“Did you feel it? That moment when she died, they say you’re supposed to know in some deep and very human place– the human state is a state of mourning, they say. Well I don’t know about you, but I did. I felt it. I mourned. Her throat between my teeth and I howled like Judas at the foot of God, and it wasn’t a lie. Here’s what they never ask– What if the wolf was sorry? All their fire, all those pitchforks and axes, all that smoke, still they never consider the apology in the littered bones. I suppose-in the big picture- it doesn’t matter. But I was sorry. I am always sorry. I am always howling guilt at the moon, because the moon forgives no one, and it helps me sleep at night, you see. Knowing there is someone out there who sees beneath the bonnet and the sheepskin. Someone who knows enough to hate me. But I did mourn her, you should know that now. I mourned before you had any indication– And isn’t that the human thing? Doesn’t that mean there’s some chance for a soul in me? Watch how I slip into her nightgown, some slippers, a pair of glasses and suddenly even you cannot tell us apart. I could be human, if you kept your distance. I could be. I could- but we all have our roles to play. If there’s a princess in a tower, there must be a dragon. If there’s a girl in a red coat, there must be a wolf. The story has to play itself out; someone has to be the bearer of teeth. But what happens when the dragon is the princess? And no one will kiss her on her mouth. And no one will help her sit quietly and teach her what to do when her lungs fill with smoke. What happens when the girl is the wolf? Gnawing off her own leg in the middle of the woods, and swallowing people whole for the company. What if the story isn’t the story everyone thought it was and no one knows the ending? It starts here: your house, your mother, the road through the woods, and the path with all the roses. Here is where we meet, and the literature gets fumbled– see, I never tell anyone what they should do. I just ask you what you want, and let you have it. That’s how selfishness works– It never says “no.” It goes both ways. I would have walked off a cliff if you’d asked, I would have swallowed the sun. I would have touched you so gently you’d have no idea you were dying– See, whatever happens, this is still your story. I’m just the wolf. I’m just the body. I’m just the excuse to strip off your skin and emerge something wicked- everyone dreams of being the monster when they know no one is watching, when they can turn it off as they please. And who are you, to stand there and watch me and hate me for my appetite? You with your quiet, you with your soft. You with your hands that are hands and not claws. You who have never been made to kill to survive. They’ll cut you from inside me, you know. They’ll cut you from inside me and you’ll still be the girl. And I’ll still be the wolf. And the girl. And the wolf who swallowed the girl and forgot to lie about it. Let’s jump to the end like it’s the first time. Come closer, I say, and I’m still hoping you’ll leave and let me be the hero- just this once. But I never say no, and that’s the whole point. That’s why we’re here. What big eyes, you say- all girl. all soft.-What teeth. The better. The better.”
— The Wolf (via clarkierys)
