The Sad House of the Boar

There is a sad and twisted house on a quiet little street. This sad house is ruled by a great and dark boar, covered in a coarse, grizzled bristle of hair. This boar is huge and angry of temperament. His foul disposition keeps at bay a kindly and free-hearted  mother bear, and a tiny dark bat who lives in the attic of the sad house. Though, even the great boar cows down to a twisted, misshapen creature who hides away its terrible countenance in the back room of the sad house.

The kind mother bear goes about her happy tinkering in the yard behind the sad house, often late into the nights, dancing for the moon, and on to greet the gray light of morning. When she is in the sad house in the dark of night, it is often that she hears the low muttering of all too human voices speaking to her from the corners amongst hoards of horrible doll-things.

Daily, the great boar is attended by a twisted court. A multitude of withered and sickly snakes, whom the boar embraces as family. The snakes whisper unkind and dark things in the ear of the boar from their sickly tongues. The boar keeps the sick hissing words of his snake court a secret from the mother bear and the tiny bat. He uses these secrets to find fault in their gentle ways. These secret hissings sow undeserved rage and anger in the heart of the boar, and make him rail senselessly against the mother bear and her tiny bat. And so, they hide away from him even in their great love they hold for him.

The dark little bat hangs low in her attic amidst the flicker of dim lights and a television kept for quiet sound. For company, she calls upon a white wolf, terrible and greatly tender. This wolf of white pelt and blue storm eyes comes up the attic stairs to the bat late in the darkness times, for her to curl into for warmth and feeding. Often they hear the human voices echoing up the attic stairs at night, as they hide together from the boar, huddled away in uncertain sanctuary.

The tiny bat finds her calm and solace in the white wolf whom she secrets away in the attic with her, often for many days and nights, marking the passage of time only in light and dark from a single attic window. The wolf willingly bleeds to sustain the tiny bat silently in great affection, as they talk and howl long into each night of simple things, until they take their exhausted slumber in the first light of day creeping through the attic window. The tiny bat curls her wings into the great white pelt and whispers in her sleepiness, words of love and the secret name of her wolf. The wolf answers in kind, growling soft devotion and fidelity, and the name of the bat.

It is early and solemnly quiet in the sad house when the tiny bat must relinquish her hold on the white wolf, releasing it into the dawn. The blue storm eyes adjust to nothing and wander aimlessly in the day, circling close to the quiet street of the sad house. Until the bat calls out again for the wolf to return out of sight of the great boar, and to her wings in the attic. Always obedient, the white wolf answers and races back to the sad house, to find need with the dark little bat. And they shelter protected by the kindly mother bear, secreted away in the sad house of the boar.