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.



JONAH ARDIEL: Tattoo

18: The pelican on my shoulder reminds me to slow things down, live calmly. 25: The snake slithering up my arm symbolizes willful and unapologetic action. 33: The rose on my wrist shows me that beauty can stem from new beginnings. “Dad, what do your tattoos mean?” “Nothing,” I say. Jonah Ardiel lives and writes … Continue reading JONAH ARDIEL: Tattoo →

PATRICK MC LOUGHLIN: Cowboy Builders

The architects studied the plans for the umpteenth time. There was something missing, but what was it? Gabriel turned the drawings upside down and then Michael turned them sideways. “This won’t work. It will fall apart,” they both agreed. “Just get on with it,” sighed God. “It’s not that important.” Patrick Mc Loughlin is an … Continue reading PATRICK MC LOUGHLIN: Cowboy Builders →

MAURA YZMORE: Ephemera

I float beneath the ceiling. On the red carpet, my body glows: satin, silk, jewelry worth ten times my parents’ house. My body hugs cast members, producers. Gets felt up. I miss home. The afterparty. I ride a thick line of cocaine back into my body. Feeling whole… doesn’t last. Maura Yzmore is a Midwest-based … Continue reading MAURA YZMORE: Ephemera →

ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Giggles and Magic

Every Tuesday at four in the afternoon hearts racing the trio of princesses zips down the hill and skips across the cobblestones to the village library Why all the excitement? The Harry Potter book club that’s why Every princess knows nothing compares to the secrets of wizardry hidden in books Roberta Beach Jacobson is a … Continue reading ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Giggles and Magic →

JO WITHERS: Spirals

Fibonacci was fascinated by spirals. Mathematical patterns in flower petals, repetitive details in seashells – Nature’s inescapable, infinite cycles. As I hear you arguing with your father, drink-fuelled tempers curdling love to spite, I wonder: are we all like this? Caught in eternal circles, passing around the point where we began. Jo Withers writes micros, … Continue reading JO WITHERS: Spirals →