Noir Fairy Tale Little Red Riding Hood

(Josie Sayz: More archiving. I’m not quite sure how this story came about. I recall the assignment being ‘Noir Fairy Tales’. You had to take a fairy tale, change the protagonist and make it dark. This is the story of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ told from the wolf’s point-of-view. It is kind of a follow up to my ‘The Truth of Little Red Riding Hood’ that I wrote the previous summer, which you can find here: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-truth-of-little-red-riding-hood.html.)

Wolf’s Flee

He stumbled. Digging his nails into the ground he sprang himself up, continuing his monotonous cycle of one foot in front of the other. His breathing deepened. His muscles strained. His heart pounded against its imprisonment. Branches lodged in his hair and tore at his face. Blood trickled down his cheek. He jerked his head, glancing behind him. He couldn’t see them, the forest was too dense, but he knew they were there. Voices murmured. Footsteps rustled. Seeping in a breath through gritted teeth, he forced his body forwards. He had to keep up the distance between himself and them. He couldn’t let them catch him. Not this time.

‘How long can they keep this up?’ he wondered. Although he had not sense of time, he knew that he had given chase for over an hour. The sun had since begun its decent. Did these people not have jobs, homes or families to return to? ‘I’d have locked away my daughters if I were them,’ he mused.

He heard rustling. A rhythmical patter sounded from behind. It could not be more than a couple of hundred feet away. It got louder. He took bigger strides. Low growing trailed him. Leaping over a rock, a twig snapped. He twitched his head. Dogs. They had sent their dogs to hunt him down. He had no choice. He darted deeper into the forest.

*

The rain lashed down on the grass outside. With his back against the cold wall, he exhaled a long deep breath, clawing his fingers through his scalp. Bringing his knees towards him, he felt his legs tremor. His pulse pounded through his arms, his legs, his chest. His heart crashed against its ribbed prison, as the pace in which his chest expanded and contracted increased.

Heaving his weight onto his knees he winced as a pain shot through his thigh. Punching his fists into the ground, he shifted his body’s upper weight onto his biceps, as he peered outside the cave. With the sky overcast, his vision did not stretch far. The villagers had given up chase once darkness crept in, leaving their dogs to sniff him out. The wildlife was scarce during the day, but at night they prowled in their packs. He assumed that was why the cave, which he was hiding in, was empty. As he had ventured deeper into the forest, the hunt appeared to have been called off, but he needed to be certain. On all fours, he remained hunched for some time, watching… waiting. As the sky grew darker and with no apparent movement spotted, he retreated back inside his stone shelter.

Slumped back against the wall, his hands drooped at his sides. Hearing the rain’s inconsiderate lashing echo, he growled. Droplets dripped from his hair and ran down his face. His shirt clung to his back. Feeling the strain in his neck, he gave a groan as he ran his arm across his forehead. His fingers trembled as he held them out in front of him. Clenching his hands into fists he beat the floor, cursing under his breath.

Throwing his head back against the wall he pinched his eyes to, dragging his fingers down his face. He let out an over exaggerated sigh as he allowed his mind to wander back to the incident. Her image floated to the front of his mind. He smirked, and then spat in disgust. Yes, he admitted he had a weakness, but it was her fault this time.

She had told him that her father wouldn’t be home for another hour… then he walked in on them. If it had been anyone else, they would have gotten off lightly: a belt beating or whip lashing, but not him. His reputation was too vast, and he had been caught too many times to get away with it this time. Not to mention that she was the mayor’s daughter.

“She came onto me,” he had told them. But no one believed him. If he had walked in on himself, though, he would not have believed him either. Why should anyone believe him with his track record? He looked at her. The one person that knew he was telling the truth, but she looked away from him, from everyone, ashamed to admit the truth. So, he ran.

Looking back now, he could see that running may not have been his smartest move. But he had panicked. He was not ready for their punishment and refused to accept it for something that he did not even do. He may have wanted to, longed to, desired to, but in truth he did nothing. This one was all her.

The last time he was caught one of the villagers chased him out of town with his rifle. However, this time all of the men from the village gave chase, even some of the women. They were determined not to let him get away with this one. The pursuit has lasted longer than his usual lap around the village outskirts, before hiding out in the old, abandoned farmhouse. The villagers definitely wanted to catch him. But none of them dared track him down in the forest after dark. Not with all of the terrifying tales and aggressive animals that were rumoured to prowl the forest once the sun had set.

They had not seen the last of him though. He just needed to give the villagers a few days to cool off – a week maybe, before making a sneaky reappearance. Besides, he needed to go back. There were a few girls that he had not had the chance to mingle with yet and it would not be fair on them if he did not return. With a smile edged on his face, he let the thought of the beautiful girls, who he was yet to meet, dance at the front of him mind as he drifted off into a light sleep.

