ORIGINS: One of the words we used in the original series was DESULTORY. We wrote it in three lines, then we took the first column and the last. That gave us two pigs in a sty.
I have no reason to fear the big bad wolf. Wolves are the color of mud, and I am one of the two pigs in this sty. The mud is ours to spread, until the nightmare shows us what we want to see. An innocent little girl, that doesn’t know what fear is yet.
I grew up in a sty. The fairytales I was told had princesses kissing frogs. But my brother told me to kiss the mud, that it would only take a kiss to turn it into a river to a darker place. He promised to be my ferryman, to show me all the sights. Every nightmarish wonder he already knew by heart. And I took his hand. I didn’t want to suffer because I still had the heart of a child. I already knew that at the end of the day, there was only darkness in the world. And if getting to know the monsters that hide in the mud would spare me future heartbreak, I would kiss it, without ever looking back.
No one believes me. No one believes in me. Not even my brother. I tell him that our hooves are meant to capture the stars, that it’s a perfect fit. I tell him that shooting stars leave a trail of mud behind them, and so do we. But he doesn’t believe me when I tell him that our wishes are meant to come true. That we were born to dream, and have our dreams come true. I expected that from everyone else. Not from someone who has the same hooves as me, and was born under the same star.
I was told to be happy, to wallow in the mud like a pig. They kissed me, they said that they loved me, and left me there, in the mud, to do as I pleased. To laugh, and scream, and splash mud everywhere. A hell of my own making, for everyone but myself.