# The Story

The screams were drowned out by the rat-tat-tats of laughter. All were engaged. All were on a razor's edge. All were ready for "The" Story. When the dark became flesh. When the rat-tat-tats became giggling. When the first of the babies were slaughtered. Then it would be heard.

So said the big bad wolf. "I'm going to tell you the end of 'The Story,' but first... Who has a tale for the greedy little pigs we call our friends?" Immediately the scarecrow jumped up. This is the fable he told:

"There were twelve of them, one-eyed dirty crumbles. It was early spring. Golems were rising from the winter doldrums. Witches were scrambling, trying to find unsuspecting virgins to tell lies to. Minotaurs were digging new graves. All in all, it was business as usual in Jumble World.

The coolest of the crumbles, 'Supra,' wore a transparent eye patch. She isn't the most important part of this story, but she is the catalyst of the filling of the minotaurs' labors.

Footsie and Bangladesh were in love. More than that, they saw the truth about each other. So when Supra tried to rally the other crumbles against them, they fled.

Footsie carried Bangladesh through the blueberry thickets, rode double on a monkadonkey on the black plains of carbon dust, and finally settled in the forest of cherry trees on the edge of Jumble World. They started a small fire and, after a simple supper of blueberries and cherries, were told this story by a passing copycat:

'Back in ancient times, before the world was jumbled, a lemming named Desiree was soon to be named queen of the mysterious GG people. On that night, while smooth rockets burst into rainbow geometric patterns in the night sky, she sat down with her 650 children and told this tale:

In the darkest region of Jumble World, it was a joyous day... Five births and ten deaths. The best day ever. Among the newborn was the big bad wolf. So if you don't mind, I'll let him tell us the ending of "The" Story, so you can finally realize the wonder of it All.'"

And so it was that the Big Bad Wolf emerged from the shadows, his silver fur gleaming like polished coins in the dim light. His eyes were not cruel as many tales would have you believe, but filled with a wisdom that only comes to those who have witnessed the turning of many seasons.

"Listen well," said the Wolf, settling on his haunches before the crackling fire. The assembled creatures leaned forward, for when the Wolf spoke, even the wind paused to hear his words.

"The ending of 'The' Story is not what you expect, for true stories never truly end, but merely change their form, like water becoming ice, then mist, then rain again.

"In the darkest region of Jumble World, where the five births and ten deaths had made it such a joyous day, there lived an old mirror. Not a grand mirror in a gilded frame such as you might find in a queen's chamber, but a small, cracked thing that had passed through many hands. The mirror had a strange property it showed not just a reflection, but what lay in the hearts of those who gazed upon it.

"The newborn Wolf was carried before this mirror by his mother, who wished to know what sort of creature she had brought into the world. When she held me to the glass, the mirror showed not a wolf cub, but a thousand spinning tales, a whirlwind of stories that had not yet been told.

"The mirror spoke then, in a voice like distant bells: 'This one will be the Keeper of Tales, the one who remembers when others forget. But beware for every story he tells, he must consume a truth.'

"My mother was frightened, but she was also wise. 'Then I shall teach him to hunger only for the truths that poison their keepers,' she said.

"And so I grew, gathering stories as other wolves gather meat for their winter stores. I learned that every creature in Jumble World carries a story within them, like a second heart beating beneath the first.

"This is what the Crumbles never understood. This is why Supra's transparent eye patch could never truly help her see. She looked outward for power, while Footsie and Bangladesh looked inward and found something far more precious, they found their story, shared between them like a secret language.

"The GG people knew this wisdom too, which is why they chose Desiree as their queen. For Desiree understood that the 650 children were not truly hers, they belonged to their own tales, which would unfold with or without her guidance.

"And now I must tell you the true end of 'The' Story, which is no end at all, but a beginning disguised as an ending, as all the best finales are.

"When the dark becomes flesh, it is not through violence or slaughter, but through the simple act of speaking aloud what we keep hidden. The rat-tat-tats become giggling not from cruelty, but from the sudden joy of recognition , the realization that we are all characters in each other's stories.

"The babies are not slaughtered , they are transformed. For each time a story is told, something new is born within the listener, and something old must be set aside to make room for it.

"So it has always been in Jumble World, since before it was jumbled, and so it shall continue long after we who sit around this fire tonight have become nothing but characters in someone else's tale.

"Remember this, little ones," said the Wolf, his voice growing soft as the fire burned low. "The end of 'The' Story is that there is no end. There is only the moment when one storyteller falls silent, and another clears their throat to begin."

And so it was that the assembled creatures sat in silence for a long while after the Wolf had spoken. Some say they sit there still, waiting for another tale. Others insist they scattered to the corners of Jumble World, each carrying a fragment of 'The' Story within them.

But perhaps and here I speak directly to you, dear reader , perhaps they simply understood what the wisest among us have always known: that every ending is simply the place where you stop telling the tale, not where the tale stops unfolding.

For in Jumble World, as in our own, stories do not end. They merely change their tellers.