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Betrayal By Beaver

The pain within our chest throbs with the beat of betrayal. Where once a heart lay there is now a void filled with haunting dreams, crippling agony, and infinite torment. A void that out of necessity could no longer entertain a heart physically or in hope. To bring existence into this void would only cause a depth from which we could never return. To survive is to lose ourselves so we can remain found. Whatever may rear its head from this void next, well we will know we have done our best to contain it.

 

You know how the song goes....

"beaver's on my shoulders make me happy, beavers on my shoulders make me cry!"

 

A wound unlike any other. A wound that the physical depth is but a fraction of the damage. The true damage lies within the shattered heart, unbound tears, and twisted guts of our soul. A thousand swords each taking their own pound of our flesh would be gentler, kinder, preferable. Yet, we do not get the option to chose our wounds, we only get the opportunity and choice on how to bear them upon our body and soul. The physical wound may have healed long ago, but the nerves never repaired, a chaotic connection of loose wiring inside of us remains. The poison of betrayal still pumps through our veins, burning, singeing, obliterating what we hold dear, love.


Yet, love was the impetus and the cause. To love is to find unfathomable joy, but to love is also to invite infinite suffering. We will always love, for once love is truly lost, there is no coming back. So we shall love. Love in pain. Love in agony. Love in betrayal. We shall love because love will be our way through.


Yes, if you do not already know it at this point, let us state it clearly. Let us state our love for our cutest tiniest and most squeezable furry friends. Let us state our joy in watching their teeth nibble their way into our hearts. Let us state our happiness in viewing them frolic in the water, as their tails echo a harmony across the waves. Let us state clearly and simply, we love beavers.


If you have not seen a beaver in the wild, we highly recommend gazing upon their majesty. Every movement they make is a song, every buck tooth grin they give you is a symphony, every wiggle of their chunky bodies is the melody at the very heart of creation itself. If you can gaze upon a beaver without walking away with a smile, well we will kindly ask you to leave humanity alone and crawl back into the pits of darkness by which you came.

 

You know how there is "Where's Waldo".... Well lets play a different game.

 

Yes, we love beavers. That is why it is so painful to tell you of their betrayal. It hurts us even to blemish their name with the sheer mention, but we need to heal, we need to forgive, and we need to once again find happiness in their embrace, and telling this story may be the only way.


It began back upon a powerfully named creek, inside a powerfully named park. We were walking along Beaver Creek, in Beaver State Park, only joy and pure glee should have been present. It was the most beautiful inception of the world we knew possible. Beavers, within Beaver Creek, within Beaver State Park. The layers of joy should have been infinite. Yet, instead we found destruction.


As we happily chattered away as we were taking a break, we began to fill our water bottles. The giddiness of being surrounded so fully be multiple beavers tangible and intangible was almost too much to bear. Our hearts were overflowing, just as much as our water bottles. So, as we capped off our bottles, we were once again lost in the joy of movement. An hour, then two went by as we began to sip from our bottles. We were drinking beaver water from Beaver Creek, inside of Beaver State Park, while gazing and daydreaming about beavers. If you have found a nirvana greater than that, well it is not possible.


Then the poisoned knife was plunged directly into our hearts. Our brow began to sweat, our body began to feel like fragile glass that would shatter upon the next step, our inferno of love was now a physical inferno of heat rising against our skin. We hoped, we prayed, we invoked all the gods we knew for it not to be true. The beavers had led us to tainted water, had tainted the water that was now poisoning our body from the inside out.


The next 24 - 48 hours were a rollercoaster of emotions. Questions of existence rocked our minds. How could we continue to exist in a world, where all we knew and loved, had betrayed us so fully. How could we find joy again, when we only saw darkness. We were striped bare and rebuilt. Who is to say whether or not what was built again is stronger, but what we do know now is that we can endure.

 

Just a hiker doing what a hiker does best, looking for beavers.

It was outside of the cave Magpie, no need to go further in!

 

As the initial physical pain subsided, it gave us a lifetime to reflect. We had survived, broken but breathing. Even now as the poison has subsided, we feel tainted, and we don't know if that will ever heal. Yet, that is okay, for now we have to be okay with just being, continuing, living against all odds after the betrayal of our furry friends.


As we have had more time to reflect, we begin to see the beavers are not the only ones to blame. They may have wielded the dagger and the poison, but we are just as guilty. A weapon can be used maliciously or not, and we have to believe the beavers were not malicious in their attack. If we believed anything else it would be too much to bear. They had sharpened their weapon of water borne illness through many meals day after day, month after month, that were repurposed back into the stream. We could have provided a sheath to blunt the edges of the dagger, but instead we ran full steam directly into it. We drank the water unfiltered. We are just as much to blame.


So, we shall forgive. We shall begin to try and heal. We shall hope. Hope that one day again, we can see a beaver in the wild without nausea in our stomachs and pain in our hearts. We shall love again. Because you cannot spell love, without beaver.


Sincerely,

ElevenSkys


We hope you have smiled at the end of this story, it was meant as a little lightheartedness as the winter begins to fully set in.


Without humor, we are just intelligent beavers.


P:S: Whew! That was weird one, wasn't it?


Anyway, what this story was trying to say with its heavy metaphors and weirder imagery, is that it is highly recommended to filter your water when beavers are in the water source. Their excrement can cause serious illness. We luckily had a brief spell with... honestly we do not know what, but it was intense. We drank unfiltered water and payed the price. Heavily recommend against.


P:S:S: It was not a metaphor when we said we love beavers. We love beavers.