Golden Locks Stained Red

July 14, 2013
She twirled the axe in her left hand, walking down the old, beaten path in the forest. She walked with confidence in her step, the buzz still fresh like an open wound. Blood flung off the edge of the axe, splattering itself along the bark of the oaks she graze by. She would giggle every now and then, remembering their looks of terror.
Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother had actually thought she was there to save them from the wolf! Which, in a way she had, but they still weren’t going to enjoy the picnic Red brought if they were both dead. Stupid girl, thinking Goldilocks was her friend.
She certainly didn’t think that after Goldie beheaded her grandmother with the axe. No, she’d run away, screaming. Goldie always liked it when they ran, she enjoyed the chase. But she had ended Red’s life too soon. Right outside the little cabin, positioning her body among the stack of firewood, where she would easily be discovered. The kill had not been satisfying enough.
The buzz was already wearing off. Goldie needed some thrill, she’d been walking for the past half hour, trying to find a house. One with a cozy little family inside, perhaps. That would be fun!
Her feet were growing tired as she took a left on the path, leading her up to a small cottage. A devilish grin spread across her face. She slowly slinks up to on of the windows on the side of the house. She peaks inside, hoping to find a fresh kill. But the cabin is deserted, pots of porridge still arranged around the table.
Sighing, she goes around to the front, easily picking the lock. Walking inside, she trails footprints of mud mixed with the deep crimson of blood. Goldie takes a seat, lounging back and kicking her feet up on the table. She grabs the bowl in front of her, a large silver one with a spoon for the size of a giant. She doesn’t even take a bite before dropping the bowl in a haste.
“Bloody hell!” The bowl had burnt red marks into her hand, leaving it sore and throbbing. The porridge ran from the bowl on the ground, reaching into the crevices of the wooden floorboards.
She grabs the next bowl, cursing under her breath from her burning hands. She takes a spoonful in her mouth and spits it out on the floor. “Damn porridge!” She screams, hurling the glass bowl at the nearest wall,
where it shatters and tumbles to the ground.
“This better taste right.” She grumbles. She takes a cautious bite, before shoveling the rest of the contents into her mouth. The run in with Red earlier had left her famished.
She belches loudly, shoving away from the table. She walks around, examining the house and its contents. She picks up a frame from the mantel in the living room. It shows a family of bears; a mother, a father, and a son.
Goldie gags as she tosses the picture over her shoulder, smiling as she hear the satisfying sound of glass shattering.
She turned to her right to see the sitting room, three chairs placed in a row. Felling destructive, she picks up her axe. She stops by the first chair, an enormous wooden rocker, the pale blue paint peeling away. She uses her axe to smash through the wood, breaking it down into several pieces.
Then she moves to chair number two. Lavish silk covered the seat, and delicate flowers painted on the back and arms. Savagely, Goldie starts shredding the silk into thin pieces, kicking the back of the chair with so much force it flies off.
The final chair was all that was left, a highchair. Laughing menacingly, she lifts it up over her head. She throws it against the wall, smashing frames. Picking it up again she proceeds to throw it around the room, breaking tables and lamps. When she’s done, she places it back where she found it, all beaten and battered like the rest of the room.
She was panting at this point, sweat trickling down her temples. A stairway led upstairs, to what she assumed were the beds. She takes each step, putting effort into climbing up to the top. She reaches it and sees a single room, with three beds laid out. She strides by to stand directly in front of them. She was just going to have a little rest before she had some fun with the bears.
She examines each bed, until settling for the smallest of the three, plush with soft pillows and warm blankets. She is just about to lay down when she hears the door open downstairs. She remains silent and motionless, but the grip on her axe tightens. She hears them gasping and exclaiming about the mess. She hears the father growl, and her heart speeds in excitement.
The bears all bounded up the stairs, but stopped when they caught site of Goldilocks.
Father Bear puffed up his chest, trying to seem tough. He would have been intimidating looking to most people, but not Goldie. “What are you

doing in our home? I ought to eat you alive!” He bellowed.
“But dear Mr. Bear, how can you do that if you’re dead?” Goldie smiles sweetly, the axe hidden behind her back.
Father Bear back away stammering, while mother and son let out a squeal, “W-What did you just say?” Goldie grins, slowly walking toward them. “Stay away!”
She stops in front of them. “But I only want to play.” She says innocently, batting her eyelashes before she pulls her axe out and makes a solid swing.
Half an hour later, Goldie is arranging the bears around the table. Father in his chair, mother in hers, and the baby in his. Their heads are lulled back, exposing fresh slices in their necks. Goldie giggles, finally happy with her work. Opening the door, she skips out of the house. Red splattered across her face and blood soaking the tips of her honey golden hair.

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