Little Red

6

The howling of the wolves was closing in on me as I ran. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, urging me to survive. I had to survive. Essie needed me to.

Branches snapped from behind me. I could see the curve that would eventually lead to Granny's house. Pumping my legs faster, I ignored the sound of feet slamming against the ground behind me. The creature behind me was breathing heavily, hungrily.

It was hungry for my blood.

I let out a shriek in relief when I saw the two story home several feet in front of me. I bolted forward, not daring to peek behind my shoulder, and I burst into the front door. Immediately, I spun on my heels and shut the door. There was a growling on the other side but it made no move to knock down the door.

My breathing was erratic and I did well to calm myself down. A few tears had rolled down my flushed cheeks. I wiped them away, naively thinking the worst had come and gone.

Then, I turned around.

There was a scream in the air. It wasn't until my throat started burning that I realized it was me who emitted such a shrilling noise. The wolves outside growled at the harshness to it. With my back pressed against the door, I examined the body mounted on the wall.

There was a stake driven through Granny's heart. She was in her night gown, although there were holes here and there. The thick stake stuck into the brick walls, keeping her up off of the ground. The blood soaked her clothing and stained her skin. There was even blood matted into her messy hair. The trail of blood seeped from her wound, dripping to make a pool down below her.

There was a deep gash on her face, deep enough to extrude bone. I nearly bent over and started throwing up, but instead stared in utmost horror and mortification.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was look at my dead grandmother and watch as each drop of blood rolled out of her body. My trembling hands pressed over my mouth, in attempts to stop my whimpering.

Dear God, she looked horrendous. I needed to look away, otherwise, I really would throw up.

The jolt from behind shook me from my turmoil. The wolves were growling louder, by then. Acting quickly, I pulled on the couch and brought it up to the door. It started vibrating with each time the wolf rammed into it.

I backed away from the door, trying to formulate some sort of plan. Running was out of the question; they were faster than me. I needed some sort of weapon...

Turning around and averting my gaze from the dead body, I sprang for the basement door. When I went there the first time, she'd mumbled something along the lines of keeping her cropping tools down in the basement. The moment my feet stepped foot down into the darkness, I felt a waft of cold air swallow me whole.

My hands fumbled on the walls for any flicker of light. Sighing in content, I found one and, immediately, light pooled into the area.

What I saw caused me to gasp. I tumbled back a few steps, slamming into the concrete walls behind me. The basement was full of weapons. Guns, knives, swords, things I couldn't even imagine knowing the name of.

My grandmother was some sort of assassin or something.

Shaking away the need to cry or throw up for real, I ran for the stack of guns, picking one up that didn't appear too heavy. Had I ever worked a gone before? Not a chance. I had no idea how to start it. Shuddering, I placed the gun back down and opted into a sword, deeming it more straight forward.

Another angry howl vibrated the entire house. Swallowing hard, I ambled up the staircase, clutching the sword between my hands. When I made it upstairs, I backed away from the front door as I saw it starting to splinter inward.