Kift sighed deeply as he donned his jester outfit. Sure, the ruffled collar, the patchwork jumpsuit, and the stupid three-pronged hat with bells at the tips promised him food, lodging, and a job at Marquis Ronucci’s court, but it was also a collar, chaining him to a life of degradation and loneliness. No one would ever take time to understand him. And why should they? They were nobility, and he was a fool. They were normal, and he was a kirsute, bound to his current life.

      A kirsute, as Kift had learned from his master the Marquis, was a person that attracted royal curiosity. Dwarfs, midgets, giants, and other unfortunates of nature were all part of this group, as was he. Yet Kift wasn’t just any midget. Oh no, he was far more rare then that. Kift was a wonder among wonders, a freak among freaks; he was the wolf man.

     Yes, that was the name that they had given him. And why not? Kift had been born with hair all over his face, legs, arms, and torso, resembling from his first moment on Earth the creature from legend that nobles and peasants alike feared. Besides the hair, Kift had long, slender hands with fingers ending with pointed claws. The Marquis had made him file his nails to a point, saying that they “made him look the part.”

     More like a freak, he meant.

     But that was what people wanted to stare at, a freak. They wanted a court jester that they could both laugh with and laugh at, so here he was, all dressed up and ready to go. Kift stared at the full-length mirror in front of him and bared his filed teeth. The Marquis had made him do that too, to enhance his oddness. It was better for entertainment. And what was better for entertainment was better for the Marquis’ reputation. It didn’t matter that Kift hadn’t wanted his teeth to be filed.

      The bell that told him to go out rang, a nagging, jeering sound. Even the bells were laughing at him, just like everyone else. Yet it was better to be laughed at then be burned at the stake for being the spawn of Satan, just as his brother had been, about five years ago. Kift closed his eyes, and for a moment imagined he could hear the shrieks and cries of his sibling as he died that miserable death. Kift hadn’t been able to do anything but hide. Even now, whenever he thought of it, he could feel rage creeping up and driving him almost to murder.... But he knew if he let himself be ruled by emotion, he would meet a similar, ungodly fate. So, steadying himself for the jeers and ridicule he always received, Kift stepped into the passageway that led to the party, and bust through his personal door, into the blinding light of a thousand candles in the main hall.

      Almost immediately, a gasp was torn from the throat of over a hundred guests at Marquis Ranucci’s grand party. The waltz music silenced and was replaced by a fast, dizzying tune that Kift was to perform to. He, of course, was something that nearly all the guests present had seen multiple times, but they never got tired of the tingle he sent up their spines. The guests were delighted that the Marquis had provided such wonderful entertainment for them. A real live wolf man! How great is that?

      Going through long practiced steps, Kift answered their gasps with an unearthly howl, and dropped on all fours to scuttle animal-like around the tables and guests. Shrieks and cries of delight and fear, as well as jeers and insults, assaulted his ears. He heard two women remarking how ridiculous the wolf-man looked in his jester’s outfit. One man said to the other that the beast ought to be locked in a cage; he was too dangerous and wild to be around “civilized” people. Talk as they may, Kift knew that an ordinary jester wouldn’t amuse them half as much as he did. They wanted to see the freak make a mockery of himself, so that they would be able to talk about how great they were. That’s what they wanted, and that’s what he gave them.

      Playing on their fear, Kift suddenly rose on his legs and made an attempt at a roar. It wasn’t very convincing, but it served its purpose. The crowd gasped and pulled away from him. He could see various emotions in their faces. Some regarded him with fear, others with disgust, and a rare face in the crowd showed genuine feelings of pity for him, poor monstrosity that he was. Most of the faces, though, were laughing, like some horrible, hundred-headed ogre that delighted in the misery of others. Kift felt tired and sick; sick of being these people’s “wolf-man,” tired of being treated worse then the common hunting dog, and sick of his life. He remembered all the times where he had contemplated suicide, and wondered weather he should do it now, with all these people watching, and rob them of their favorite entertainment. It was but a small dose of revenge, but that was better than nothing.

