The bean, it must be found. For MHD's Fairytales contest.

I have no idea why I wrote this. All I can say in my defense is that it seemed like a good idea at the ti--wait no that's a lie, I said, repeatedly that this was stupid and shameful every time I mentioned working on it.

The truth is I needed to publish something before the end of the year and there is CLEARLY a burning need for wolf stories in the psyche of children using the internet. But then they write them badly, or make their wolves behave like clans of cats. So here is a simple straightfoward story of a young wolf leaving his pack in search of a better life. Maybe no one will ever feel the need to write another one now, or if nothing else maybe this will give them ideas for how to do it in slightly more minimum-standards-meeting ways.

Final conclusion however is that writing about some dumb animal with no agency is not something I'd recommend.

If you don't know what this is for, then it isn't for you.

A short, educational piece. Please remain sensitive and respectful in the comment section. (I'd hate to have to report you to an admin for bullying me.)

(DO NOT READ if you're at all easily offended or lacking in a sense of humor. There's nothing graphic at all in here, but seriously, I still cannot stress it enough, this story is not for you.)



Dedicated to the good people of COG.

Vote here.

Story C: I Already Hate My Story, but I Hate All My Writing. Here It Is I Guess. All 868 Words Of It. “Once upon a time, there was a powerful duo, two brothers in all but blood. They had a large sum of money from their younger days, and they wanted to create a new nation, one better and purer than the filth of the mega-cities and crime-filled outer planets. They gathered lots of people and spent trillions on getting people to their new utopia. And that is where you come in. You have been chosen to be a part of their vision. But, the brothers had a problem. They didn’t know what the best way to create peace was. Say the name to hear each brother's speech.” You think for a moment, and then decide you want to hear Fidel’s speech first. “Fidel,” you say, and the screen in front of you lights up, revealing a large hairy man, extremely tan. He wears a camo military uniform and a beret, smoking a really big cigar. Like seriously, just buy two at that point. He begins to speak, with a deep booming voice and a heavy Cuban accent. “I am Fidel Markus, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Mars City, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Civitas, 'It belongs to everyone.' I reject that; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Colombia, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by morality, Where the strong would not be constrained by the weak! And with the sweat of your brow, Colombia can become your city as well.” You watch him speak, and he seems confident and strong. You want to pick him, but you go ahead and check the other option. “Andrew,” you call out to the elevator. You see a skinny white man in a suit, his nose and face scrunched tightly to the middle. He has mousy brown hair and blue eyes, but something about him projects power, and not good power either. He speaks powerfully with no noticeable accent. “My name is Andrew Ryan, and I’ve come to convince you to join me in my regime. Why should one person have more food than they ever could want, but another is starving as he watches the other. Why, should a man who works day and night in a mine make half as much money as a CEO drinking martinis in some in some building in the middle of a city? It’s not fair, is it? That’s why I, have decided we will all share. I will place everyone in the role best suited for them, and together we will thrive. So, choose Civitas, and together we will stand strong.” You mull over his words, you like what he’s saying about everyone equal, but you also like keeping what you work for. You’re still thinking as the elevator stops, and you see a tall man in a suit standing there. “Hey Jahseh, haven’t seen you in forever.” you say. “Haven’t seen you in a while either lil bro, have a good flight?” Jahseh asks. “Yeah it was good, they have nice cruisers, couldn’t even tell when we hit a wormhole.” “Well I’m glad, here, come with me, I wanna catch up with you in my room, you can register later.” “Lead the way.” He begins walking purposefully, heading through the gates of Colombia. You look around, and it almost perfectly resembles Havana, or what you’ve seen from the old videos and pictures. Right now it looks like a crater. It’s beautiful with clear blue water and a mix of rustic and new looking buildings. He leads you to a building that you assume is an apartment complex, and you take an elevator to the top. You walk down to room 705, and Jahseh opens the door for you. You walk in and see a meticulously clean apartment with a more modern look to it than the rest of the town. You sit down at the dining room table and he pours you both a glass of Krogonian whiskey, and you begin catching up, talking about what’s happened since you last saw each other, but then you hear a loud knock at the door, and Jaseh tells you to wait there for a moment. You hear the door open and close again, and hear him walking down the hall. You want to get up, but you think better of it, and sit for another hour, and he returns, looking disheveled. “What happened?” You ask, concerned. He grabs his glass of whiskey and downs the thing in one gulp. He begins telling you the story. “You know how the two brothers who run this place have vastly different ideologies? Well I’m a middle man, advising them both. But they began fighting. I managed to calm them down but their lieutenant went on the warpath, guns blazing. Lot’s of civilian casualties. I had to hunt and kill every one of the bastards. Well, it’s over now. Or it is for now. Anyways, how have you been?”