Red Riding Hood

Red Riding Hood

      It all happened in late May, the day after Mother and I finished my red cloak. I remember that I was very excited about wearing my new article of clothing and showing it off to Grandmother.

     Early in the morning, my mother handed me a woven basket, which contained cake and wine, gave me some strict instructions, and sent me off. The birds sang happily in the treetops and the flowers along the road bloomed in their fullest glory. I had every reason to be happy, as I made my way through the forest to my grandmother’s cottage.

     The shadows of the trees hid the warm rays of sunshine, so I wrapped the soft fabric of my cloak around myself. A rabbit ran across the path and he hesitated only a second to glance at me before he scampered into the foliage. I stared longingly at a cluster of violets as I passed them by, but remembering my mother’s words I continued on my way. She had told me not to stray from the path, lest I become distracted and forget about my errand to grandmother. Something else my mother had commanded me to do was to be polite to my grandmother by being sure to say, “Good morning.” I frowned when I thought of those words, Mother was always nagging me to say exactly the right things. It was not that I was rude, at times I simply forgot the regular niceties that most people imparted to each other. Absently I scuffed the toe of my boot against the hard packed ground, Mother would never know if I forgot today, but nonetheless, I would try to remember.

      Without warning, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadows of the trees. I gasped in surprise, but a soft voice shushed me, instantly telling me who my captor was.

     “Jeremy,” I gasped. “What are you doing? My mother told me not to leave the road.”

     A slow smile spread across his handsome features, “Don’t worry, Crimson. You’re safe with a hunter, I won’t let the wolf get you.” He referred to the dangerous wolf that lived in the forest. It was said to be huge, although no had ever lived to tell of it. Only its footprints were evidence of its enormous size and those were said to be the size of a man’s hand. Stories were also told of its ability to speak, but I did not believe those. I thought they were simply the product of a drunk man’s blabbering.

      “I’m not so sure I believe in the wolf, Jeremy. What if they are stories that are told to scare us?” I turned my head away from his to watch a pair of bluebirds building their nest.

      “Oh, he’s real alright. I’ve heard him howling on a full moon and just think of all the villages he has attacked. Those aren’t stories and you know it,” Jeremy said, with conviction.

      “I know all of those deaths are real, but no has ever seen the wolf,” I sighed and let my shoulders fall.

     “No one has seen the wolf, yet,” Jeremy’s brown eyes watched me carefully as I took a few steps towards the bluebirds. “But Crimson, that’s not what I pulled you off the road to talk about.”  He moved closer to me so that I could smell the lingering scent of pine upon his clothes and I turned my gaze towards his.

     “What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, curiosity lacing my syllables.

     “Will you meet me by the old well tonight, before it gets dark? There is something I wish to ask you,” he said, nervously.

     I smile shyly, “I suppose, but then I had better go now.”

     “Of course,” he took a step backward, “Goodbye, Crimson.”

     “Goodbye, Jeremy,” I said as I returned to the road.

     “Your new cloak is beautiful,” he said from behind me, but when I turned, he was gone.

     Once again I continued on my way down the path, wondering furtively what he wanted to ask me.

     Presently, I began to feel the sensation of being watched by someone or something. It made me shiver and I wrapped the folds of my cloak tighter around my body. The cloak was red so that I could easily be spotted by hunters, but the heavy gaze upon me did not feel like a hunter’s eyes. Thankfully, in a short while the strange feeling faded and I began to walk at a brisker pace, suddenly eager to reach grandmother’s cottage.        

     Soon I could faintly see the smoke from her chimney rising above the treetops and a little further on I caught a glimpse of her stone cottage. It was nestled in a small glade with a stream running behind it and a picket fence to keep the little animals out of her garden, surrounding it. On the left side of the glade was a small chicken coop with stone siding to match the cottage, but, strangely enough, there was not a chicken in sight. At the time, I thought that perhaps, grandmother forgot to let them out that morning, she was often forgetful.

      As I entered the gate, the hinges squeaked loudly and I realized how silent grandmother’s little glade was. How strange, I had thought that to be. Cautiously I walked up the flagstone path to the rough wooden door and knocked softly. There was no answer so I entered.

