Finalist in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

I am not a terrorist. They don’t know my ‘once upon a time’, so in their stories, I am a big bad wolf. They make themselves scared of me, but the truth is so much simpler: all I am is a wolf without a home, who needs to protect his family and has seen his brothers fight each other like animals. I have nowhere to go – so I turn to the pigs.
“Wolves not welcome!” It’s hard to ignore this as the pigs shout. Apparently I don’t belong. As they stare, I become small and insignificant in their eyes; my tail curling between my legs in an attempt to make myself invisible. The life slowly drains from me as I put one paw in front of the other. Some turn away as I try to approach them whilst others slam their doors and draw their blinds. I can see light inside and sense movement of those within, but they only see a big bad wolf.
“You’re not our problem!” I suppose the entitled sow thought she was a hero confronting a villain. Leaving the straw house behind, I move village to village, carrying only the clothes on my back. Piglets cry and run at the sight of me and I cry too, thinking of my own pups. One cannot call themselves desperate until they must leave their young to go searching for a better life. No one answers their doors but I’ll never give up hope – it’s all I have left.
“We help enough! You’ll give nothing back!” He lived in a small house of sticks. Enough? There is no such thing as ‘enough’. It’s a natural thing to want more because we’re animals. There will always be more wolves needing homes because there will always be someone to make them leave. In my homeland, I was the best farmer in the village and thought I could farm to make a new life for my family here. Pigs don’t need farmers apparently.
“You won’t be settled here!” I hope this isn’t true – pigs lie all the time anyway. Still, the Mayor has these words everywhere and I am angry now. What did I do to deserve this? In the distance I can see a beautiful looking house. My last hope is strong, stable and made of bricks. Pigs and wolves alike are jealous of this sanctuary. There, nothing is impossible and dreams come true. I reach out my paw to try and grasp some of those dreams for myself but instead I: knock, knock. Strangely enough, it is you who opens the door.
The pigs say all these things because they don’t understand me. But as I stand at the doorstep of the last house I fear this is what you will say. I’m looking at you now, hoping you will understand, that you will help me.
I am just like you.
I am not a big bad wolf.
You know my story, so will you let me in?


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