Little Red Riding Hood: Dark and Twisted

My version of Little Red Riding Hood. Happy Halloween!

It all began on a seemingly ordinary day…To most people, it would have been a dreadfully gloomy morning, but for me, this weather could last all year round. The crisp, autumnal breeze feels like spirits rushing past you in a hurry, the amber and crimson leaves spiraling gracefully downward like spinning ballerinas, and the pumpkin-spiced delights were my absolute favourite! I slipped into my favourite, red cloak that my mother had sewn for me when I was just a little lass, and set forth towards grandpa’s dwelling, secluded in the heart of the woods, a mere half league from the village. Grandpa had always been my favourite storyteller, spinning tales of gallant knights and mystical creatures. Today, however, I was determined to bring him a basket of freshly baked pumpkin muffins, a treat he adored.
The path to Grandpa's cabin wound through the forest where a thousand dead leaves danced in the gentle breeze. The crunching of them beneath my naked feet was satisfying. I always tried my best to make the loudest crunch. As I walked, I imagined the stories grandpa would share and the laughter that would fill his cozy cabin.
As I ventured further into the woods, the vibrant hues turned dull and cold as the heavens darkened with thunderous clouds. It began to drizzle, fine little droplets. The gnarled branches of lifeless trees reached out, resembling skeletal hands, desperate to entrap me in their grasp. I shook off the creeping chill of unease, reminding myself that it was simply the season’s charm. I was on a noble mission, steadfast and resolute, unable to be swayed from my path to Grandpa’s cabin.
Suddenly, a rustling behind me sent icy tendrils of fear skittering down my spine. I turned quickly, my heart pounding wildly, but found nothing there. When I turned back around, a figure loomed before me—a towering man draped in tattered clothes. My instincts screamed for me to flee, to remember the warning my grandpa had told me: "Never speak to strangers, especially to the homeless."
“Good day, Little Red-Cap,” the man said with a voice that sounded dangerously smooth.
“Thank you kindly,” I replied, attempting to mask the terror rising in my throat.
“Whither away so early, Little Red-Cap?” he asked, his eyes glinting with an unsettling hunger.
“To my grandpa’s cabin,” I managed, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound composed.
“What do you carry in your apron?”
“Pumpkin muffins; I baked them for my sick grandpa, hoping to nourish him back to health,” I said, my heart racing as his gaze pierced through me.
“May I have one? I’ve not eaten in days,” he said, his hungry eyes locking onto my apron, filled with baked warmth. Though my heart ached at the sight of his figure, I must hold on to my grandpa’s word. “I’m sorry, but they are for my grandpa,” I stammered, edging past him while trying to ignore the chill that enveloped me.
I walked past the man and continued on my path, but he trailed behind, his footsteps inching closer and closer to me. “See, Little Red-Cap, how dark it is becoming; a storm approaches. Perhaps you should gather some firewood for your grandpa; he might grow cold in his sickness.”
Looking up, I saw the dark clouds roiling above us. Perhaps I should; it must be cold in Grandpa’s cabin. Grandpa will be so proud of me once he sees that I brought him some firewood. “I suppose I will!” I replied and began picking up sticks. As I picked up one stick, I fancied a better one further into the woods.
When I had gathered as many sticks as I could carry, I looked around for the homeless man, but he had vanished. Driven by the hope of reaching my grandpa’s warm cabin, I hastened onward with shaking hands and trembling limbs.
But as I arrived, my heart sank. It began to downpour, and to my horror, I found the cabin door ajar, an ominous invitation into the gloom within. I stepped inside, and a knot of fear tightened in my stomach as I inched closer to my grandpa’s bedroom.
“Good morning!” I called out, my voice echoing in the stillness, but no response came. As I drew closer to the bed, fear crept into the pit of my stomach. Wrapped in the bedclothes, breathing steadily. Yet, something felt amiss. With trembling hands, I pulled back the cover from his head. That is when I jumped back and fell to the floor. It wasn’t my grandpa who lay beneath those sheets; it was the homeless man I’d encountered in the woods! He wore my grandpa’s clothes. In an instant, he lunged at me, pinning me to the floor with unexpected strength. His breath was stale, like spoiled stew, as he leaned in close. He licked my cheek, growled with a manic fervor.
“Oh, what big, blue eyes you have!” he rasped in a voice full of malice. He pressed his lips to mine, rough and demanding.
“Oh, what full, pink lips you have!” Then he trailed his mouth down to my neck, his intentions unmistakable.
“Oh, what soft, fair skin you have!”
With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he released me and slammed the bedroom door shut, trapping me in this nightmare. Heart pounding, I crawled away. “Where is my grandpa?” I shouted, my voice cracking with fear.
“Take off your clothes, and I’ll tell you,” he commanded, his eyes roving over me like a wolf sizing up its prey. Trembling, I hesitated, terror battling with the fierce urge to know my grandfather’s fate. Slowly, I removed my clothes, leaving just my bra, panties, and my favourite red cloak.
“All of it!” he growled, his gaze heavy and hungry. Nausea twisted in my stomach as I slipped off my bra and panties, and his approval sent chills down my spine. “Good girl, Little Red-Cap! Now, turn around for me.” “PLEASE, JUST TELL ME WHERE GRANDPA IS!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
“Not until I see every part of you,” he growled, his eyes malicious. He picked up a pumpkin muffin from the floor and devoured it. My heart raced as I reluctantly turned around, the suffocating dread and humiliation of being exposed washing over me. I always told myself I wouldn’t be controlled as such, but there was nought I could do but comply. With an unsettling grin, he snatched up my discarded clothes and threw them into the fireplace with a laugh. Fear propelled me to follow him as he descended into the dim, damp basement of the cabin. There, illuminated by the flickering, dim lamp, my heart shattered as I saw my grandpa lying lifeless on the cold floor. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” I screamed, horrified as tears streamed down my cheeks. He closed the distance between us, wrapping his arm around me with a terrifying grip. “I’m your grandpa now! And if you don’t obey, you will share his fate. Now, dry those tears.” With horrifying calm, he picked up a knife and began to dismember my grandpa’s body, his laughter echoing sinisterly in the darkness.
He grabbed the pieces and led me to the kitchen, forcing me to cook a macabre dinner. As we sat to eat, he forced the pieces into my mouth and made me swallow. I nearly vomited, but I knew it would only end far worse for me if I did, so I ate the meat, telling myself it was only a steak or a piece of pork. After supper, the homeless man took me to Grandpa’s bed and tied me to the wooden bedframe. He left for a short while, and when he returned, he wore the skin of my grandpa’s face as a mask. He crept on top of me and slid inside me. “Call me grandpa, like a good girl, Little Reed-Cap!”