Little Red

1

Janet got killed by wolves last week.

I stared blankly at the casket that sat soundly in the front of the quiet room. Every now and then, I could hear sniffles and hiccups, mostly from her family. Although the day was supposed to be where they could mourn the loss of their beloved Janet, there were still a row of guards hanging closely to the crowd.

They lacked sympathy. It took everything in me not to march up to one of them and smack them across the head for their impassiveness. Instead, I folded my hands on my lap and kept my eyes trained on Janet's empty casket.

The wolves had consumed her, completely.

According to most, they claimed she had basically asked for it. She did, however, break the rules. If anyone dared to even think about breaking any of the rules, they would get thrown into the darkness of the forest at night, always under the full moon.

They made it into a ritual. At sundown, everyone would watch as the tied up 'traitor' would be shoved beyond the gates of our small town and, helplessly, shoved into their demise. To make the situation a little more dramatic, they had some of us sing the 'song of death.' It was an eerie song, one that always left my skin crawling. It was more like a cry. A cry to the wolves. A cry to the moon.

Nonetheless, the concept was malicious. Our mayor was a lethal man, obsessed with power and order. If anyone were to corrupt said order, we would become the hungry wolves' next meal.

Like Janet.

Our mayor, Lance Clayton, ensured his decision was made in everything. Rules were basically written in his middle name.

Don't go out of your house at night. Don't talk back to the guards. Don't disrespect anyone of a higher status than your own. Never leave the town. Don't have sex before marriage.

As for the marriage bit, it was always arranged. For some reason, Lance had a knack for picking people's partners, as though he aspired to be a newly formed cupid. Coincidentally enough, he saved plenty of woman for himself.

Nobody had rights. Not men. Not woman. Only the sorry excuse for a human who claimed to be our leader.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of our very own, Janet Bay," the priest began. He rested his aged hands on the corners of the wooden podium in front of him. His eyes did a quick sweep of the crowd in a need to draw us in. The coming part was always my least favourite. "Although we will miss her, we must take her mistake and remember it."

A sigh blew through my lips, causing my older sister, Cassie, to reprimand me with her sharp elbow in my gut. I winced but said nothing more.

"Janet was a sweet girl who lacked... guidance." Discreetly, I peeked over at her parents, who had stiffened from his words. "Disrespecting a guard is unacceptable. Janet knew this, yet she went against the rules of our town. She went against our way of life. With rebellion, there is consequence. With consequence, there is death."

My fingers curled around the hem of my bright yellow dress. Although it was a funeral, we were ordered not to wear the traditional black. Whenever someone died from 'consequence' we were forced to wear bright colours, as to say their death didn't matter in the slightest. Heat crawled onto my skin as I did well to hold back my need to scream.

Janet was my friend. My only friend. And the reason she even bothered with one of those guards...

I internally shook myself. That was another thing; we could not shed a tear at these sorts of events. Janet's parents were shaky and sniffling, but not one tear left their wavering eyes. It was a rule.