*

He awoke with a shudder at an unusual sound. He thought he heard a woodcutter sawing at one of the trees nearby. Squinting open his eyes, he jolted up right at the sight of a pack of wolves returning to their cave. Scarpering to his feet, he ran. The wolves trailed after him. He swung his arms out, stretching his legs as far as they would go. The muscles in his calves tore, as he thrust each leg forward. His knee buckled. Throwing himself forwards he reached out for a rock and pushed himself upright. Aching all over, his body was yet to recuperate from last night’s escapade, but he was not going to let it stop him. He needed to escape. He was not going to be beaten, not now. Not after he had come so far. Approaching the steam, he clambered up the rocky bay and leapt across. Landing on the other side of the stream, he fell to his knees. Having neared the water’s edge the wolves retreated, galloping back in the direction of their cave.

He flopped onto the ground, staring up at the sky. The sun was beginning to break through the trees, casting elongated shadows upstream. He pressed his hand against his chest, struggling to push himself upright as his heart hammered. Closing is eyes he pinched his temple with his thumb and index finger, trying to control the expansion and contraction of his chest. As the drumming slowed and swelling of his chest decreased, he shuffled to the edge of the stream. Pulling off his shirt he scooped some water into his hands and threw it on his face. With a groan, he reached out for his shirt and patted himself dry. He winced as he pressed against the cut in his cheek. His stomach growled. He clasped his hand against it and screwed his face up tight. He needed food. He needed to get his energy back. Lucky for him this has not been the first time that he has slept rough. He knew that a borough of rabbits could be located nearby. Crouching with his weight on his toes, he scanned the stream’s shallow banks for a large stone.

*

Having caught and dined on wild rabbit and bathed and washed his clothes in the stream (while he waited for it to cook) he set about walking through the forest. He knew that he could not return to his village just yet; he needed to give the villagers a week or so to let the rawness of yesterday’s incident fade. Instead he headed towards a village on the other side of the forest. He knew it well, for he often stayed there for a few days after angering the people from his own land. However, he faced one problem. He needed money. The villagers had chased him away before he had the chance to scrounge some. Although the other village were unaware of his reputation, they were not likely to let him stay there for free. With the success that he had catching his breakfast, he decided to go game hunting. That way, when he arrived at the village, he would be able to exchange his catch for food and somewhere to stay, or better yet, he might be able to sell his meat for money. His trail of thought was lost, however, as he heard distant singing.

Peering out through the trees he spotted her. Her voice faded as she turned her back towards him and she crouched down to gather a floret of flowers. He edged forward. He watched her rise, poking the flowers into the basket on her arm. A ringlet of hair tumbled from her hood. Her giggle drifted through his ears as she curled her fallen lock behind her ear. She lifted her head. He darted behind a tree. His eyebrows rose. His heart panged. Pressing his back against the tree’s trunk, he pinched his eyes shut and held his breath. She was beautiful: her enchanting voice, her sparking eyes, her charming smile. His heart’s tempo increased its beat. Her soft melody whirled through the trees. Her voice faded again. Clawing his fingers to the trunk, he peered around the tree. He watched her, captivated. Mouth open, his breathing loudened. As she turned in his direction once more, he darted deeper into the thicket.

He followed her from deep within the tree line, diving for cover every time he sensed she saw him. The girl’s walk had slowed once more, as she bended to collect another bundle of flowers. His smile widened, as he edged closer. Poking her posies into her basket, she kicked at the stones in front of her as she continued with her walk. “Hey, watch it!” he growled, stepping out of the shadows. He watched her flinch and looked around, startled by his voice. She spotted him, leaning against a tree, his arms folded. His shaggy fringe edged over his eyebrows, shadowing his eyes from her sight.

“I, I’m sorry,” she stuttered blushing.

“Next time,” he warned, “watch where you’re kicking stones. You coulda had my eye out.” She lowered her head and apologised again, looking at her feet. “Say, what are you doing way out here? The forest isn’t a safe place for little girls, you know.”

“I’m going to my grandma’s,” she told him, gesturing towards her basket. “And for your information I’m not a little girl – I’m seventeen. And I can look after myself thank you very much,” she retorted, sticking her nose proudly in the air. He gave a slight nod and eyed the basket that she as carrying.

Pushing himself away from the tree he neared her. “So, where’s your grandma live?” She angled her basket away from him.

“The first house on the other side of the hill.”

