Fractured Fairytale
3 min
She is Wolf
Kelly Ta
Once upon a time—
Because that's how all disgustingly pretty lies began.
Everyone who knows the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. They know the girl. The sweet smile, the bright eyes, and the iconic crimson cloak that made her look like something out of a storybook painting.
They know the ending, too.
Poor, innocent child. Nearly devoured by the infamous Big Bad Wolf. But that wasn't the case at all...
The truth? Him simply being there at the wrong place at the wrong time certainly didn't help.
And she... well.
She was never the victim in this tale.
-
Hello, I'm Wolf.
Yes.
That Wolf—the one who was declared a villain in a children's novel written by some absolute blockhead who didn't bother to ask for my side of the story and instead happily went about slandering my good name for the whole world to watch and bark out in laughter.
Before you go sharpening your pitchfork and lighting your torches, let's make one thing very clear.
I did not eat that grandmother.
I didn't even consider it.
Now, some—okay, well most— of the world seems to think I'm the next "big bad," right alongside that show-off, good-for-nothing dirtbag from the three little pigs.
Which, for the record, was insulting.
He is my cousin.
A fact that I tried, unsuccessfully, to distance myself from, considering that we always sit next to each other at Thanksgiving.
Now tell me. Since when is taking a simple walk through the forest you live in a crime? Since when is checking up on the sweet old lady who lives there also a crime?
Apparently, both are.
Because the entire world certainly thinks so.
Trust me, I didn't eat her, but no one bothered to hear me out on my side of the story when all of this blew up. And now that evil little girl is a celebrity, walking away free of her crime while I'm stuck with her consequences as she's being worshipped by little kids around the world.
Funny how that works.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me take you back. Wayyyyyy back.
So there I was, walking through the beautiful forest I lived in. The sights every day were beautiful, and all of those who lived in it were peaceful.
As I said before, I would have never hurt that kind grandmother.
Unlike a certain little brat.
I had a basket with me that day. I wanted to pick berries for lunch... perhaps dinner if I found enough.
It took a good while, but after finally finding a bushel full of them, I happily started to pick. They looked ripe. Perfect. For a moment, everything felt calm. Normal.
Then a scream that tore through the forest so sharply it felt like it was hell clawing out from the grounds.
I had every intention of running in the opposite direction, like any sane creature would have done.
Like I should have done.
But nooooo, against my better judgment... against my startled mind at the time...
I ran toward it.
The sound led me straight to the small home that the elderly woman lived in.
The door was unlocked.
That alone should have told me something was wrong.
It didn't stop me.
I pushed it open.
It creaked. The air inside felt... off.
Too still.
Too heavy.
And then something dripped.
Slow and steady.
I stopped breathing. "...Hello?" I called, quieter this time.
No answer.
A wet sound tapped the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Carefully, I stepped further inside.
In hindsight, this was a mistake.
A catastrophic one.
Man... I wish I had been blind the moment I saw it.
Because there she was—
Little Red Riding Hood.
Standing beside the bed.
Her crimson cloak draped perfectly over her shoulders, neat and untouched, as if nothing in the world could stain it.
Her posture was relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Her face was smiling.
Not scared.
Not crying.
Smiling.
And the grandmother... Oh, sweet, sweet cheese. She was no longer in any condition to be saved.
My mind went completely blank.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't even breathe.
She turned her head slowly.
Our eyes met.
And in that moment, she knew.
She knew I had seen everything.
There was no fear in her expression.
No panic.
Just something quiet.
Something certain.
Something... pleased.
Like she had been waiting.
Then she screamed.
The door burst open behind me.
Heavy footsteps. A man's voice.
"The wolf—!" she cried, stumbling back, clutching her cloak tightly around herself. "He—he ate her—!"
I blinked.
Slowly.
Because surely, surely this wasn't happening.
The hunter looked at me.
I looked at him.
Then back at her.
Her cloak was spotless.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
Because I had seen it.
The way she wiped her mouth.
The way the red hid everything.
No one else noticed.
Of course, they didn't.
They saw what they expected to see.
And I...
I was exactly what they expected.
They dragged me out before I could say anything that mattered.
Not that it would have helped.
Her tears drowned out everything.
The story spread quickly.
The poor girl.
The monstrous wolf.
The tragic grandmother.
By the time I tried to defend myself, it didn't matter anymore.
The story had already decided who I was.
So yes.
I suppose I am the Big Bad Wolf.
The villain of the story.
The monster children whisper about before they go to sleep.
But if you ever find yourself deep in the woods and you hear a scream, please, please take my advice for the forest's sake:
Keep walking.
Because some monsters don't chase.
They wait.
And some stories...
Were never meant to tell the truth.
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