Thursday, April 22, 2010

Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Werewolf


One of my favorite blog friends, Velvet at vvb32 reads - is having the most incredible event going on at her blog! Hurry over because you don't want to miss out on her Werewolf Weekend (with giveaways and great reviews galore).

She has absolutely a SLEW of fab giveaways lasting until the middle of May. So do be sure to get your paranormal groove on and head on over there.
AND, in honor of my friend's exciting event, I have written the following YA short story - it's a little cheesy and off the cuff - but hope you enjoy :)
Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Werewolf

I have to confess. I am getting mighty tired of running all these stupid errands for my stupid stepmother.

I know, I know. She's got a set of 5 year-old twin boys to look after, and a bum knee. Plus Dad's gone a lot, working at the sawmill or out hunting when he can get away from Her! So he's like never home, it seems. Not that I blame him.

Anyway, since I'm the oldest (17 last month) and most mature of the bunch (tah dah!), I should be of more help to the stepmother, shouldn't I?

I didn't think so.

Like it's my fault she hooked up with the old man, then proceeded to pop babies like reproduction's going out of style. (and THEN she gained practically 50 lbs, which screwed up her knee - but guess who suffers?!)

Sigh. So once again, first thing this morning out of her mouth I hear, "Red, I need you to run this basket of goodies to Grandmother". I don't know if she studied geography in school, but Gran lives on the other side of the Black Forest. A good five miles of the densest, darkest woods you've ever laid eyes on.

One doesn't just sprint through the Black Forest, for crying out loud.

I hate that woman ...

But I do love Gran, so I'd said okay and tried not to grit my teeth too much. On a brighter note, one of the beastly twins dumped his porridge all over the cottage floor, so ol' lard butt's going to have to actually do some cleaning for a change while I'm gone.

It might be a good day after all.

Well, the first three or four miles weren't too bad, but the day was getting on, late afternoon, and I was starting to roast in the long, red cape and heavy skirts. For some reason everybody thinks I need to dress like a nun, or - more accurately - like a ten year old in training to be a nun.

I know we live in Story Booke Land, but gimme a break! It's not like it's the 19th century and I've got the Brothers Grimm hounding my every move. I was hot and sticky, my once curly auburn locks were hanging in dreads under the hood, and I thought, "SCREW this!"

So I stopped for my first break of the day; there's this awesome little spot hidden in the middle of the woods where a whole slew of trees must have been hit by lightning or something. It's really creepy in a beautiful way, with the trunks all twisted and gnarly, and stumps perfect to rest your aching legs and feet.

Which btw ... not to be a vain ho or anything, but I have absolutely HOT legs, if I do say so myself. Which I DO say so myself, because there's never any guys around to tell me. (Did I mention my life is full of major suckage?)

Anyway, since my skirts were already torn by all the brambles, I thought I'd take advantage of the situation and ditch the nun outfit. Off went the cloak - I could always claim I'd forgotten it at Grans - and Riiiiiiiiiiip went the heavy skirt, which brings me back to the leg thing. Not only was I now a whole heck of a lot cooler with my skirt shortened to (gasp!) ABOVE my knees, but I was happy to expose my stare worthy legs to the light of day for a change.

Too bad my only admirers would ever be maybe a rabid deer or my obnoxious little stepbrothers.

God, where was a handsome PRINCE when you needed one?!

And then this huge wave of depression washed over me. Here I was, seventeen and lonely, without a hope in Hades of ever meeting my handsome Prince. I was doomed to spend my youth withering away under the evil eye of Stepmother, chained to the cottage, with never a chance to attend a ball or anything were I might meet a cool guy.

We didn't even get the stupid INTERNET in this neck of the woods, so I couldn't even score a date online ... :(

And just when I was about to thoroughly drown in teenage angst, I heard in the distance the most hideously disturbing, guttural growl this side of hell. Which is what startled me so badly that I hit my head - hard - on one of the heavy, low hanging tree limbs and knocked myself unconscious.

When I awoke, the Black Forest was bathed in moonlight. High above my head, where the branches thinned and groped towards the midnight sky, a fat yellow moon appeared to cart across the heavens - like a wheel of German cheese rolling down the cobblestones. It took me a moment to clear my head, to realize it was the swift scudding of the clouds across the plump face of the moon that caused the illusion of movement.

I stood up slowly as my memory came back to me. I was on my way to Grandma's house. With stepmother's basket of goodies. And my life sucked.

Oh yeah ... and I was all alone, hours after dark, in the middle of the some of the densest, most primeval woods known to Europe.

My luck, if not good, was at least consistent.

Fortunately, I had spent most of my life in and out of this neck of the forest, so I wasn't as panicked as one might suppose. With an oath, I shook out my shortened skirts, gathered up Gran's basket, and made my way - more carefully this time - onward.

I spent the next hour stumbling through woods, picking twigs from my tangled curls and cursing middle-aged men who feel the need to remarry.

I also kept a close ear out for anything lurking in the practically impenetrable shadows who might be in the mood for a midnight snack.

