The Morning Wolf – Concluded

The sister went in the night to speak to the Candy Man and he cozzened her, or she cozzened him, well who knows, but the fact is there was much mutual cozzening and cuddling twixt those two — sister and candyman — and the final reckoning was that sister came back to her little sister with oh so much candy and fed it to her, saying she should look well for her wedding, till she grew thick thighs and a round belly. But all along she was planning to marry the Candy Man for herself, but her younger sister didn’t know it, being kind herself and of a good heart, and slow to see evil in others, most specially her own kin.

But one morning while she was out gathering the dew from the dew-wells through the grey mist there came a wolf. And this was a surprise to her, because the wolf is an animal who hunts at night, and hunts with his kin, his brother and sister and aunt and uncle, and this wolf was alone and it was dawn. And the morning wolf spoke to her and said “Beware good sister, beware, for there is mischief afoot. Your sister and the candyman they plan to cut your throat and she will take him for her own good husband, and you will have none.”

“And how do you know this wolf?” she asked.

“I am the brother of the Wolf’s own king, and he is a bad one, cruel and full of tricks and lies. And your sister and her leman the Candy Man have made treaty with him, that we will slay your father and serve him and pull him and his lady in a coach drawn by wolves. And the price is your own fair body to be our meet.”

“You told me this would be a story from before the animals talked. And you have your wolf giving a speech like he is in the Congress.” said the Cat.

“Then he did not say it. But she knew he meant it, from the look in his eye, and the turn of his tail.”

The Cat feel to licking her paws. Like all their meta-parleys, their talk of when the animals didn’t know to talk had led nowhere.

The little sister lay down on her bed crying, for the loss of her leman the candyman and the cruelty of her own sister, her closest kin in the whole System. And the Pumpkin heard her cries and said “It is my job to protect thee, little chit. Tell me why you suffer.”

The sister told the Pumpkin what her sister and the candyman and the King of the Wolves planned and the Pumpkin said “Come then, let me take your brain and hide it, for that is where you keep your Soule, and it will come to know harm, though the wolf and his kin eat your meat and gizzard and bones.” And the sister said this would be a good idea and this is what they did.

“You keep your Soule’s in your Braines.” said the Cat “But we keep them in our whole body from nose to tail, or else we have none.” “Shh.” said Mother, the story is almost over.

The wolves ate the body of the beautiful kind sister and the cruel sister and the candyman prepared to wed. Father came off the train and saw the wedding. “This is our house now, old man! The Candy Man is my husband and the wolves are my knights.”

“And where is your sister?” Father asked.

“She is gone and cursed you for a bad man.”

And at that moment the orange bloom of the pumpkin opened and within it was the fair face of the young kind sister. “Father she lies. They cut my throat and treated me most cruelly. And but for the aid of the morning wolf, their cruel plot would have born fruit.”

Father shot the Candy Man with his laser gun and melted him to syrup, the Morning Wolf tore out the throat of the Evil Wolf King. The wolves had a good in the morning wolf, and for the sister, she lived happily ever after. For the wolf had been enchanted and he became a man and took her to wife, and nought went ill ever again.

The Cat knew it was best to feign that the story made sense to her although of course it did not. She did as she always did and rubbed herself against mother’s leg, between foot and thigh where the green leaves grew and the tiny thorns were soft and far between, and she was rewarded, as she always was, with a dish of thick white cream.


6 thoughts on “The Morning Wolf – Concluded

  1. When I wake up in the morning these days, it is with the hope of finding you wrote something new. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, this expectation is almost burning hope.

  2. I read each word and search for the meaning created by your mind. When it eludes me — as it mostly does — I turn the words into something else in mine. As time passes by and I let the words find their own way, sometimes meaning is born from the incomprehensible.

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