“Arh,” he replied, as his eyebrows rose. He knew the house well. There was only one house on the other side of the hill, and he knew its resident well. It was an elderly lady, who was often seen watering her flowers and tending to her vegetable patch. There was not another house in clear range for at least another half a mile.

With a grin, he jumped to her side, throwing his arm around her shoulder. “And would madam like an escort?” She wriggled out from under his arm and frowned.

“No,” she said forcing a smile and neatening the crease in her skirt. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He held his breath. ‘Careful,’ he warned himself. ‘She’s on to you.’ He gave her a cheeky smile and gazed at her, brushing his hand through his hair. Her cheeks reddened. She lowered her sight from his and curled a fallen lock of hair behind her ear again, trying to hide a nervous giggle. His smile grew. He had that effect on girls.

“You know,” he said, jerking his head to the side, flicking his fringe from his eyes. “If you cut through these trees, here,” he announced gesturing at the cluster of oak trees over his right shoulder. “You’ll get to the other side of the forest a lot quicker than you would if you stick to the path.” Shifting her gaze from his, she stared out at the woodland behind him. Returning her sight to his she thanked him before bowing her head and walking passed him.

As she passed him, he intercepted her step, grabbing hold of her right elbow. He felt her flinch in his arm as she swung her basket in the air, like a baseball bat. “Wait!” he yelled. She stared at him; her eyes wide. He let go of her arm, holding up his hands in surrender and she lowered her basket. “I never caught your name.”

“What’s yours?” she asked him with a firm stare. His stomach churned. He laughed, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.

“Wolf,” he said with a shrug. His forehead puckered and the right corner of his mouth turned up.

“Wolf?”

“That’s what they call me.” Waiting for her to reply, he held his weak smile.

“They call me Red,” she replied with a grin. He smirked. She was playing him at his own game. Pinching his lips inwards, he held out his hand for her to shake. He shifted his sight from his hand to her and back to his hand again. Looping her basket over her left arm, her mouth turned up at one corner as she placed her hand in his.

“Nice to meet you Red,” he said with a grin.

“You too,” she replied smiling, holding his gaze. Trying to conceal a nervous laugh, she brought her hand up to her face as she breathed out through her nose.

‘Cute,’ he thought, smirking at her. Biting her bottom lip, she smiled, before bowing her head and continuing her journey.

*

He stared after her. Eyes locked on the spot where she had been, thoughts of her raced around in his mind. He wanted to see her again. He had to hear her voice once, just once more. He needed to feel her touch against his – her silken skin upon his coarse hands, his bare chest.

Wavering between the trees, her figure came into focus. He jerked his head behind him. Twisted his vision back to her he cursed under his breath. “You idiot!” he said aloud, bashing his head against a tree. He needed to beat her to her grandmother’s house. But by leading her down the shortcut there was no way that he could beat her there now. Even if there was a way, he would lose her trust, as she would no longer believe his shortcut to be shorter than sticking to the path, even though it was. He could not very well arrive after her either. What was he supposed to do, knock upon her grandma’s door and say, “Hi, nice to meet you, by the way I want your granddaughter.” He doubted that that would go down well. “Think… think… think…” he repeated to himself, in between bashing his head against the tree.

He turned to the hill, then back at the spot where he had last seen her. He could still see her. Her figure may have shrunk, but her silhouette was still visible between the trees. He assumed that she had been dawdling; taking her time to observe the scenery, like she was before he introduced himself. He turned back to the hill. There was still time. If she kept her pace, he might still be able to beat her. What to do next, he was unsure of. He would think up the rest of his plan along the way. Turning back for one final look at her, he ran.

He pinched his eyes into slits and clenched his teeth to hide the pain. The strain that he put on his muscles was unbearable. His feet burned. His calves throbbed. A sting shot up the back of his right thigh. Stitch jabbed at his side. He punched at it, then carried on swinging his arms. His pulse raced. His heart rammed against his ribcage. He clenched his hands into fists. He was determined to beat her. He had to make it. He needed to see her again.

*

Reaching the top of the hill, he staggered towards the house. As he approached the gate his left knee buckled. Grabbing out for the metal frame, he clawed his fingers around it and winced through gritted teeth. A sting shot up a nerve in his thigh. He squeezed at his leg, trying to disguise the pain. Sucking in a deep breath, he pushed open the gate and limped to the door. As he reached the door, he leant his right arm against the wall and his left against his knee, arching his back to try to regain his breath. Looking up at the knocker his stomach spiralled. On his mad rush to get to the house first, he had completely forgotten to think of what to do or say when he arrived. Before his hand even considered rapping upon the door it opened.

