Ride For Our Lives

Ride For Our Lives

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación vie, jun 21, 2019
A breath of cold air hits my face as I enter the chilling forest. The alarm bells are loud and urgent. I turn to face the once happy castle I called home for 15 years. I turn away pulling the black hood that my grandmother made for me over my head. I clutch her old basket. The once phnomial little red riding hood was dead. The only person left is me. Her granddaughter.
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bigbadwolf
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What if the big bad wolf wasn't so diffrent from little red riding hood. What if Red had no family and Granny was just someone who took her in off the street. What if we have had it wrong the whole time?

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