Run Little Red

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The occupant inside shuffled around, gathered their supplies, and prepared everything for their return the following night. Most people would have avoided settling in the area as the winters were known to be brutal, making starvation to death a likely possibility as there were hardly any animals to hunt or plants to gather. But not for the occupant inside, for they were a skilled hunter. And their preferred prey was abundant in the area. With everything set, the hunter left the cabin to head into the wood where they had last seen spotted their game and waited. It was time for the hunt.

Deeper within the woods, a small cabin surrounded by wildflowers sat at the bottom of a hill. In the cabin lived a grandmother and her granddaughter, who she adored. On the girl’s birthday, the grandmother gifted the little girl a beautiful hooded red cloak. The little girl loved it so much that she never took it off, even when it was bedtime. Thus the grandmother dubbed her Little Red. Little Red loved to go outside, where she played in the pretty flowers. She would even pick some flowers and give them to her grandmother, who would use them to make the delirious jams. Everyone loved her grandmother’s jams. Whenever Little Red and her grandmother brought them to the village’s market, they would sell out within hours and come home with plenty of supplies for the coming winter.

Their cabin was a reasonable distance from the village. Little Red would sing songs to pass the time as they traveled. When Little Red and her grandmother arrived at the village, they would greet the villagers with smiles and waves. And because Little Red was such a well-behaved girl, the villagers loved her and often gave her presents, such as toys, candies, or even tiny flowers she could pin to her cloak. Because of this, a sweet scent always followed her wherever she went. Little Red’s grandmother often received many compliments because of Little Red as they worked at their shop. When Little Red and her grandmother finished selling for the week, they would gather their things, say goodbye to the villagers, and head home. Little Red always sang as they went.

They came every week during the summertime but not in winter. The heavy snowfall would block the trail from their home to the village, and it would not thaw until winter’s end. That was until an especially fierce winter hit the area. It was so cold that most of the animals, crops and even some people in the area had died off. The villagers that survived the harsh winter were grateful when spring came. They soon grew to worry as Little Red, and her grandmother had not shown up like usual. It wasn’t till a day later that Little Red came walking into the village, but her grandmother was not there. And she wasn’t singing.

“Where is your grandmother, Little Red?” asked one of the villagers.

Little Red kept her head down with her hands tightening on the basket. The hood of her cloak covered everything but her mouth. She spoke, “Granny got sick this winter, so she sent me here to sell our jams.”

“Aw, what a sweet and obedient child.” The villagers were hurt to hear of Little Red’s misfortunes. So along with buying all her surplus of jams, they also gave her any extra supplies they could spare. Little Red was so happy at the village’s kindness that she left the village skipping. As she thought about meals she could make with her grandmother, Little Red didn’t notice the Huntsman standing on the trail until she ran into him.

“Whoa, little one, where is it that you are in such a hurry to get to?” He asked in a deep voice holding his hunting ax over his shoulder and a broad smile on his face.

Saying nothing, Little Red observed the mountain of a man standing before her. Normally she wouldn’t speak to strangers as her grandmother had warned her about this but seeing the kind look in his eyes, she decided it would be okay this time.

“I’m on my way home. My Granny is sick, and I need to return to take care of her. We live on the other side of that big hill over by the old oak tree,” She told him.

“I see what a good child.” He spoke, stroking his bread and glancing around the surroundings. “Well, if your grandmother is sick, I knew a flower that grows out here that can help her.”

“Truly, sir, you do?” Little Red asked excitedly.

“Yes, it is a small, no more than two inches tall flower, with a purple center, blue petals, and red thrones. If you gather a handful of this flower, grind it up into a powder, and mix it with some hot soup, it cured your grandmother’s illness in no time.”

Little Red listened to the Huntsman describe the flower as a smile spread across her face, and her eyes brightened underneath her hood.

“Where can I find this flower?” Little Red asked, already excited to have it.

“That’s easy; you see that weeping willow there?” he points to a short distance from the trail. “On the ground beneath it, on the edge of the stream, a patch of this flower grows.”

“I see it, but,” Little Red shuffled her feet. “Granny always told me not to leave the trail for the big bad wolf could gobble me.

