TattlesThe Menagerie
#1



In the clearing of the meadow stood a tall hill, one inlaid with stony steps for those who wished to reach the top by climb. Upon the crest the girl sat on a quilt, holding close to her very dear, good friend. Her companion, a long and winding thing, coiled lazily about her abdomen, its scales smooth to the touch and its eyes unblinking and dark. Its tongue flicked out when it spoke and every now and then she could see those teeth which sat within its mouth.

“Serpent,” said the girl, “Are the others coming?” she asked.

The serpent turned its head and slowly shook it, knowing the truth of the matter, that despite the array of food and candies the girl put out across their resting spot, their previously invited guests were unlikely to arrive.

The girl looked down, her expression souring. She tugged at a loose thread that was fraying at the edge of the picnic blanket. She had invited so many others. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, she wanted to know why they had ignored her, why they had left her all alone. The girl’s fists took up some of the cloth and balled it up, but the serpent’s tail found itself resting upon the back of her pale hand, its touch cold, its presence soothing to the girl.

“You are not alone, for you have me.” the serpent hissed.

The girl brought her arms around the serpent and laid back, now staring up at the sunny sky littered with clouds.

“Will I always have you, serpent?” she asked.

The serpent let her hold its body while its head arched upward, its eyes now turned to the very same sky she was viewing.

“Yes, girl,” it said, “You and I will never be apart.”

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#2
Through the woods they went, that girl and her companion. One walked and one slithered, both content to hear the silence of the trees, the whispers of the wind. It was in this place that the snake knew it could not be bested, for there was no creature that could rival it, and because of this, the girl would never feel fear.
And yet there was a problem, for due to the serpent's strength and might, the other creatures ran from he and the girl.

"Serpent," the girl said when they fled, their tails and their paws disappearing into the roots of the large trees and the burrows in the earth, "Why do they run?"

"They are afraid, girl," the serpent replied, "They know that if they approach, I will be at your side, for we are never apart."

The girl thought on this, believing it to be quite sad. While she was grateful for her friend's constant presence, she wished to meet others. The girl wanted to speak with all of the animals of the forest and the rivers. She was certain they all had a tale to tell.
The serpent could sense her discontent. He felt the unease within her heart as if it was his own, and as they continued down the path, he spoke again.

"You wish they would come closer." he said.

The girl did not speak. She was embarrassed and partially ashamed to doubt that the company she kept was enough.

She nodded.

The snake's tongue flicked out and his head rose, more than half of his body ascending to reach a height greater than the girl's own. His dark eyes looked across the woods, and with those crisp winds, he breathed. His form changed, first his nose, and then his face, both elongating to a certain degree.

Where the serpent held small indents for ears, the scales and skin lengthened, tufts of dark fur soon to replace the cold exterior of the reptilian creature.

Limbs grew from the sides, four by the end of things, and that long coiled body rose and shifted into something more mammalian, until finally not a snake, but a beast stood beside the girl.

It lifted its head to the sky and gave a great howl, a sound it could not make as a serpent, but one that commanded the animals in their holes and in their shelters to congregate before it, for it was the king of this realm and would not allow them to hide from its majesty any longer.

The girl watched, bewildered and surprised at the change, and when the lesser animals approached, she was beside herself with joy.

"They are not afraid!" she said, opening her arms to accept them.

The beast corrected her, "They are still afraid, girl," he explained, "They will always be afraid, but it will not matter, because you are not."

But the girl did not care. Even if her new friends were afraid of the beast, they had come all the same to see and meet her.
And once the gathering was finished and she had learned their names, the girl and the beast turned to continue down the road,
walking
side by side.

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#3



“Beast,” the girl asked, “Tell me again the story of the day we first met.”

The two were walking through the woods, one on two legs and one on four, though neither cared for such details. The beast turned to her, his eyes dark and shining with memory. It was a day the girl never could recall, but one he had recounted to her at least a dozen times prior to this asking.

“It is a sad story, even if it has a happy ending. Do you truly wish to hear it once more?”

The beast’s great paws left their prints in the dirt underfoot, his tracks far larger than those left behind by the girl. 
He already knew what her answer would be.

“Yes. I like hearing it. Even the parts you don’t like telling.” the girl said.

“I enjoy telling it, girl,” he responded with patience, even in a moment of disagreement, “I only wish to ensure you won’t be upset.”

As they walked he spoke, and some of the lesser animals leaned out from their hidden places along the trail to hear the tale for the first time.

~

You were alone.
At least when I found you that’s what it looked like.
But it was plain to see that that had not always been the case.
You were once surrounded by people who cared about you,
Once kept warm by family.

Your Father built you a cabin in the woods. 
His hard work was easy to see in each placement of the beams and the detail of the roof. He built you a house that would last through each season.
Your Father built you a home.

Your Mother collected dolls.
Some of them looked like you, and some looked like me and the other animals.
Some of them were young and some of them were made to appear old.
And though you liked the dolls,
Your Mother would not let you play with them.

Something happened, something I wasn’t around to see.
But your Father left,
And your Mother blamed you.
The animals of the forest did not come close due to your mother’s anger and yelling,
But it was because of her shouts that I was first drawn to your home.

She would chastise you for touching her dolls,
She would punish you for coming out of your room.
Your Mother became a woman of hatred and spite,
And when she became angry, she sought for others to blame to rid herself of the pain.

The other animals would flee,
For they could climb trees.
They could hide in burrows.
They could swim in rivers.
They fled because they were afraid.

You could not escape.
You were trapped in that home your Father had built.
You were locked in your quarters and forced to starve.
You could not hide, for there was nowhere to go.
I thought you were afraid,
And that was why you stayed.

