Red in the Wilds of Manhattan

It was dark inside the wolf’s belly…but the nightmares had subdued.

Clad in her eponymous signature colour, from her lips and nails to the soles of her Louboutins, she walked briskly but a mite cautiously through the canyons between the high-rises of midtown Manhattan.

It’s so shadowy I might as well be walking through the forest, she thought with a shudder, but to alleviate the lingering PTSD symptoms of her childhood trauma, she persisted in these daily walks as recommended by her therapist.

Agoraphobia had prevented her from venturing too far from home and only recently had she felt confident enough to walk the city streets, secure in knowing that her limo was following a discrete distance behind. She’d looked forward to today’s outing as it entailed visiting a few of her former neighbors from the old ‘hood.

“Hey Red! Long time, no see!” a voice called out, followed by a long wolf whistle from the lowlife pan-handling by the entrance of an upscale hotel, a sneer marring his ugly, whiskered face.

A wave of revulsion engulfing her, Red ignored the voice she recognized and abhorred, taking a deep calming breath to prevent bolting into the safety of the limo.

Yeah, yeah, she thought, you’re lucky to be out on the streets again after serving time for forceful confinement, not to mention wrecking homes. You should’ve been put away for life!

Ironically, the building the loathsome beast loitered against was one of many in the downtown core built by Trois Cochons Construction. The three brothers had amassed a fortune in the building industry; certainly, more than enough to keep the wolf from the door, even though some of their buildings’ owners, like this one, employed Security to do just that.

Red’s mission as personal emissary for Bountiful Baskets, co-founded with her mother with the compensation she’d received from the Crime Victim’s Association, was to deliver samples of their company’s latest luxury items, including the 40 year-old single-malt Scotch from a remote distillery in Scotland’s highlands and the world’s top-rated chocolate confections from Belgium, being conveyed in the limo following her. Long gone were the days of having to transport her goods in a basket.

Her grandmother, no longer feeling safe in the woods, used her compensation to retire to a senior’s complex in Florida where she was a popular dinner guest, regaling her hosts with the story of her horrendous experience, while resisting advances from geriatric, gray "wolves" hitting on her, as she had no interest in adding to the spread of STD’s prevalent in the community. She’d had enough of wolves in and out of her bed.

Reaching Sleep Soundly, the mattress emporium, Red was greeted by owner, Goldie, who’d left behind her B & E days and had gone straight: the proliferation of security cameras on private dwellings being the main reason behind her rehabilitation. She was busy recording the reactions of her official mattress tester, a bedraggled young waif claiming to be a Princess, who lay atop each mattress to test its comfort level determined by whether or not she could feel the pea that had been placed under it. Those that passed the test were labelled “Just Right” while others were returned to the manufacturer as unacceptable.

Only the best would do for two of Goldie’s discerning customers known world-wide by their famous stage names, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, who had gained fame as leading figures in daytime television dramas. Keeping with the tradition of many foreign-born celebrities, both had anglicized their names: Snow White’s original, Schneewittchen, far too foreign and unsavory sounding, became “Margaret” in honor of her mother and paying homage to her French heritage, Sleeping Beauty became simply, “Belle”.

The writers of their daytime dramas, The Youthful Depraved and The Boldly Avaricious needed look no further than their leading ladies’ past histories on which to plot the story lines of daily episodes. Poisoned food, betrayals, jealousy, murder attempts and a plethora of sundry petty treacheries, the basic elements their audiences craved and followed assiduously, were abundant in both ladies’ past lives.

After long hours on set each day, under harsh lights and unforgiving cameras relentlessly capturing even the smallest of physical defects, both ladies needed their beauty sleep and Goldy’s “ Just Right” Mattresses ensured that they received just that.

Leaving her samples with Goldie, Red continued on to Enchanted Gowns, owned by none other than the former Cinderella whose marriage to the Prince had not lasted happily ever after. Now a single Mom, she and her children lived with her Godmother who raised mice and grew enormous prize-winning pumpkins on the side, the sale of which earned her a handsome income. She’d been approached by one named Peter, a well-known control freak, to sell him her largest pumpkin, but knowing he’d use it to lock up his wife, she’d refused to sell.

Cindy’s couture salon specialized in bespoke ball gowns of course, guaranteed to help women catch their “prince”, as advertised in her logo: Gowns to Charm a Prince.

As if! she scoffed, having grown quite jaundiced by claims of ‘happily ever after’ endings, but it draws in gullible women and it’s not as if I’m guaranteeing their futures after all!

It was her custom to sing as she worked just as she had while living with her step-family, but she took great delight in cynically changing the words of the song played at her wedding: A dream is just the start of heartaches...

Despite her personal pessimistic outlook on life, Cindy’s gowns were highly sought after for the fine quality and uniformity of their stitching and beading that some claimed could only have been traced out from the pattern of mice feet, they were so minuscule and intricate; an observation that Cindy slyly neither affirmed nor denied.