      A booming, self-satisfied voice rang through the hall, interrupting Kift’s thought of self-annihilation. “Down, boy, down!” It was Marquis Ranucci.

      The Marquis was a middle-aged, somewhat plump man. A life of leisure and wealth had given him a smug countenance, the kind that you wanted to punch because it radiated how superior he was to the rest of the world. For the occasion, the Marquis had dressed in an expensive, gold-trimmed suit, complete with a broad- brimmed hat with a peacock feather stuck in one side. He now took off this hat and bowed to a group of court women, who answered by giggling ridiculously and hiding their painted faces behind lace fans.

      Marquis Ranucci turned his attention back to Kift, looking at him like he was something that one of the Marquis’ cats had just brought in. “Beast,” the Marquis began with a sneer,” you’re frightening our guests. Be good and heel now, won’t you?”  Swallowing his dignity, Kift made a humble bow and slunk over to his master, sitting down and fawning at his feet. The Marquis grinned broadly, like a child with a new toy, and turned towards his audience.

      “Dearest friends, I do sincerely hope that you all are enjoying the ball. The food, the music, and of course, the entertainment were all groomed to perfection for your pleasure.”  The crowd burst into laughter, and Kift growled in anger. The Marquis beamed and continued.

       “Tonight, on my birthday, I wish you all good fortune and long life. I have been a fortunate man, one with money, fame, and good looks.”  The guests giggled. “But still, I would like for us all to remember those who are less fortunate then us. For those who are suffering terribly in the world, for those who could use comfort, warmth, and shelter, and for those thrown into situations beyond their control, I would like to make a toast. Raise your glasses, then, my friends!”  The Marquis cried out, “and let us acknowledge God’s children: the poor, the meek, and the misunderstood.” The guests gave a hearty cheer and clinked glasses, remarking to one another what a great man Ranucci was. Kift couldn’t believe his ears.

      How could they, how could they, how dare they say such thing with the likes of him in the room!?   Talk about the weak, the poor, the misunderstood like that, then dress him up as a clown and laugh at him! What hypocrisy, madness, what stupidity! He watched them as if through a funhouse mirror, gazing at these persons who saw nothing wrong with preaching about the unfortunate, and then spitting on a freak like him.

      But that was it, wasn’t it? He was a freak, and the poor they were talking about were not. Because of the hair on his face, they would continue to treat him worse then a dog. He now saw that no matter how intelligent, kind, or eloquent he was, the world would never forgive him for the way he looked. Kift silently slunk out of the room, seething, looking for a quiet spot where he could howl out his misery alone.

     A single candle flickered despondently in one corner of Kift’s cell of a room, creating more shadow than light. Kift didn’t care; he liked it better in the dark. Light pained his eyes, and this way he could hardly see his hairy arms. It helped him forget, at least for a brief moment, what an oddity he was. In fact, for a while he could even pretend that he was normal, living a regular, blissful life…“Ho, wolf man.” Kift snapped out of his daydream, looking up at the Marquis as he tromped into the room. Kift never felt like talking to this man, especially after the last party he had thrown. But a man was a man, and a dog was a dog, so he was obliged to listen.

      Looking around, the Marquis leaned forward and stuck his hairless face close to Kift’s. “Listen, Kift. In two days’ time, I’m attending a wedding and I want to look good for the ceremony. So, I’m going to dress well for the occasion, and I want you to wait on me.” Kift’s eyes widened in surprise. Never before had Rannuci ever asked him to do anything but be a fool, or called him by his first name. And now he was to be the Marquis personal attendant at such a big event? Rannuci must’ve seen the surprise in Kift’s face, for he curtly told Kift, “Mind you, I have servants that could do a better job, but I think you ought to be introduced to the outside world. Such an occasion would be a perfect time, don’t you think?” Kift could only nod dumbly, and thought about the Marquis’ speech the other night. Maybe this man really was going to try to live up to his words by taking pity on a wolf-man like him.

