Story example: Camillia the Terrier of Staffordshire – 07/09/19

Camillia the Terrier of Staffordshire lived a life of great fun. She was fed treats and walked twice daily, she was known all over town. For her jolly attitude she was appreciated throughout the place, she always had a silly, quirky smile plastered across her face. On her daily walks, she liked to take off with a trot and then a run, cantering occasionally, galloping slightly, she had learned from a horse nearby, he had taught her his speeds as she’d wanted to learn. She was unique in this way, in that she was a dog with the characteristics of her friend Tommy the Horse, even when she was offered a carrot, Camillia said, “Yes please, of course!” Now who had heard of a dog liking raw carrots, it was akin to a herbivore wanting to eat raw maggots. It simply did not make sense across the town, and plus: Camillia’s yellowy golden fur was beginning to turn a horsey auburn brown.

She must have been spending too much time with her friend Tommy, perhaps by simply being together, Camillia was absorbing the characteristics of the other, becoming more horsey and less herself, so previously jolly. Now she commandeered the abilities to gallop and prance, to gnaw on a carrot, to switch from light fur to deep darkness, wasn’t this interesting, to view of the scope, of her skills that she was beginning to truly hone?

Soon, Camillia wasn’t recognised across town. She was now tall, with lean, long legs, with a space for a rider on her back, to take control. She barely even resembled her former self, now she glanced in a nearby mirror at her reflection, and wasn’t she very much in doubt! She did not understand the image before her, she looked nothing like her former mental pictures, and now, in such a quick span of time, she had gone from Staffordshire terrier, to a clone of her friend Tommy. She rushed away from her owner, allowing the leash to drag behind her, to frantically discover Tommy within his closed off shelter.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!” she called. Where was he, when she needed him the most? Then looking down, to a small corner in the hay, was a little puppy, yay high, with a Terrier of Staffordshire’s face. Bamboozled, shocked beyond belief, she understood that this was Tommy, begging to speak, without knowing how to doggy speak. How had he been transformed? This was so terrible, so difficult to understand, yet here they were, with altered and almost identically swapped appearances at hand. Could they reverse this strange spell of nature, by being together for much, much longer? They tried but to no avail, and they both decided to just live together in the stable. Soon the other creatures and humans would forget, of these two unlikely friends, only their owner, who was shocked, yet proudly amazed, would continue to feed and groom these animals night and day.

Who performed this strange spell, I don’t think we shall ever know, but one day in the future, perhaps the spell master, the grand teacher, will step forth and reverse this cruel spell. And then this individual will allow Tommy and Camillia to live their lives out good and well, and in the future leave any cruel transformation ideas alone.

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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Story example: Wigglebutt the Polar Bear With Questionably Coloured Hair – 01/08/19

Wigglebutt was an exceptionally happy bear. He loved to dig, and chase and run with animals and his fellow bears almost everywhere. Of his ecstatic nature he loved to express, through his wagging little tail and pouffy fluffy butt from left to right, great joy, of life he was always dutifully impressed. His cute little fluffy bear bottom was unique all of its own, no other bear’s bum could compare, no rounded shape or volume of hair, nothing to compare of their own!

One day, a polar bear approached him, with a sneer across his face. “Why are you the wrong colour, what’s that tan along your face?” With shock at the bear’s disdain he ran toward the nearest mirror, Wigglebutt had always thought of his visual differences a great asset to himself, from standing out from the others. His tan and white complexion caused a contrast among the polar bears and wood bears, who comfortably and lovingly lived together in a means and upon a land that with Earth could not compare. And never once had he been told that he was too different, or wrong, or some such, he was always embraced by the animal crowd, he was always deemed more than enough. Now this such and such had to put in his two cents worth, and activating insecurities inside Wigglebutt, it was unfair, and his words were unwanted, his opinion was undesirous, Wigglebutt had had enough!

Wigglebutt returned and pointed a finger into the mean polar bear’s chest.

