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Distorted

Distorted

“Life is only a reflection of what we allow ourselves to see.”

In the midst of an identity crisis, an animal came across a pond. While usually still, the water of the pond was disturbed and rippled. When the animal gazed upon its reflection, it saw that it was a sheep. 

It trusted the reflection it saw in the pond, and believed itself to be a sheep.

But as much as it believed itself to be a sheep, none of the other animals seemed to agree. It grew more and more frustrated that the other sheep ran from it.

The harder it tried to get closer to the other sheep, the more afraid they seemed to become and the more they excluded it. Eventually, the animal felt the other sheep were bullying it, and was filled with rage.

The animal was filled with the uncontrollable desire to hurt the other sheep, to make them pay for the way they treated it.

Only in the still, calm waters of night when the moon reflected off the pond did it gaze again upon its reflection to see what the other animals truly saw.

It was no sheep after all. It was a wolf.

It had always been a wolf.

The wolf was mistaken by its own distorted image.

And as a wolf, the desire to hurt, kill and maim was not brought on by frustration and anger as the wolf had first thought.

It was merely part of its nature.

And the sheep were right to fear it.

Andrew Fish thought he was a lamb. He thought he was just like the others. Gentle, misunderstood.

But the other sheep never wanted to play, did they Andy?

They treated him differently, and he never knew why.

Because to him, the other kids were the same. So he tried and tried, but they never let him in.

Only when his life reached breaking point did he ever see what they saw.

That he was no sheep at all.

The Slaughterhouse is home to many beasts. Some are sheep that follow their leaders to slaughter, and some are wolves that prey on the weak.

But you’re the only one out there that has such a case of mistaken identity, Andrew Fish.

You are a wolf, Andy.

A nasty, disturbed beast with a thirst for blood.

You’ve allowed yourself to see a false, distorted reflection.

Sure, you wear sheep’s clothing, but that makes you no more a sheep than those that blindly follow the teachings of Sir Vant.

You take on quests that others would not, spill blood wilfully where others wouldn’t dare.

They asked you to stop me, because they fear the truth of my teachings.

And you were happy to oblige them.

By doing what wolves do best.

Hurting, hunting, maiming.

And what must we do with wolves?

Silence them before they get to the flock.

I see you for what you are, Andrew.

And I will not let a wolf run rampant.

Not even one that thinks it’s been a sheep all along.

Banzan