Of Red Capes and Blinding Storms

The Cottage


“Grandma? Grandma, it’s me! Little Red Riding Hood,” she called into the silent house.

This is very strange, she thought to herself, stepping into the eerie stillness. The door creaked loudly as she shut it.

“Okay Grandma, where are you,” she said mostly to herself. She stepped lightly, but the wooden floor defied her by groaning with every stride she took.

The smell of baking bread wafted in the air. So naturally, Red headed towards the kitchen. She peeked around the corner cautiously. The pots and pans hung from their holders just as they always did and the table was neat and tidy. But the only sound that was heard was the dripping of the spigot and Red’s own breathing. She stepped inside, looking around. The oven was on and there was bread inside. She quickly grabbed a dish rag and pulled the hot pan out.

“This is so unlike Grandma, leaving something in the oven,” she said, putting the pan on the windowsill, “Maybe she decided to take a nap while the bread was baking.”

She made her was to the bedroom, her heart beginning to thump more forcefully beneath her chest. She pushed the door open, hoping with every fiber of her being that Grandma would be safe and sound in her bed. But alas, no one was in there. The quilt and sheets was untouched and the room was just as eerily silent as the rest of the cottage.

“Something’s wrong,” Red said finally. She backed away from the bedroom door nervously, into the living room, not really looking where she was going. She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin in terror.

Standing before her was a tall, dark figure, glaring down at her with merciless eyes. Red’s breathing picked up and she took one step backwards. But the figure mirrored her move by stepping forward.

“You…,” she finally managed to gasp.

“Yes, lassie,” said the intruder in a familiar Scottish accent.

“What… what did you do with my grandmother,” Red demanded, trying to muster up some courage.

“Nothing sweetheart, but tell her that her poor little Red was lost in the woods,” he said, stepping closer to her.

“You are trespassing,” Red said nervously, “I order you to leave.”

“Now don’t get your bloomers in a bunch, lassie,” he said with a maniacal smile, “I was hoping we could have a little fun while your grandmother was out.”

Immediately, Red’s heart sank to her stomach. She knew exactly what he wanted. And she also knew if she let him fulfill his intentions, she probably would not live through it. She had to do something.

“And what kind of fun were you thinking of,” she asked, trying to stall him.

He just looked at her with his evil eyes and a lustful smile. “It would be a shame if you were to die a virgin, you know,” he said, shifting the ax on his shoulder slightly. Red watched it cautiously.

“Who says I’m a virgin,” she asked, inching away from him, “For your information, I’m filthy.”

The woodsman simply chuckled, lifting the ax off his shoulder. “Now now, lassie. Nobody likes a liar,” he stated, raising the ax. “Now, darling, we can do this the easy… or the hard way.”

Red finally felt herself back into a side table drawer. Her mind raced for a solution to her predicament. And then she remembered something very important. She reached behind her, and silently opened the drawer. Reaching in, she found something long, sharp, and metallic, and held it behind her back.

“Alright, let the games begin,” she growled at him.