Red Riding Hood's Not-So-Bad Big Wolf (Grimmer Fairy Tales Book 1) by Hayton Lee

Author:Hayton, Lee [Hayton, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Retold Fairytales
Publisher: Lee Hayton
Published: 2017-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

The old cottage obviously had somebody in residence. I can tell when a mammal is inside there. It pulses with a distinct rhythm, appears a different shade of mossy green. Warmth, but not quite that either. More like, presence. You feel a presence. Animals and humans fill up more than just physical space.

Anyway, I was happy enough. As I said, it was the height of summer and a nice day to boot. There was a chance that the old one waiting wouldn't have too many outer wrappers to tear through to reach the tender flesh within.

Oh, yes. I can smell a human’s age a mile off. Elderly skin earns its sweat through a different means than young.

I nosed the door open, it's always left off the latch. Yeah, hang your head in shame if you want. I'm not the one who started pointing fingers and judging. Inside, an old woman was tucked up in the bed. She lay on her back as though the act of sitting upright required too much energy. Her rheumy eyes stared blankly at the empty ceiling, the empty walls. Colorless, apart from that blood spatter I mentioned earlier. We do try to keep it clean and tidy. Would be nice if someone with opposing thumbs occasionally bothered to give it a bit of a scrub down.

She turned to look at me. Her face held no surprise. No shock. No confusion. She nodded once, and I liked that. The old woman had some courage. She looked death in the eye and decided for herself to welcome it on in.

I hunched my shoulders low as a sign of respect and padded in slowly. I didn't growl or anything, and I freely admit, sometimes I do. The taste of fear is a real thing. Adrenaline has quite the spicy flavor. Nothing like a quick basting in that to make a nice and tasty treat.

But not this time. As I said, I respected the old lady’s brave soul. Do you know, when I put my paws up on the coverlet she reached out and ran her fingers through the ruff of my neck. For someone who couldn't even sit up, that took more strength than she had to give. One last gesture of kindness to the world that treated her like a piece of garbage.

She smiled at me and the light of humble intelligence in her eyes was the only bright thing in that cottage. I nuzzled against the side of her face and licked a single salty tear that ran down her cheek.

Then I…

Well, let’s just say I set her spirit free and hopefully to a better place. She didn't deserve what this world dished out to her, that's for sure.

It was only once she was dead that I saw a final gift she'd left for me. Each garment she wore had been unbuttoned, untied, zipped opened. Her fingers, crippled and twisted with arthritis, had spent time and pain to make things easier on me. Ahh-wooooooo.

My heart breaks sometimes, it surely does.

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