ORIGINS: There are biscuits in the original series. And since we have already established that ballerinas go with wolves, we couldn’t resist. Look at the snouts of those wolves. If those aren’t ballerinas in straw dresses hugging them tight, we don’t know what else they could be.
The moon doesn’t bring out the wolf in me. It’s too far away, and, anyway, moonlight will never be bright enough to have a hold on me. When was the last time you really looked at the moon? It’s too threadbare, too worn-out and full of holes. If there was ever any magic, I assure you that the moths ate it long before I was born. No. Snow is what calls to the wolf in me. Howling, snowy winds and then an endless stretch of white. Waiting for me to spill blood all over it.
I don’t need Winter’s help to bring out the bear in me. I am not a child anymore. I only had to be taught once, and before they disappeared from the night sky, the stars did a fantastic job of teaching me to dream. Nowadays I don’t even rely on sleep. I only dream in the middle of the day, when I am wide awake and I know that my dreams won’t fade away. So, no. Thank you, but Winter can keep its snowflakes. I don’t need something that will only melt away. You might have given up, but I refuse to follow in your footsteps.
Don’t waste your time. Nothing and no one can bring out the cat in me anymore. My curiosity is dead. I killed it with my own two eyes. I saw in the dark. All the ugliness in people’s hearts. And even if you tell me that it’s not the end of the world, that if I keep digging I will surely strike gold one day, I don’t believe in magic anymore. Ugliness is unforgettable. And I have seen too much of it. There is no way that it won’t overshadow any sliver of beauty I may find.
As far back as I can remember, that forest has brought out the beaver in me. Twisted branches and monsters lurking in the dark, I remember being afraid. My breath clawing at my lungs, screaming, urging me to protect myself. I should have run. But I built a dam instead. I tried to stop that fear, with the most beautiful things I had. With the things that brought me comfort. The things that made me feel safe enough to breathe. I broke off a thousand pieces of my heart to build that dam. I tried to prove that I could win. That I could overpower all the ugliness of that forest. But I ended up losing everything.
I am a wolf, I already have a hold over the moon. What would I need from the likes of you? The moon rules over the tides, and I only have to howl to get what I want from her. Even if you were to surrender your heart to me, one or two drops of blood are nothing compared to moonlight. One night, when the moon is no longer of use to me, I will eat her. I will savor every last drop of her. But eating you won’t make me feel powerful, and I refuse to have any other aftertaste in my mouth.
Do I look like I am even remotely interested in you? Put your hands down and stop begging me to spare your life. Don’t promise to surrender anything and everything to me. Just stop. The stars are gone. And I would like to dream while they are still fresh in my mind. Just be quiet and get out of my sight.
Did you know that I use my whiskers to feel my way through this dark world? I am a curious cat, and there are still many things I don’t know out there. But I don’t see wonder twinkling in your eyes. I don’t even see a lukewarm ember of interest. So, you won’t mind surrendering your heartstrings to me, will you? I can tell that you are not using them, and at least I would put them to good use. I could do with one or two more whiskers.
Please. Pretty please. I have run out of branches, but I am not done building my dam. Do you see this smile? It won’t hold back the flood for much longer. And I am not talking about a few harmless tears. I am talking about blood-red rage. So, why don’t you hand over a few bones to me? While I am still asking nicely, without letting my teeth show. You don’t have to call it surrender if you don’t like that word. We will just call it a helping hand.
Don’t hug me. Don’t try to stop me. I don’t want your comfort. A hug won’t appease the beast that’s stealing my breath to stoke the flames. Get out of my way. Let me howl. I have to get this rage out of my throat. I have to throw it at the moon. Better it than me. Let the moon wane. Let the flames consume it instead of me.
What do you think you are doing? Don’t tuck me in. Don’t hug me. I am not your teddy bear. I have my own dreams. Don’t even try to hand-feed me yours. Don’t steal my breath. If you are a child, and you need someone else’s help to keep your dreams alive, look for it somewhere else. Or, here’s a thought, why don’t you just try growing up? And using your own teeth and your own nails to make your dreams a reality.
