Crimson Desire

Do you believe in fairytales? Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Hansel and Gretel.....

What about Little Red Riding Hood?

You know the story about a little girl who strayed from a path when she was off to visit her grandmother, was attacked by a viscous wolf but then saved by a heroic axman and they all lived happily ever after.....

What would you say if I told you that story was all lies? That there was no little girl, no grandmother, and no basket full of goodies.

What really happened was this...

Long ago, in a village like any other with average villagers and animals and customs and so forth, there was a girl no older than eighteen. She was the most beautiful girl in the village and was given the name red riding hood because she always wore a crimson hooded cloak when she went riding her horse or walking around the village.

On the night of her eighteenth birthday her father and the father of the young axmen made an agreement that they would be wed on the night of the next full moon. Red riding hood was miserable when she heard the news for the axmen was a selfish brute despite his handsome face.

She locked herself in her bedroom for days refusing to let anyone in until finally she grew so hungry she allowed her mother to sneak her food. She would spend days and nights gazing outside her window at nothing in particular until one night something caught her eye; a darker shadow against the black wood with gleaming eyes in the moonlight.

Intrigued, Red riding hood put on her cloak and quietly made her way to the wood with great hast. After that night she returned to the wood again and again. The villagers warned her that a savage wolf lived in the wood and if she strayed from the path it would most likely eat her. To this she simply replied "The wolf would never hurt me"

The villagers thought that she meant they would never meet therefore it would never get the chance to harm her, but now that I think about it is that what she meant at all?

On the night of her wedding she once again visited the wood, but this time she did not return. The axmen went after her but the next morning his father found him dead at his door. The villagers agreed the wolf had finally gotten to red riding hood and washed their hands of the matter.

But, did the wolf really get her, or did she run away? We will never know, or will we....?

Chapter One

Nightmare

"Sweetheart, wake up" my mother whispered. I sat up slowly, rubbed my eyes with my little fat fists and yawned, my mouth forming a small O. I looked into the excited face of my mother, her wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail, emerald eyes shining. I smiled at her as said "What is it mommy?"

"We're going to pick flowers" she said. I kicked off my duvet and swung my little legs onto the floor. My mother helped me into my red woolly jumper and slippers tickling me every now and then. Every time a giggle past my lips I'd slap my hand over my mouth hoping I hadn't woken my brother or father. My mother took my hand and led me down the stairs, careful not to stand on the creaky step; sure it would wake nearly the whole town. When we reached the bottom we tiptoed into the kitchen where my mother retrieved a special knife from a drawer that was always locked during the day. The knife was beautiful. A thin silver blade with an ivory handle that fit snugly into a dark leather holster she'd strap around her waist. Carved into the handle was the form of a wolf, the eyes of which were tiny red stones that burned like crackling flames.

She had told me once that the knife was a family heirloom and it meant more to her than her life. That thought swam in my head long afterward but I put it to rest when I knew she couldn't have been serious. She slid the knife into the holster, hidden under her long velvet coat and cautiously pushed open the back door. I toddled after her, the rush of cold air that engulfed me with the scent of the wood making my senses come alive. Dizziness, giddiness and happiness hit me all at once and I found myself tugging my mother into the wood instead of the other way around. The wood at night was wonderful. Every rustle of leaves, thudding beat of a fox bounding through the bushes, hoot of an owl and the ghostly pale light filtered through the high branches made it seem like one of the fairytales I had read so many times.