But I was wrong.

I crept underneath the door one night,
I slithered along the floorboards.
I wrapped myself around your Mother’s dolls and I waited,
Because I wanted to see you.

I watched your Mother hurt you.
I saw that your room was an empty closet with nothing inside.
I saw that though you were once a girl surrounded by love,
You had grown to know only this world of pain.

And yet,
You were not afraid.

I admired you.
Though you were starved and tired,
Though you knew little outside of your bleak room,
You looked at your Mother’s dolls with hope.
You looked at me, and I looked back.

I knew then I had to help.
This home was no longer your home,
And your family was no longer your family.
And so the next time you looked at the dolls,
I revealed myself.

I unlocked your bedroom door,
And supplied what I needed to.
I urged you toward your sleeping Mother,
And we ensured she would not wake again.

The days following were difficult.
It was obvious that what food your Father had left had long expired,
And your Mother had eaten nearly everything,
Leaving only scraps,
Rotting,
On the ground.

But even then you were not afraid.
And so for you, I hunted.

I brought back meat and eggs from the bird nests nearby.
I found rabbits and toads near the pond.
And each time I returned,
You were had placed those dolls around you,
And surrounded yourself with their love.

And you had a family again.

~

The beast finished his story as they reached the cabin, the front door still wide open from the last time they left, for they did not believe in shutting out visitors. The girl stopped in the small yard as she was lost in thought.
 The story always gave her something to pause about.

“Are you alright, girl?” the beast asked.

The girl was quiet, but did not ignore him, for he was her dearest, very good, best friend.

“Do you have fears, Beast?” she asked.

The beast turned to her, one of his large paws rested heavily on the first step before the door.

“One.” he said.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

The beast’s paw moved, and he took a step toward her, and then another, until his back limbs grew longer, and his front legs turned to arms. His fur turned to fine cloth, and atop his head, dark antlers grew to match the branches of the greatest trees.

He stood before the girl, and offered her his hand to lead her inside.

“Is it not obvious?” he said with a charming smile.

“My fear is being without you.”


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#4



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#5



It had happened before the Book.
One would have to flip back a few pages to find it,
That ever fateful day.

--

Among the rolling hills and sprawling valleys of that Great Menagerie, that Eden,
There had always existed an end.
The girl had found it once before, long ago in her early youth.

On that day she and the beast had walked the paths,
They had awoken at the first sign of dawn,
And intended to share another picnic,
One that the girl had invited all of the other creatures,
Those that feared both she and the beast.

She always hoped they would come,
But it was rare that they ever did.
It didn’t matter on this day,
For she and the beast wouldn’t reach their destination.

It happened when she saw the fork in the road,
One path going east, the other west, despite being covered in leaves and debris.
Curious as ever, the girl ventured down it.

“I would not go that way.” the beast warned.

“Why not?” the girl asked, one foot after the other taking her further and further into the unknown.

“This is not a place we are meant to be. It is not a place I thought you’d find.” he said.

Before the girl could reply, she had already found something;
Glass and steel that wove together in some sort of structure.
Panes and barring formed what could only be called a wall, one that spread all the way to the right, and all the way to the left,
And rose up as high as the girl could see.

“It is the Divider.” the beast said. “The barrier between here and there.”

“What is on the other side?” the girl asked.

The beast did not answer right away,
Causing the girl to look back to him.

“Come away from here.” he said. “And forget what we saw.”

The girl didn’t want to listen,
But when it came to the beast, she almost always obeyed.
And so they left that place,
But she refused the picnic,
And they returned home.

--

Years had passed since then.
The Book was opened.
The girl changed.
The beast feared her.

And he could not stop her from shattering
That Great Divider.
The glass came down like rain,
The steel bent and creaked aside at her whim.
And when it was finished, the Menagerie was breached.

Howls of wolves echoed forth from the other side.
Hisses from larger serpents whispered on the wind.
The spiders crawled forth and the monsters arrived,

Night settled upon the place the girl had called her home,
For now it was filled with them,
Those beasts.

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#6


“It is time to wake up.”
The girl said to her slumbering partner, her eternal shadow.
The beast was roused from the stony floor of the cavern they had found themselves in, his large head shifting just lazily enough that one of those dark eyes could crack open in response to her call.
“The dream is ending.”
She said, getting to her own feet.
The girl shuffled over to the entrance to their refuge to look over the valley below,
A valley now bordered by the broken edges of what had been the Menagerie,
The bars and windows that had been their prison.
The beast raised his head, curious as to what she was searching for.
“Where will we go?” he asked.
The girl crossed her arms and continued to survey the forest.
She recalled when they had danced as wolves,
When they had become true monsters of the night.
She held back the mention of memories when she had considered the two of them as valiant as angels,
And another age when they had become hunters feared across the land.
Those dreams were so fond to look back on,
But she knew that they were in the past, never to be felt or collected or written again.
She opened up that ancient book that had caused such fear in her companion, her gaze tracing the forever dancing characters that drove most mad.
“There is only one place to go.” she finally replied.
Her bare feet left a soft sound upon the rocky ground as she made her way toward Belu.
She curled onto the ground so she could lean against him and placed the book there as well.
She rested her head upon its cover,
The blue light in her eyes fading as she closed them.
The beast let out a soft growl, a grumble of uncertainty, but spoke only a simple phrase as she was overtaken by sleep.
“Goodnight, Anabelle.”
And so she slept,
Taken off to a realm of that Nightmare she was always chasing.
When the sun rose again,
That cave was empty,
For both girl and beast had become nothing more
Than ink on blackened pages,
Where they would never be apart.

The End

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