I mean no disrespect, but I am not your dog. I am an aloof cat. Do you know what that means? It means that you can’t just hug me because you feel like it. I have a life outside the four walls of your heart. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t hug me close to your chest, every time you need to reinforce your sense of ownership.
Thank you! I have never felt so loved. I always thought that I would have to decide for myself what to say and what to bury in my heart. But my words seemed to have a mind of their own, and I feared the river’s current would be too strong for me. I tried to be considerate and kind, I never wanted to hurt anyone else’s feelings, but one or two hurtful words always seemed to slip through the branches of my dam. But I see no holes in your hug. What word should I use to describe something so strong? Unforgiving is the one that’s on the tip of my tongue. And I have never felt more relieved. Because now that you are here, hugging me, I can just leave everything in your hands.
Don’t stare into the dark. Who’s the star here? That’s right, I am. So, look at me. If you want to know what the wolf took from me, you could just have asked me. You didn’t have to dig. Or have I read you wrong? Are looking for the heart of this wolf? If that’s the case, please, don’t let me interrupt you. Keep staring. Please. You will eventually bleed out. And who knows, maybe you will be lucky, and that puddle of blood will resemble a heart.
Are you wide awake? Are you done growing up? It hurts, doesn’t it? More than your bones ever did, am I right? Don’t worry, darling, your eyes will get used to the dark soon enough. But in the meantime, maybe I could offer you a shooting star or two? Something shiny, to distract yourself. Would you like to wish everything away? It won’t work, of course, the world will remain unchanged. As dark as the mouth of this bear that lives to feed on dreams as sweet as yours. But I have heard that it’s the thought that counts. And I want you to hurt a little bit less.
Do you want to laugh with me? I heard somewhere that this life is made out of laughter and tears. And since teary eyes glitter like stars, that has to mean that the rest, all the darkness of space, rings with laughter. That it is there, even if we can’t hear it. So, what do you say? Will you join me in making the world a darker place? What? The cat? The cat is just there to take the pressure off. Nine lives and all that. To let us know that even if we break into tears, it won’t be the end of the world. Because we will still have eight more tomorrows left.
The dam broke. There was a moment of rage, and now there is only darkness left. What do you expect from me? Hope? A gentle rain? A chance to start all over again and prove that you can right your wrongs? I am sorry, but trust is one of those things that, when broken, can’t be put back together. Sooner or later you would act like the beaver that you are. You would build a new dam, and when it broke, you would ask for another chance. Three. Four. Five. You know as well as I do that you would keep asking. But I have to draw the line somewhere. And blaming myself once is more than enough for me.
Is this the part where I am supposed to ask for help? Please! Help me! I am about to be wolfed down! Is that what I am supposed to say? Please, don’t make me laugh. Wolves are pack animals. This one isn’t an exception. And neither are you.
I am trapped in a dream. If I were asleep, I wouldn’t ask for your help. I would just keep on sleeping with a smile on my face. But I am wide awake, and the sweet aftertaste in the mouth of this bear is about to turn sour. I can’t forget my dream. It doesn’t matter how many tears I shed, I can’t wash it off. Please. I just want to be happy. I need to forget everything I have ever wanted, and settle for what I can have. Reality will never measure up. And I need you to help me forget my dream. Like you forgot yours. Please. I need to be happy too.
The cat came to collect my tongue. But if I let it take my words, I wouldn’t have anything left. Ever since I discovered that I could create my own make-believe, perfect world, I never bothered with anything else. No friendships. No loves. Why would I have, when I could put the words I wanted to hear in my heart and feign more voices than I would ever need to stave off loneliness? So, as you can see, I had no choice but to let the cat eat me whole.
I could have done without ever being your dam. Without taking the brunt of everything you kept inside, while you regaled everybody else with smiles. I learned what ugliness is at your feet, but I didn’t truly understand the meaning of that word until there was only one wish left in my heart. It wasn’t that the dam would finally break. No. You made me wish that your smile would work on me too. And I will always hate you for that, for eating away everything else and leaving only that ugliest of scars inside me.