In an act of generosity (it was her nature to be kind-hearted after all) following her father’s divorce from her step-mother on grounds of cruelty that left her stepsisters homeless, Cindy offered them lodging behind her showrooms, nowhere near as luxurious as those in her father’s home had been, but certainly adequately comfortable. In exchange they cleaned the workrooms and catered to Cindy’s wealthy clients, serving them cocktails as they waited for their fittings. And their mother, true to her opportunistic nature, snagged her wealthy divorce lawyer with whom she moved to Palm Beach, leaving her daughters to fend for themselves.

On her way again, feeling increasingly more confident in her surroundings as the day progressed, Red passed by the home of Hansel and Gretel who she remembered had been last season’s contestants on the reality show, “Lost in the Woods,” in which contenders were sent on a quest to be the first to locate the fabled Gingerbread House located deep in a Slovenian forest. Given minimal resources (no cell phone, maps, or GPS ) the duo considered themselves favourites to win based on their childhood experiences.

Their over-confidence and sibling squabbling over which direction to take found them mired in thickets and wandering in circles for days, becoming so lost the camera crew could no longer find them which resulted in a 5-day filming delay until they were discovered in a deserted cave suffering from exposure. Forced to remove themselves from the contest to recover, much to the producer’s relief, they gained a modicum of fame as guests on morning talk shows around the country that led to a book deal and eventually selling a major studio the rights to their life story, now in production on location in Europe. As yet unknown to them, a major 'home network’ executive was also considering the duo for a new TV show, a Tiny House spin-off, with the temporary working title, Gingerbread Homes.

Red continued on while asking Siri to remind her to send the pair a congratulatory basket on their return.

Arriving at Rapunzel’s Fine Hair Products and Wigs, Red found the owner engaged in a discussion about the abundance of her hair while fitting a wig on her client.

“No madam, these are not extensions. This is all my own hair that I’ve let grow for decades.”

“But why on earth would you want to keep your hair that long?” the incredulous woman asked.

“Well, you see,” began ‘Punzel, “I live in the penthouse of that new downtown condo tower and in an emergency, I could let down my hair…” and then she stopped abruptly.

What am I thinking? No one would believe my story! she thought.

It was at that moment she spotted Red and excused herself to greet her and peruse the basket of samples, leaving the rest of her story untold. Red left discretely, not wishing to keep Punzel from her client, but also wondering how ‘Punzel would end her story, as she knew it well, but doubted that others would believe a single word.

Poor ‘Punzel, she thought, so pathologically dependent on all that hair she’s burdened with after her earlier trauma.

Back on the street again, Red stopped in at the offices of the prosperous mining company of Brummbär, (Grumpy), Glücklich (Happy) & Schlafmütz (Sleepy) et.al. who were on an extended River Cruise along the entire length of the Rhine, having discovered a mother lode of gold in Alaska this past year.

The seven miners, all brothers or cousins actually, who had never married, pooled their resources to buy and work their own mining claim where they’d recently uncovered the rich vein of gold.

Although they sang their “Heigh Ho” song while working in the coal mines, they reverted to Bavarian drinking songs in their own mine. Ein Prosit, “Eins, Zwei, Drei, often echoed through the tunnels at the end of the day as they hoisted their foaming beer steins.

Jack, their bean-counting accountant, assured Red they would be ordering multiple baskets as they’d had such a profitable year and their stock had soared to greater heights than ever before—a most magical year for the seven!

Congratulating herself for keeping her anxiety levels under control and having had a successful day, Red looked forward to a relaxing stroll through the luxurious furs on display in Quality Furriers, known locally as “Bears R Us”, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the owner’s family name. Arriving at her last client of the day, she was immediately ushered in by Madam Ursa who swept her over to a selection of fine furs.

“Ms. Red, you’ve come at the most propitious time! We’ve just received a new shipment of fur coats that you must try on! The pelts are from very rare animals and would be so becoming and perfect on you,” gushed Mme. Ursus, as she snapped her fingers signaling an assistant to drape a fur coat over Red’s shoulders.

“Very soft and cozy,” admitted Red snuggling deeper into the fur, “and I adore the colour! What kind of fur is this?”

“Why, its Canis Rufus, Red Wolf, the rarest of all wolf colors, raised in captivity to avoid the extinction of the species.”

“Wolf!” shrieked Red. “Oh no, no, no! Get it off me! I was trapped inside one and nearly died! I never want to be inside a wolf again!”

Struggling to remove her arms from the sleeves, then flinging the coat to the floor, she fled outside, pale-faced and trembling, leaving Mme. Ursus and her assistant staring gape-mouthed at her retreat.

Stumbling to the limo and yanking open its back door, Red collapsed into the back seat too shaken to respond to her driver’s inquiring glance.

“Take me home,” she pleaded, her unsteady fingers speed dialing her therapist.

The nightmares returned that night.

It was dark inside the wolf’s belly...

***

“To keep the wolf from the door” is an old idiom about having enough food as wolves were believed to gather at homes of starving people.