“Oh!” gasped the elderly lady who appeared in the door’s frame. “I thought there was someone at the door.” Pushing himself off the wall, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look more presentable. His lips parted, but words refused to transport themselves from his brain. “My, you look a little worse for wear, dearie,” she croaked, inspecting him over the rim of her spectacles. Speech lost to him, he ran his hand across the back of his neck, managing a nervous laugh. “Come in, come in,” she said grabbing him by the elbow and leading him inside. She sat him down in an armchair by an open, roaring fireplace. “Make yourself comfortable, dearie,” she called to him as she left the room. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He sank into the chair. His limbs tingled as the heat thawed through his aches. Stretching his legs towards the fire he arched his arms over his head. He gave a yawn. He bolted up right. There was no time for rest. Red was due to arrive at any second. How could he explain himself – being there at her grandma’s house and before her too? His eyes scanned the room: a wooden dining table and chairs, a cupboard, a door under the stairs. His thoughts stopped as her image returned to the front of his mind. His heart drummed louder. His limbs felt heavy. His feet took control. They led him up the stairs and across the landing. He found himself stood in the doorway of the old lady’s bedroom. From the doorframe he stood and watched her in the opening of the wardrobe, hanging up her nightgown. He pushed her. She fell. He grabbed some material. Tearing it into stripes he bound her wrists and ankles. Then he gagged her. He heard singing. He shook his head. His senses returned. It was Red. She was on her way. He swiped the woman’s night cap, shoved it on his head and dived into the bed.

*

The knocker knocked three times. He rustled under the covers, shifting his weight. The knocking sounded again. “Granny, it’s me, Red.”

“Door’s open dearie,” he croaked, trying to mimic her grandma’s voice. He fidgeted with the duvet, hoping to distort his voice. The door creaked open and clattered to. Footsteps pattered around on the floor below, before mounting the stairs. There was a tap on the bedroom door.

“Granny,” she called from the doorway. “Are you in here?”

“Mm hmm,” was all he could manage, as he fumbled with the bed sheets once more. He stared down at the bulky shape that his body made underneath the covers, as she approached. He heard the door thump as it closed behind her, as her footsteps neared him.

“Granny…” He swallowed hearing the hesitation in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Mm hmm,” came his reply again, as he fidgeted with the bedcovers, trying to hide his face from her view. He watched her eyes hover over the sheets, scanning his body’s shape. Their eyes met.

“You’re not my grandma,” she told him fiercely.

“Yes I am,” he croaked rustling the covers, as he fidgeted.

“Can the act Wolf,” she sighed. “I know it’s you.”

Pulling the nightcap off his head, he wriggled himself upright, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “Alright,” he said with a smug grin. “You caught me.” He winked at her. He watched her back away, swallow and glance around the room.

“Where’s my granny?” she asked, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck. Exhaling through his nose, he stayed silent. “Wolf…” she said raising her voice, a crease formed on the bridge of her nose. “Where is she?” A shuffle escaped through the doors of the wardrobe. He watched her head jolt in the wardrobe’s direction. He jerked himself forwards, trying to disguise the noise. Her sight returned to his. Her brow creased. “What are you doing here?”

Eyeing her basket, he looked her up and down. “I was looking for something sweet…” he told her with the cheekiest grin he could muster. “And I think I found it.” He noticed her cheeks redden, as she broke their eye contact. He gave a smirk. His charm was working. The distant shuffle sounded again. He shifted under the covers, hoping once more to hide it.

She dropped her basket and stepped slowly towards him. As she placed one foot in front of the other, he watched her hips sway. His lips parted and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. She perched on the edge of the bed and pulled at the knot of her red cape. As the knot parted, the hood slid from her head. Her auburn hair cascaded from her shoulders. “I know what you’re after,” she said seductively, tilting her head to one side. His spine tingled as she stroked her left hand up his right arm and whispered, “You don’t really want the basket… do you?” He felt her breath on his face. She pouted, leaning over him. Curling her left leg over her right knee, her skirt rode up.

His eyes drifted to her leg’s movement. He pinched his lips together and swallowed, hard. His heart drummed, as his eyes followed the curves of her body up from her legs to her mouth. Parting his lips, he leaned forward, reaching out for her face. He touched her cheek. Her soft skin stroked his hand. His nose brushed against hers. He closed his eyes.

He felt her hold her breath. He leaned in. He fell forwards. Opening his eyes, he looked up, searching for her. He watched as she slowly back away towards the wall. Bearing a cheeky grin, her teeth bit onto the edge of her bottom lip. He straightened as she undid the top button of her blouse. Leaning forwards, his head neared her, controlled by her magnetic force. She curled her index finger towards herself. His eyes widened, sliding himself off the bed to pursue his interest. He advanced. Reaching her, he pressed his hand against the wall beside her neck, hooking the other around her waist. Her lips parted. Her eyes closed. She brushed her leg against his.

