Little Red

Image Credit: Abby S., New Carlisle, OH The author's comments: The story of Little Red Riding Hood inspired me to do this piece. I accept criticism and would appreciate it if you comment/rate my work. Please don't be to harsh :) The wolf crept slowly forward. He growled, almost seeming to taunt Red with his blood stained teeth. Red screamed. She paused, hoping her cry would be answered. But no response was given to her. In the moonlight the wolf's eyes seemed to glow with the ghosts of his past victims. She screamed again; now, causing her arms and legs to tremble with terror. Red took a step back. Her heel hit the base of a sturdy oak tree, its long branches seemed to enshroud her. She pressed her back, hard against the bark of the tree hoping it would consume her. A single tear broke free, it rolled down her cheek and then stopped. Oh why had she not obeyed her Grandmother? Why had she gone into the forbidden forest? Red opened her mouth, trying to scream for the third time. But no sound came. She closed her eyes slowly excepting her fate. The wolf snarled again. It was hungry. Red only hoped that now in the middle of this dark, and forboding place her end would be quick. She could almost imagine his teeth sinking in to her skin. Allowing the blood to pour. She breathed in deeply trying to calm herself...The wolf lunged. Red braced herself waiting to cry out in pain. But it was the wolf who howled in pain. He landed a foot away, as if some unknown invisible force had kicked him. The wolf whimpered, looking distastfully up at Red, then scampered away like a little puppy. Little Red Riding Hood gasped, just now remembering the red cloak she wore. The red wool hood her grandmother had given her. Of course. How stupid! She had forgotten about the magic in the wool that protected her. In the terror she had forgotten. Red slumped down to the ground, letting out a muffled sob. She hugged herself allowing the tears of joy to flow freely off her face.



CANDACE KUBINEC: The Art of Forgetting

My old dog knew how to forget unkind words and raised voices. He always forgave being left behind, didn’t hold a grudge. Instead he’d greet me with a wag and a silly dog smile. After you left us behind, a tender look from his chocolate eyes helped me forget, too. Candace Kubinec posts her stories … Continue reading CANDACE KUBINEC: The Art of Forgetting →

ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Apartment 317

Jane was trapped in a world of low ceilings and high furniture. At a charity event, she met an avant-garde decorator specializing in purple lighting. She told Jane, “Stand out. Be bold and bright. Shine. No excuses.” So nowadays Jane lives in a beige cube with powerful splashes of purple. Roberta Beach Jacobson is a … Continue reading ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Apartment 317 →

AUTUMN BOLTE: Young Adult

Turn on lo-fi music. Drive my car so I can nap. Wake me up anyways to kiss. Roll down the windows, wind tangling my hair. Take me later for a bike ride; take me anywhere. Let me pick scabs off my knees without judgement. Let me be a kid again. Autumn Bolte is an undergraduate … Continue reading AUTUMN BOLTE: Young Adult →

ERIN GILMORE: 1983

“Grandy, will you tell me about Hawaii?” A pause, and then he brushes his bottom lip thoughtfully with the edge of a thumb, the blue anchor on his forearm gone soft and blurry with time. In his eyes, I catch a glimpse of metal and fire. “Not much to say.” Erin Gilmore is a writer … Continue reading ERIN GILMORE: 1983 →

LAURA BESLEY: Her Glorious Face

Every morning, on the 8:04, I look for her face. Sometimes I see individual stars, but never the entire constellation. This is her train. The train that took her face and scattered her stars into the darkness around it. All I want is to see her face one more time. Laura Besley writes short fiction … Continue reading LAURA BESLEY: Her Glorious Face →