“It is good that your Granny warned you the wolf was quite dangerous. But don’t worry, I killed the wolf this winter and used his pelt to make this tunic.” He said, caressing the fur on his chest. “You can go collect flowers without worry. You even can follow that stream to the oak tree then you are home. It’s a faster way than staying on the trail. That way, you will get there twice as fast.”

“Oh, thank you! I’m Granny won’t mind, especially since the wolf is dead. Goodbye.” Little Red waved to the Huntsman as she left the trail. The Huntsman watched her as he stroked his bread. He then turned and headed down the path, whistling a tune as he went.

Little Red quickly found the flower that Huntsman pointed out. She spent a great deal of time gathering as many as possible before returning home. She noticed the cabin door left open as she skipped up the trail. Little Red paused for a moment staring at the door, then continued into the cabin. She entered and shut the door behind her.

“Granny, I’m back from the village market.” She called out.

“That’s wonderful, dearie. Won’t you come back here and show Granny all that you got.” her grandmother replied in a deep raspy voice.

Little Red placed her basket on the wooden table by the door. “Granny, your voice sounds different than it did this morning. Has your sickness gotten worst?” She asked worriedly.

In a panic, her grandmother tries to clear her throat. “Yes, dearie, it seems this sickness is making it harder for me to speak clearly. Would you fetch me a cup of water?

“Of course.”

Little Red then turned to the sink and filled a cup with water. As she was doing that, she could hear the sounds of footsteps behind her. Assuming it was her grandmother coming, she turned with the cup.

“Here you go….” Little Red didn’t get to finish when something struck her head. She fell to the ground with a thud as the water spilled out on the floor.

The Huntsman looked at Little Red as she lay on the ground, his ax buried in her head. Sighing as he turned to back the grandmother’s bedroom to gather the things he had left there. The Huntsman was disappointed with the turnout of this hunt. He had hoped that his prey would have given him more of a challenge, especially since he left many clues to his present but alas, no luck. The Huntsman had just finished gathering everything when he caught the scent of something rotten, maybe dead. He was stumped because he had smelt this scent earlier when he broke in but figured it was the meat hanging outside the cabin. So he closed all the windows to block the scent, but he was still smelling it.

Following his nose, he tracked the scent to the closet at the bedroom’s far end. As he got closer to the closet, the scent grew more robust. He was so distracted by the smell that he didn’t notice the wood around him had gone silent. The birds had stopped chirping even the wind was still. The only sound to be heard was the Huntsman’s breathing and heavy footsteps. Then it was his gagging as the scent choked him when he stood before the door. When he finally opened it, his ax fell from his hand as all the blood drained from his face.

The grandmother’s remains were in front of him, stuffed into the small closet. Her body looked like a pack of wolves had attacked it. The remains were barely recognizable as a person. The body was twisted and dismembered, chunks of flesh missing, torn off, and shredded. The bones were exposed and broken into pieces, and everything rotted like it had been here for days. The Huntsman took an unsteady step backward as he stared at the flesh pile. His heart was thundering in his ears.

He had thought the grandmother had left the cabin to fetch meat from the ice house. That’s why he blocked the door with a piece of wood before he came into the cabin, but how had she ended up like this when only he had been here for the last couple of hours. As a creak sounded throughout the house, a bone-chilling realization hit him. If the grandmother was here and he had not been the one to have done this, then that could only mean one thing. The creaks got louder, followed by a gurgled growl and wood scraping. It was as if something heavy was dragging a shape object on the wooden floorboards as they grew closer. The Huntsman could hear whatever was steadily getting closer to him to the point that he could feel its hot breath at his nape because he was too scared to move a muscle to escape. And by now, he knew it was far too late. This creature was a more skilled hunter he was. It had set to trap perfectly to catch its prey.

The gurgled growling sounded behind him, but this time it formed words. Words in the voiced of a sweet little girl.

“I’m so happy you found Granny. We have been waiting on you for a long time. We are famished.” The last thing the Huntsman saw in the reflection of the window beside him was a tall, emaciated creature with thin and matted hair, two sunken eyes, and a gaping mouth full of sharpened yellow teeth covered with saliva.