There’s a strange word going around. What they call The Rumour…

I think it wasn’t meant to mean what it does, The Rumour. But blame it on the abundant creativity of the people, tireless as they were, to weave those luscious tales out of their busy, rumour-creating spindles. Each craftsman very proud of his skill, and affectionate of their produce. As if they were the finest of silks.

That’s the tough part.

The easy bit would be to spread the word around. An ear is all it takes, they say, and soon the world is talking about it. Probably evolving as it, The Rumour, passes from one potential rumour-spindle to another, with a few bits added here and a few other removed for those gripping, gaping, dramatic effects that we so love.

The Rumour, if well crafted, always manages to induce shrieks of joy, surprised leaps, and inadvertent questions.

Who cares what’s at stake. As long as there’s a juicy steak to feast on, do we even bother about the slaughtered animal?

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