“Who are you to say I’m different, why, perhaps you could not compare!” And then suddenly a thoughtful smile came across the nasty bear’s face, “Perhaps you are right, dear wrongly coloured animal, touché touché, your words are so nice.” His biting sarcasm hurt an innocent Wigglebutt to the core, he could not stand this verbal abuse and his tone anymore. With a broken sense of pride, he walked away, walked on by, and into his den he hid, uncaring for hiding his emotions now, proceeded to cry.

“My darling, what’s wrong?” his mother asked, rubbing his back. Wigglebutt simply shook his head left and right, with his wracked sobbing, he couldn’t enunciate the facts. She knew something untoward had happened, and when he was able to squeak out the words, “I have the wrong coloured fur!” she understood the moment in his life had come to explain where he truly was from.

With careful wording, she explained first that he was deeply loved, by herself and his father, Professor Earl Grey the Curl. He had a curly tail that was different to her and Wigglebutt, and he was not afraid of his visual difference at all.

“You see how Father is different,” she said gently. “Well, so too are you different from your father and I. You are much loved, and our precious, adored son, but you came from a world where there was too much for you to learn and for you to be unfairly used throughout your life. We rescued you from a meteorite, come from the Planet Earth, where you would have been worked, worked, worked, like a slave bear, into their earth. But someone who loved you, your owner, the letter inside your capsule said, that she was willingly sending you away so you wouldn’t end up overworked to death. You are not born of this world, nor myself, nor your father, but please, understand, we love you all the more stronger. We cherish your being, we cherish your life, each day we are thankful that you came into our lives.”

WIgglebutt stood stunned, barely wanting to understand this, his mother’s words of which she was rapidly and shakily speaking. This was why he was different, why he was not a pristine polar bear white like his parents, but this did not stop him from future life successes. There was nothing wrong with being different, in fact, unique was always in style, he stood out from the others, with his bobbing, cute little bum and tail. And he didn’t allow others’ negativity to ever again get him down, he would succeed at his life so wholly, he was meant to wear life’s crown.

On his eighteenth birthday, his mother and father proudly produced the capsule’s note from his former owner, the first of many sentences:

“Dear Georgie, you are my favourite corgi, with you, I send you away with love, to a better life yonder.” Thereafter followed deep explanation of why his life would be better away from Earth, elsewhere, safer, somewhere he could be filled with wonder. The mystery of his life was now solved: he was a Royal breed of canine, not an oddly coloured polar bear, now proudly certain, to everyone his truth could be told. He was the only known Corgi on this land to behold and wasn’t he so chuffed that he would no longer be a different unknown.

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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Story example: Sorrow the Bulldog – 14/07/19

Sorrow always hoped for more…

(c) By Alice Well (LMH)

Sorrow the Bulldog was always hopeful for more. More treats, more pats, more walks around the park, more trips to the pet store, “More for me!” she always thought. The pet store was her favourite for it held so many things, so many items, foods, treats, even collars that were bright and bling bling. 

Sometimes her owner didn’t have the time to play, or take her out on a particularly boring and rainy day, for he had work of his own to perform, Sorrow was made to wait, and she didn’t want to accept any other terms than ‘now’, let alone ‘soon’. 

So she’d plonk herself before her owner, glancing up then deeply into his eyes, her permeating sorrow more than visible, watery worlds swimming in her eyes. She had been cooped up for the past three days, surely it was time, that this was the day, for an outing so sweet, perhaps a new treat?? Even browsing would suffice, it would lift her from her grumbling mood, but wait, wait, made to wait, it made her stomach nervously churn, caused her to feel unwell.

Then her owner gathered his documents in a pile, arranged neatly, in a punctual style, and rushing forth emotions of joy from Sorrow, the joy did fly, they were set to go out, patience had paid off!

That afternoon Sorrow was sporting a new pink collar, fitted with fifty seven diamantés, she was the height of fashion, worthy of a pet magazine cover, and the sorrow had somewhat dissipated, at least for the day, grumbling and sadness blown clean away.

by Alice Well (LMH) (c)

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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