      The Marquis abruptly turned his back on Kift. “ I ordered a suit for you, and it’s rather expensive so mind that you don’t ruin it. My servants must look good. Oh, and waiting on me for this occasion isn’t going to be that hard. All you have to do is stand behind me and say ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir,’ got it? I’ll only expect the best.”

       Kift nodded, feeling, for the first time in a long time, a little happy. Never before had the Marquis wanted to take him anywhere, or even have him dress like a normal person. Yes, Kift did feel happy. He actually did want to go. Of course, he could easily become a source of entertainment, but it was a risk he would have to take.

      Rannuci smiled. “Good, then. Meet me at the main door two days from now, and don’t keep me waiting.” Kift responded with another silent nod and attempted to sound human, but could only growl “yes, sir.” With that, the Marquis walked out of the small room that was Kift’s abode, and went off to do whatever it is the rich and bored do in their spare time. Having no riches, but plenty of boredom, Kift resumed his daydreaming, running his tongue over his filed teeth, and dreaming of his first suit of normal clothes.

       He had never been to another noble’s mansion before, and wondered whether it was as big as Rannuci’s. More importantly, how would this new cast of characters react to his countenance? Fascinated yet disgusted, no doubt, just like everyone else. Nothing was ever going to change there. Yet, for once in his lifetime, he was going to get to dress at least somewhat regularly, and observe what normal people got to do that was joyous and happy. And all he had to do was stay close to Rannuci’s side.

      A sudden nasty thought flashed past Kift’s mind. He was going to be very close to the Marquis, and the pig would be suspecting no threats at something like a wedding. It would be very easy for him to…. no; he wasn’t going to do that. He may look like an animal, but he wasn’t going to act worse than one.

      “Yet that is what I want to do,” he whispered to himself. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now. And who wouldn’t? Many would say that I’m fully justified to commit such an act. After all, they’ve enslaved me for all these years, burned my brother, forced me to be a wolf, and laughed at me. I’m not the real animal, they are! They want me to be just like them, don’t they? They want me to act worse than a wolf, and do what wolves do. But that has been my desire for such a long time, such a long time…” Kift ground his teeth together, and bit his tongue. He yelped in pain, a felt blood trickle down his chin. He wiped it away, and noticed it was red. For some reason, this made Kift giggle, a thin, eerie note. He remembered when he first became Rannuci’s fool, a noble woman remarked how his blood must be black, like a demon’s. Kift giggled again. These nobles did so want to see unnatural monsters to be their amusement, didn’t they? Well, he’d give them unnatural. It all was to take place in two days….

Kift bowed humbly and helped Rannuci out of the carriage. The mansion lay in front of them, cheerily lit by candles that scratched away feebly against the broad night sky. It was a grand sight indeed, one that has all but faded from the current world, as candles were replaced by gaslights and old mansions slowly decay and return to the Earth that supported them. Kift, however, took no real notice of the majestic scenery, or any of his surroundings for that matter. All he could see was the images in his head that he kept replaying over and over. They all seemed so sweet, and he shuddered with joy to think that they would soon become a reality. Yet he had to turn his attention to the Marquis for now. That was what he was here for, wasn’t it?

       As the two entered the main hall, Kift could feel many eyes bore through the back of his skull. It seemed to Kift that this world reacted to him in the same way that those creatures at Rannuci’s palace did. But that didn’t matter now; the scene was set, the party was on, and two people were about to tie the knot of marriage, pledging to love each other to the end of time. It was some sort of happiness, Kift felt, which he would never know.