With her lips millimetres from his, he felt her slip away again, under his arm. His brow furrowed. One minute she was curved in his grasp the next she was gone. His head shot in her direction. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, raising the edge of her skirt to reveal more of her leg. His eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, as he watched her undo a further two buttons of her blouse. She curled her index finger towards herself again and skipped out of the bedroom. He smirked. She was playing hard-to-get. Hearing a clatter of furniture, his brow creased once more, before scrambling out to follow her.

Descending the stairs, his grin returned and grew further as he entered the living room. She was sat on a wooden chair in the room’s centre, leaning back, with her head tilted to one side. He ran towards her, stopping at her feet. She rose from the chair and circled him. He turned, following her. His skin tingled as she stoked her hand up his torso. Reaching his chest, she pushed him into the chair. He yanked off his shirt. He watched her step behind the chair to his right and arched his head, waiting for her to appear on the other side. He heard rustling. His grin dropped. Something pulled at his right hand. He twisted his wrist trying to free it from imprisonment. He turned to his right, tugging his arm. His wrist was trapped. Something scratched at his other arm. He turned his head. “Red…?” he called out, alarmed. Silence. He rocked to the left, then right, trying to free his arms. “Red…?”

The floorboards creaked. She appeared from behind him. His attention was brought from his wrists to chest, feeling something coarse stoke against it. “Hey!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing?” She tightened the rope and continued looping it around him and the chair, moving from his torso to his legs. Jerking his body to the left, he tried yanking his right wrist free.

“How dare you!” she raged, standing in front of him, hands on her hips, having bound him to the chair. His eyebrows sloped upwards. She adjusted her skirt and re-buttoned her partially un-done blouse, before crossing her arms, scowling at him all the while. “How dare you!” she snarled once more.

“What?” he asked, his voice high. He struggled to shrug, unable to move his arms.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. He flinched. A frown etched on his face, unable to comprehend her sudden hatred of him. “You lure me away from the road, ask me where I’m going, break into my granny’s house, lock her up in the wardrobe and what – attempt to sleep with me… and in my granny’s bed?” She held her hand to her mouth. Turning her back to him, she headed towards the stairs.

“Hey!” he called after her. “Don’t you even wanna hear me out?” She turned to him, abruptly, a scowl etched on her face.

“Try me.” She tapped her foot and folded her arms.

“I wanted you,” he said swallowing hard, feeling sweat trickle down his back. Her scowl remained fixed. “You’re beautiful… Red… I-” She laughed in his face.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Well, yeah,” he said with a frown. “But I never mean it, not like with you.”

“You disgust me. Just you wait until the authorities get here,” she snarled and ran up the stairs.

“Red!” he called after her.

*

Rocking from left to right he twisted his wrists, determined to free himself from the chair. His breathing quickened. His heart thudded. He couldn’t let the authorities get him, not now – he would be hanged for sure. He needed to get out. He needed to escape. Hearing murmuring in the background, he knew she had found her grandmother. They would be on their way down soon.

He growled. Throwing his weight to and fro he managed to rock the chair. It moved. He twisted his wrists. The rope burned against his skin. His pulse drummed in his ears. He repeated the swinging motion, throwing himself from left to right, to left, to right, to left, to right. The chair clattered as he edged across the room. With one final heave, he fell forwards. He shimmied on his knees to the open fire. Wriggling, he lent his left wrist towards the flames. “Come on!” he breathed. “Come on!” He seeped a breath through gritted teeth as the heat scorched his hand. Ash spurted out from the fire and sizzled into his skin. He screamed out, the heat bubbling away at his flesh. As the rope began burning, he twisted his wrists against the chair. The smoke dried his throat. The rope frayed. Jerking his wrist, it broke free. Wriggling his arm out of its bondage, he pulled at the knot around his other wrist.

He heard voices. She must have freed her. They would be down any second. His temples thundered. His pulse pounded through his fingers. He fumbled with the bonds at his feet. The fire cracked as the heat scolded his face. He kicked his feet free, throwing the ropes to the fire. Pushing himself forwards from the chair, it clattered behind him as he swiped his shirt and ran for the door. Stuffing his shirt over his head as he ran, smoke filled his lungs. He choked, as he turned his head in the house’s direction. He heard screaming. Jerking his head back around, he strained his muscles to move. Continuing his monotonous cycle of one foot in front of the other, he ran.

- Josie -