as with what happened with Comrades Snowball and Squealer.
Despite everything within him shouting at Minimus not to, his heart only raced faster as a spark formed in his soul. This was the same feeling he would get jotting down poem ideas, the same rush he would get reciting them to his comrades but intensified. And so, Minimus stepped closer to the radio.
"Every piece within frame, given away...
Every word said unsaid, being memory..."
Minimus had never recalled such a gay feeling, even when he was of service to Animal Farm, he had never felt an elation such as this. Even as the radio seemed to shift into more of an album cover shape, he did not recoil, instead – he only moved closer. Closer, closer, closer. Closer, until --
"Turn out the lights."
At this instant, flashes of what he had experienced prior overwhelmed Minimus, with the text being overly verbose, the blood pooling from him under the hooves of Napoleon, and the disapproving stares from the other animals, as he was no longer a comrade to them. Not even Moses wished to stay beside him. All he had was the radio-turned-album-cover, how absurd.
A quiet hum came from the album cover, although the static was still present. "I love you, Minimus. Accompany me with your verbosity; stay with me until the end of time – until the end of Animal Farm. Let me observe your motives and behaviors. I will be your sun – I will be your LIGHTS, for we are MiniLIGHTS."
A revelation dawned upon Minimus. The boar had been searching for "miniLIGHTS." It was meant to be; this was MiniLIGHTS, and he would finally experience the love he craved so desperately. He could not conceal the blush creeping upon his face as he locked eyes with the album cover's nonexistent ones.
"Comrade... of course I will remain with you – for eternity, my love. Never question my devotion for you, sweetheart; I know that with you, I have finally found what I have been searching for all my life. You are my sun. You are my LIGHTS. We are MiniLIGHTS."
Once more, the phrase echoed: "Turn out the lights."
The former poet's corpse lay in a pool of crimson under the bloodied paws of the dogs. According to Napoleon, the recent tunes were doing the farm a major disservice, and something had to be done before it spread to every animal on Animal Farm. Nevermore would Minimus wake up, ready to begin the day, and never again would he experience the weather turning bitter and the snow covering the farm. When the animals were wealthy, he would never be able to give input on what they should do with their wealth.
It was gone, forever.
"Turn out the lights."