This week’s #writephoto

Charleston Darwin really disliked his older cousin and his Origin of Species. It was all so… so… limited. The book talked species but it just man man man. Didn’t other species deserve some time in the sun? Why were humans so special? Hadn’t every species evolved.

He tried pointing this out to Charles but he was too busy with his worms and his pea plants. ‘Later, old boy.’

Always ‘later’.

Charleston sat at his desk, pick up his pen, dipped it in the ink pot, paused for a moment and looked at his hand. That was it, wasn’t it? We – man – could write and none of the rest came close.

He put the pen back. He could write an alternative Origin of (All The Other) Species or he could do something for those species.

He picked up his pen and wrote

The Opposable Thumbs Society

He would spend his time and money, of which he had inherited quite a lot, working to enable other species to be able to write, to develop that grip. He would be a hero to every mammal. Except his own.

Having written the name of his new society he put the pen down. A bell sounded from below. Time for a bite of dinner.

Mrs Darwin was waiting for Charleston as he reached the door for the dining room. ‘You look pleased, my dear.’

‘Indeed, for I have discerned my purpose.’

‘Which is?’

‘Dinner first then I will reveal all.’

Whether it was simple misfortune or some sort of peevish fish who took umbrage at not being included in the nascent society, history doesn’t relate. What is known is that Charleston Darwin died having swallowed a fish bone and choking. And the Opposable Thumbs Society? It’s still waiting.