By the time I made it to Grandma's House, I was irritable and edgy. And since I couldn't reasonably expect the old lady to be awake at this hour, I had to carefully, quietly lift the latch on the cottage door (Gran is like so last year, no sentry locks or doorknobs for her!) and hope like hell I didn't wake her.

Not that there was much chance of that, if the slow heavy breaths coming from her bedroom were any indication.

I tiptoed across the floorboards of her room, setting the basket down on the table by her bed. There was enough moonlight slipping through the bedroom curtains that I could clearly make out the slumbering form beneath the lumpy, homemade quilt.

I stood there, silently, bathing in the moonlight, reveling in the old-fashioned serenity of the moment - a complete 180 degrees from the disorderly chaos that typified my life with the Stephag and her evil brood. I so loved my Gran, and usually wanted to stay here forever, safe and protected while I waited for my Prince to come.

And maybe I could win the EU lottery while I was at it.

Sigh and double sigh...

I bent over to give Gran a gentle kiss on the cheek before I had to trot my lonely way back home.

And that is when the lumpy form suddenly moved, the covers thrown back, and I found myself face to face, a mere hair's breadth distance, with the most dangerous wolf I have ever seen ... huge, ebony coated and with immense ice blue eyes the color of a winter's sky.

I screamed out of pure reflex, loud and long enough to break glass and possibly wake the dead.

The wolf made his way slowly across the rough, wooden floors to where I stood open-mouthed and trembling with my back pressed tight against the wall. It was all I could do to breathe as he stood towering over me, staring me up and down with those amazing winter's eyes.

Those eyes hypnotized me. It was as if I could see into his soul, and he into mine. And when he lifted ... ever so slowly ... a large paw tipped with deadly claws ... when those massive shoulders moved - the heavy muscles rippling beneath his pelt like water on the surface of a lake ... it took every once of everything I had not to fall into a swoon at the creature's feet.

I could NOT believe this was happening to me. No way, no how.

For a final second, the two of us stood as statues, a fairy tale tableau forever frozen in the silent rays of moonlight pouring through the cottage window.

Then there came a crash, another scream not mine. The moment of silent knowing was broken, having fled to some other place and time beyond man's reckoning. A wild-eyed beefy man in woodsman's clothing burst into the room, wielding an axe over his head.

"Stay back, lil' miss! I'll tend to matters", he gulped as he eyed the quiet, deadly beast who stared him down with an intensity that made me shudder. "I heard your screams, I did", the woodsman explained, as he gathered up his courage to take a bloody swipe at the wolf. "Good thing I was passing this way. Went for a walk to ease my lumbago, I did. Got turned around and that's when I heard you scream!"

The wolf, who up until this moment had stood silently watching and waiting, poised and eerily self-confident, let out a growl of such magnitude that the woodsman went white. I stood there trembling in the moonlight, in stupefied awe, but only for a second.

And that's when I felt the welcome change coursing over and through me.

In less time than it takes to wring a chicken's neck, my own paw had lashed out to strike the woodsman down!

The tall, handsome wolf and I moved side by side, barely sparing a glance at the downed woodsman, axe useless at his side, his annoying chatter forever silenced. It seemed introductions were in order ...

He leaned over to gently sniff my pelt, and muttered, "I've always been partial to redheads". Then he wrapped those two strong arms around me, and I shuddered again, lost in desire.

"Who ... how ... where...? ", I managed to stammer. I could feel a blush rising in my cheeks, but I couldn't tear myself away from those incredible eyes.

With a half-laugh, half-growl, he explained, "I'm surprised we've never met before. I've been living in the Black Forest for several months now, but odd jobs keep me busy. Last year I received my degree in engineering, though I decided to take the summer off before officially entering the white collar job scene". He gave me a sexy, wolfish grin, "pleasure before work, you know".

I was in LOVE. Ab-so-lutely IN love.

He continued to explain, "I met your Gran shortly after I moved to the area. She's awesome. I do little jobs for her every now and then. Right now, she's off at some quilting convention and asked me to stay over to keep an eye on the place. Said there'd been some nosy humans", and here he frowned at the dead woodsman, "snooping around."

"I'll be sure to warn dad and the Stepmonsters," I said. "Or maybe you'd like to come over for dinner soon and tell them yourself."

The huge wolf threw back his head and roared with laughter. Omg. He was SO hot. Did I mention I was in love?

"I'll be there", he chuckled. Then he planted a tender kiss atop my head. "Nice to meet you, Red Riding Hood. My name's Prince."

"Hey", Prince was checking out my new non-nun ensemble, "did anyone ever tell you that you've got the hottest legs?"

And since I didn't want the goodies to go to waste with Gran gone, I opened the basket to share the fresh-baked chocolate chip/wolfbane cookies with my new bf ;)


  1. HA! absolutely LOVE THIS! thanks so much for playing along with werewolf weekend ;-D

  2. OMG, LOL, Okaasan, when did you regress 40 years? Half loved it, half drove me up a wall! Very, very creative though. I want more stories!

  3. Chandra - you KNOW that old folks do regress back to their youth, right? BRAAAAAAAAIIINNNZZZZ

    V - hehehe Thank you, your werewolf weekend was a LOT of FUN :D