Where is Red? Have you've seen her? Last week, she lost her way in the woods and never came back. Little Red was only 10, baby Red. Her laugh reminded me of the sound of bells.
I hear the men and women whispering and talking behind my back. They are no different than that villianous wolf, his monsterous grinning face, his evil, beady eyes, his dark, wicked soul... I do not know of this wolf, yet he haunts my dreams with such grim. I often see her too...
"Little Red is dead," The hunter insisted, holding out her hood. The hood was very dirty, how dare Red leave it on the ground like that. Hasn't her mother taught her to rinse her clothes? My own daughter didn't tell me she owned a farm. Her hood was all bloody from the pigs! Annabeth must have been cutting meat before she got lost, no doubt, no doubt. I forgot Jack was still there. His tears were held back with his stern wrinkly face.
I recalled something.
"Haven't you've aged? Why, it was just yesterday when you were picking roses for Little Red." I chuckled, and his face darkened. "It's been 10 years, Grandma." He said, taken aback. I paid no attention to him, waving him away. I held the red dirty hood in my hands. "Thank you, you've found her hood, we are now one step closer to finding that peskyl grandaughter. I'm still waiting for my basket filled with that scrumptious fruit, wine, pastries.." I droned. I trailed off, my weak and old knees carrying me to my own home. Why, I was growing old as well!
The wind whistled, the tall grass dancing. No trees rustled, because the hunter cut them all down. I could hear the crack of the trunk, the growling of an animal, the laugh of a little girl...
I shook my head.
"I'll be waiting for her!" I shouted, waving my cane in the air. Jack stayed silent, his tears streaming down his face. "And forever you will wait, Grandmother, so make haste" He whispered, but my old ears were still strong enough to catch it.
I didn't look back.