      Just as my mother had instructed me to do, as I stepped over the threshold I called, “Good morning, Grandmother.” There was no answer from the small bedroom at the back of the cottage so I spoke again, not wishing to frighten the old women. “Mother, sent me over with some cake and wine.”

     As I walked through the cottage’s main room, I took care to shuffle my feet and clear my throat so as to wake her up if she was sleeping. Cautiously I stepped into the door frame of her bedroom and saw that there was certainly a figure beneath the faded quilt of grandmother’s bed. I spoke quizzically as I peeked into the bedroom, “Grandmother?”

     “Who’s…,” A gruff voice began, but it cleared its throat before it continued in a sweeter tone, “Who’s there?”

     “It’s Crimson, your grandchild, who has brought you cake and wine from my mother,” I said, remaining nervously upon the threshold.

      “Oh my dear, how kind. Put it on the stool and come nearer,” my grandmother’s voice cracked on the last word. I thought it very strange that my grandmother called me dear, she never did that. But I entered anyway and set the basket upon the small stool. I then could see better the larger than usual shape of my grandmother beneath the covers. I could not see her face though, because her nightcap was pulled completely over her face.

     “Grandmother, are you feeling alright?” I asked, but remained by the stool.

     “Yes, yes dear. Come nearer to me,” she answered with agitation dripping from her words.

      I took one step closer to her but halted there. My grandmother had called me dear a second time, something was most certainly not right.

     “Closer,” she commanded loudly, her voice deepened from its original quality.

     I jumped in fright at the roughness in her voice, but I shuffled the smallest inch closer anyway.

     “How many times must I tell you? Come closer,” it roared and finally I knew it was not my grandmother beneath those blankets.

      The creature must have noticed its mistake, for it threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. I screamed and hurriedly backed away. Before me was a great, brown wolf with glowing, yellow eyes.

     “Come closer, little red riding hood,” it growled, slinking forward.

     “No,” I said, my voice shaking. Backing away again, I tripped upon the hem of my new cloak. I tumbled to the ground and the wolf moved to stand over me. His putrid breath tickled my skin, making me shiver despite my warm cloak. A low growl rumbled his chest as he leaned nearer. I could not stand looking into the two poisonous suns that were eyes so I let my lids close. Some are brave enough to stare death directly in the face, but I would rather have died with the fond memory of Jeremy’s smile in my mind. 

     Suddenly there was a loud whimper and the weight of the wolf was lying upon my legs. Confused, I opened my eyes only to see before me the hideous face of the wolf with a shining, silver arrow protruding from its forehead. Blood began to drip and I writhed beneath the heavy weight of the wolf’s dead body, attempting to free myself.

     Gentle hands laid themselves upon my shoulders and a voice said, “Easy, Crimson. I’ll get him off of you.”

     “Jeremy,” I sobbed as relief flooded through me.

     He placed his bow upon the floor and rolled the wolf from me. I scrambled onto my feet and in an instant Jeremy was at my side, wrapping his strong arms around my shuddering frame.

     “Grandmother,” I whispered.

     Jeremy brushed a few strands of chestnut hair from my eyes and shushed my thoughts, “No, Crimson. Don’t think about that now, let me bring you home and then I’ll come back and see what can be done.”

     Feeling rather numb, I simply nodded and allowed Jeremy to return me home.

 

     Jeremy went back to my grandmother’s cottage and although men from the town and himself, scoured every inch of the glade and the surrounding forest, there was no sign of my grandmother. They then skinned the wolf, made a huge fire in the town square, and burnt the beast. Jeremy did not forget his request though, he faithfully met me at the old well where he asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes, and we were wed at the end of the summer.

     Till this day we have lived together happily and on the occasions when I venture into the shadows of the forest, I always wear my red cloak. And I will wear it till it can no longer be worn, because I do not want to forget that day and how my grandmother died.

Reviews

[Aubrin]

Oooh. I love the alternate ending to the original story. I also love the detail you put into it. Plus, I love the pairing!! Jeremy is so sweet and protective. (: Good writing!

[Emma]

Awe, thank you so much. :)