True Story

This, children, is the somewhat true story of the night I encountered the Swedish Deer-Wolf-Pig! 

Don’t let the name fool you.  These creatures are fierce. [Except you, Mom! Please skip down to the part where I’m okay.]

Now, where was I?  Oh yes! Once upon a time, on a night much like this, earlier this very evening in fact, I foolishly took a shortcut through the woods.  The night air was crisp and inviting as I began to skip merrily down the path toward the tiny, little castle of Åkeshofs Slott.

I love these woods, I thought to myself as my tattered shoes rhythmically scuffed the pavement.  The stars are beautiful . . . and why don’t people skip more often?!

“Full of good intentions, the little girl made her way through the wood, 

but she was soon to forget her mother's wise words.”

Little Red Riding Hood

Prancing past the castle I lost myself in the whispers of the forest.  There is something quite enchanting about being alone in the woods.  Still mulling over the idea of being a Princess, I slid to a stop on the gravely path. Something was rustling in the bushes to my left.  Holding my breath, I turned as quietly as I could.  There in the field stood two beautiful deer.

All three of us began to breath again. Hello, I said as I once again began to skip down the path. Please don’t run away; I won’t hurt you.

I could still taste the words on my lips, I won’t hurt you, when directly behind me a deep, foreboding growl/snort/bark pierced the night air.

Spinning on my heels I faced the unfriendly woods, timidly searching for the source of the growl/bark. Why didn’t I wear my stupid glasses? Maybe then I could see the big bad wolf before it eats me. Squinting into the darkness I could just make out the swaying tree and the dark mass that propelled it.  What could be making such a God-awful noise? And WHERE do I go? I glanced at the bench in front of me.  Like THAT would offer me any protection from the . . . from the what?

Another deer?  It growled again as I abandoned any hope of seeking safety on a two foot bench.

A wild boar?

Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she, 'sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is
With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.

William Shakespeare, “Venus and Adonis”

Nej! That can’t be right. And I doubt it reads Shakespeare!  I cautiously glanced over my shoulder, down the road from whence I came.  The woods had gone silent. With one quick breath I gathered my wits and stepped toward Åkeshofs Slott and the relative safety of the T-banna. But this brief moment of resolve was met with a chill down my spine.  The snorting bark was coming closer.

An image of every ferocious, tree-rustling, Sweden-living, nightmare-inducing animal rushed through my mind:

Get it together, woman! There isn't a puppet in the woods!

 With eyes locked on the woods, I began to move in some sort of half terrified, half courageous grapevine step toward the T-banna.  The growling continued to grow as I fumbled for me phone.

I need an honest answer.  What large, ferocious animal lives in these woods and makes a horrible growling bark?  Because I want to know what it is before I die.

What? Simon chuckled into the phone.

With a nervous laugh I tried to explain the noise. Although I could still hear the horrible creature, I was reassured by Simon’s repeated claim that the woods were free from wild boars, bears, wolves, and trolls.

It’s probably just a deer, Diane.

Yeah.  The ferocious, Swedish Deer-Wolf-Pig! 

 

And that, my friends, is the only slightly embellished true story of how I survived my harrowing encounter with the Swedish Deer-Wolf-Pig.

"We must always keep to the path and never stop. 

That way, we come to no harm!"

Little Red Riding Hood