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Created on 2012-01-09 03:43:11 (#1402829), never updated

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Name:	ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴅ.

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the better to eat you with, my dear,
or so the story went.
They'd told her to stay away from Mr. Wolf. Ten years ago, he moved back into town from the city, and ten years go, a few bloody things happened, the sort of things that people only talk about in hushed voices and hypotheticals. It hadn't been her fault, really, she'd only been a sweet young thing when it happened, still knock-kneed and budding and eager to please. But there's only so much satisfaction that can be gleaned from yes, mothers and no, mothers and why thank you, grandmas. In the end, could anyone really blame Little Red for wandering from home and off the beaten path, only to find herself on the back stoop of Mr. Wolf's porch? The neighborhood had erupted then with whispers and scandal and furtive glances. Red's beau, the Woodsman, had done his best to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the gossip, but there's only so much the quiet folding of hands can do to cover up a throat's worth of bruises. In the end, there had been blood and on everyone's hands (oddly enough, mostly Red's), and when they found her and asked her are you alright ma'am she'd said nothing but stared with her large blue eyes (the better to see you with, my dear, or at least that's what she told them). Mr. Wolf never really had the chance to tell his side of the story, but was there any real point to the exercise when it was his tale against Red's?

According to Mr. Wolf, he's gotten better. Reformed, even; a brand new life. (Which is more than Little Red got out of the exchange.) Not so little anymore, she upgraded the Woodsman from beau to husband and the little cottage at the edge of town for a big Cape Cod with a wraparound porch. But that's just window dressing to what is, more or less, the same old grind. Red's smile is very much the same but there's a hunger now in her eyes. Because once you stray from the beaten path, there's never really any going back.