Red forest

August 7, 2011
By aslanetz BRONZE, Cohasset, Massachusetts
aslanetz BRONZE, Cohasset, Massachusetts
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Muscles clenched and knuckles white from gripping the blade, she stood firmly in the middle of the unruly path, daring the creature to reveal itself. Seconds trickled by, and still the wolf didn't come out from the shadows of the forest. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, a rustle erupted to her left and a young man emerged from the thicket.
His clothes were shredded and covered in blotches of crimson, and his eyes were wild and bloodshot. The sickeningly-sweet stench of fresh blood reeked from his body. He stalked forward, his mouth drenched with blood and raw flesh, and began to speak,
"You think that your measly blade can stop me? I can, and will, rip you apart and nobody will ever hear your screams," he said as he lessened the gap between them, "they'll never know what horrors happened to you."
Goosebumps flew up and down her shivering body and she steadied her breath. The man took two more steps forward. They were just feet apart now.

The ominous wind let out a shriek as it flew past them, warning her to run while she still could, but she stood her ground. Her hand itched to thrust forward and skewer him right through the gut, but the gap was still too wide. She took a shaky step forward, hand gripping the knife harder.
"Foolish girl," he said with a low growl, "you want me to break all your bones one at a time? It would be easy, like breaking toothpicks. And as the pain blurred your vision, I'd start to nibble at your toes and then your legs; slowly devouring you until your tiny heart just couldn't take anymore. That's what you want, isn't it?"
He took a fatal step forward, putting her in striking distance. She lunged forward and the blade ripped through his flesh. He countered and his jaws sunk into her wrist as she twisted the blade. His face contorted into agony as the silver silenced his once beating heart and his large frame fell to the earth with a thud.
All the blood rushed to her head, which started to pound. Her wrist throbbed with aching agony as she slid the blade out with a slurp.
She hurried away from the corpse, trying to calm down enough to stop gasping for the night air. Her once silky white sheepskin cloak was soaked and matted with drying blood.
As grandmother's house came into view, a strange sensation overtook her; her mouth dried up, heart racing, and her body started to convulse uncontrollably. Only one thought controlled her: blood. She needed, wanted, desired a fresh meal. And it was inside the house; nobody would hear it scream.

The author's comments:
When I attended Teen ink's NYC summer 2011 writing program, one of the assignments was to continue the story of little red riding hood based on one author's interpretation. This is what I came up with.

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