Red: A Faerie Tale Massacre!
A young girl in a red hood walked the forest path with careful steps.
Everyone loved her.
Especially her grandmother.
And that, perhaps, was the problem.
Chapter One
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was adored by all who knew her. Most of all by her grandmother, who once gifted her a red velvet hood. It suited her so perfectly that she refused to wear anything else.
So she became known as Little Red Riding Hood.
But she preferred simply:
Red.
That morning her mother handed her a basket.
“Cake and wine for your grandmother. She’s weak. Be careful. Stay on the path.”
Red smiled sweetly.
“I will.”
She always said exactly what people wanted to hear.
Chapter Two
The forest was cool and quiet when she entered it.
She knew the wolf would be there.
He always was.
He stepped from the trees as expected — large, grey, cautious.
“Good day, Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Please,” she corrected gently. “Just Red.”
He eyed the basket.
“I am terribly hungry…”
“Yes,” she said. “I imagine you are.”
She held the basket slightly away from him — not protective.
Measured.
“You may not have any.”
He tried pleading. She denied him. He suggested flowers. She pretended to be distracted.
Everything unfolded exactly as she had rehearsed it in her head.
When she stepped off the path, she did not pick flowers.
She waited.
And when she was certain enough time had passed…
She walked calmly to her grandmother’s cottage.
Chapter Threee
The door was open.
Good.
Inside, the house smelled faintly of old wood and something medicinal.
She took a knife from the kitchen drawer before entering the bedroom.
Just in case.
She pulled back the curtain.
“Grandmother, what big ears you have…”
The wolf answered in disguise.
The performance continued.
Eyes. Hands. Teeth.
He leapt.
She flinched deliberately.
And then—
Laughter.
The wolf collapsed back onto the bed, wheezing.
“You should have seen your face!”
Her grandmother crawled from beneath the bed, chuckling.
“Oh, it was priceless.”
Red did not laugh.
She did not lower the knife.
Something inside her expression changed.
Chapter Four
“No,” she said quietly.
Her grandmother smiled. “No?”
“This is not how this was supposed to happen.”
The wolf tilted his head.
“Supposed to?”
Red’s hands began to shake — not with fear.
With fury.
“IT WAS MEANT TO BE SIMPLE.”
Before either could react, she stepped forward and slit her grandmother’s throat in one clean motion.
No hesitation.
No trembling.
The old woman collapsed at her feet.
The wolf staggered back in horror.
“You… you killed her…”
Red turned slowly.
“The cake was prepared. The wine was prepared. It would have looked natural.” Her voice trembled with rage now. “But you had to complicate it.”
The wolf backed toward the window.
“She loved you!”
“If she loved me,” Red snapped, kneeling beside him, “she would have died sooner.”
The wolf bolted.
Red grabbed his tail, dragging him briefly back across the wooden floor — his claws scraping desperately — but a sudden crash interrupted them.
The door burst open.
A huntsman.
He froze at the sight of the body.
The wolf seized the opportunity and fled between the man’s legs into the forest.
“No!” Red screamed.
Too late.
The last loose end was running.
Chapter Five
The huntsman stared in shock.
“What happened here?”
Red collapsed against him, sobbing instantly.
“It was the wolf… he killed her… I tried to stop him…”
The performance returned.
Perfectly timed tears.
Shaking hands.
He moved to call the authorities.
Red’s thoughts raced.
If the wolf were captured alive—
No.
That could not happen.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “We should stay here. But first… please. Have some cake.”
He hesitated only a moment.
It was delicious.
He complimented her baking.
He spoke kindly of her grandmother.
Then his breathing changed.
Then his face reddened.
Then he fell.
The poison worked quickly.
Red watched without emotion this time.
She took his axe.
“One more victim of the wolf,” she murmured.
Chapter Six
Outside, the forest was darker now.
She followed the tracks easily.
The wolf had run toward the deepest part — the old part — where the trees grew too close together and light thinned into nothing.
She stopped at the edge.
The woods seemed to watch her.
She smiled.
“You can’t run from me,” she called into the darkness.
Her voice no longer sweet.
Only sharp.
“You’re my only mistake.”
She lifted the axe onto her shoulder.
And stepped into the trees.
The forest swallowed her whole.
Moments later, distant laughter echoed between the trunks.
Not frightened laughter.
Not hysterical.
Certain.
The End – Thank you for reading Red: A Faerie Tale Massacre
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