       Kift followed the Marquis further into the midst of the party, attracting many stares along the way. Kift pretended that they were just looking at his new, normal clothes. Despite himself, Kift had been very pleased with the new suit the Marquis had made for him. It was a fine piece of work, and in the latest fashion, too, with embroidered sleeves, a fine lace collar, and gold buttons running down the front. Kift felt more human just wearing such clothes, though he knew that they weren’t going to make the hair on his body disappear.

      Rannuci seemed pleased with himself; he liked attention, almost more than he liked his fine clothes and food. “And so he uses me,” Kift thought privately. “I’m just a rare animal to parade around to him, aren’t I?” He licked his lips and gave a small growl, frightening a group of guests nearby.

      Kift looked around him, at the smiling faces, at the happy people, at those that nature had chosen to favor. He had heard preachers speak on how all were equals under God’s eye. Kift couldn’t help but laugh. All children under God’s eye, hm? There was no such thing as equality. The truth of the world was much more sinister then these people liked to make it out to be. Of course, they didn’t especially suffer from such sayings.

      Such thoughts made Kift feel a certain animal rage; one that burned him up inside and out, and made him feel like the wolf everyone claimed he was. He stared around the laughing crowd again, letting his twitching eyes roamed the room, until they finally rested on Marquis Rannuci. Kift felt all the nerves in his body jumping, wanting, wanting at least some small satisfaction in life. Was it so bad to want? These people did it every day unchastised, and happy, floating through life like jellyfish, unaware of everything but their own desires and needs. Kift sighed, and went behind the Marquis. He was there as a servant, a normal, working person, he reminded himself, not a beast.

       “Ah, Kift,” Rannuci said, suddenly noticing him. “Let me introduce you to some of my good friends.” Kift bowed and looked into the faces of the Marquis’ comrades in inherited wealth. They all looked as rich and as bored as Rannuci, although their eyes widened in surprise as they saw Kift’s hairy countenance. One of them nudged the other and snickered. Another kept his eyes plastered on Kift’s face, his mouth stupidly hanging open, seemingly unable to believe what he saw.  All of it was making Kift feel uncomfortable, so he bowed again hastily and tried to make a quick exit.

      “Where do you think you’re going, wolf-man?” The Marquis’ voice, suddenly cold and contemptuous, froze Kift in his tracks. He turned around slowly, noticing that a crowd had gathered behind Rannuci. Some of the faces were laughing, others were whispering to each other, and more still were giving him looks of pure disgust. Kift realized then that the Marquis had had no noble intention in bringing him here; he was to be, as always, the noble’s fool.

       “Fetch, boy!” someone in the crowd yelled, and threw a bone at Kift’s feet. Everyone burst out laughing, and started to whistle as one would to call a dog, calling out “here boy, come here!” in a chorus that made Kift grind his teeth and snarl. In the center of it all, Marquis Rannuci stood, grinning, proud of himself for bringing the best entertainment possible to the wedding.

       Kift glared at the jeering faces that surrounded him, feeling blood rush to his head. None of them cared about him as a person, they could only see him as an animal, a beast, another trained dog. Slowly uncurling his claws, Kift began to growl, softly at first, but it soon turned into a bestial roar, echoing around the hall. Kift saw himself through the Marquis eyes, not as a person, not as a fellow human being, but as the wolf-man, the stuff of nightmares. Kift howled again, bellowing his fury to the world, images of his life running through his head. His brother’s murder, all the days he spent running from crazed mobs, the day the Marquis had found him half-dead, and chained him to this life; all of this flashed through Kift’s mind, like a horrible movie that wouldn’t stop. Kift lunged at the Marquis, seeing now that it was better for a person like him to get his revenge before he died. He wouldn’t live much longer anyway; he had been fated to killed by the ignorance and stupidity of the world that called him a demon and shunned him as a monster before it even knew him as a human. Kift sank his filed teeth into the shrieking man’s throat, reveling in the hot blood that came gushing out of his tormentor’s throat, becoming the demon everyone wanted him to be.