Infernal Spectres and SJW's

I was standing in the woods outside my village.

I didn't know how I got there.

The Impossible One was out there with me...

he said,

"Kid, you gotta stop. It's not doin' it. It's not never gonna do it for ya."

I inquired, "what, pray tell, are you referring to?"

I didn't see the cigar or whatever it was that he had. It appeared as if he held two fingers to his lips and inhaled. The night bloomed around him. Green leaves swam purple and blue and back to dark.

"You jus' gotta' cut it. That's what we're all doin'. Maybe, for you, in particular, that means feelin' the love. Whatever that is."

He exhaled. The smoke plumed around like I was suddenly and then no longer in a cotton-packed room.

"I don't understand."

He grinned and choked a laugh.

"Why am I out here?"

He looked bored; rolled his head slow. "Look, kid. The problem with all you youngin's is that you don't realize that you matter. You rail. You scream and stamp your tiny little special feet. You're all askin' for the same, tired, unimpressive thing. 'take me serious before I can take myself serious.' It don't work so good, as an argument an' all."

Still, confounded, I further inquired from the devilish agent. "Can you be a bit more specific? For I am a village hand for a bakery. I help to feed the goats. I keep a keen eye on the elders and their daily needs. I give them some ease and comfort in their life. I enjoy that much, as repugnant as it may seem. I am not so unfavored in my community. I am growing up, as I am told. I'm appreciated. I am loved by many. I have an abundant life. It is mostly boring, I wish for more excitement, I dream of it often. However, I am not so unhappy. I would, with my whole heart, defend it."

He looked provoked. "Good for you kid. That's good. There ain't no doubt. An' I almost hate to break it to ya but there's them wolves. The baying chompers. The cunning twisted ends that know how to bide their time like no other scary thing you can imagine. When they're not weighin' in, they're plannin' it. That's all. That's it. Jus' get it. There's not so much more growin' up after that. It's all nuance and gettin' along after that. And even that is easy once you've proven you can keep them wolves, in the full hungry press of Winter, away. But you gotta' know da wolves. You gotta' stand tall in that respect. Ugh, I'm diatribin'."

He ran a hand down his face.

"The wolves will teach you or end you. That's how lessons work. Call me Mr. Brutal. I'm the softest pup in the pack. G'night kiddo. Try not to turn into an SJW in your next 100 lives."

To that I fell asleep. To be honest, I felt privileged, uniquely special, to have met such an infernal spirit as he. Most children only tell stories passed down to them. Although, to this day I wonder, perhaps it was the fermented juniper berry. And perhaps that was merely a necessary ingredient. Either way, his words stuck. As they will in you.