A/N I just kind of thought that the whole "happily ever after" crap was a little over done, and I much prefer the Grimm brothers original take on the story, though I changed it up a bit.
Are you afraid of the big, bad wolf?
Her boots crunched against the crude gravel road, the dim overcast of trees blocking out the scarce rays of falling sunshine. The day had been fair, a little amount of clouds and hardly any rain, though she'd yet to spot any sort of animal save for a single crows, it's black feathers glistening in the setting sun. It seemed to follow her, for every time she turned her head, there it sat, it's beady eyes staring at her. It was unsettling, and she gripped her straw basket closer.
Twilight began to creep up against the sky, the fainstest hint of pink lingering against the clouds. The moon rose higher, creating an eerie, almost mournful, downcast of light. She stared down at her red skirt, trying to keep her young mind away from childhood stories of ghost and gouls of the night. She caught a fleeting glance of a shadow, the crooked branch of the tree it belonged to making shape of a twisted arm, with curled, sharp claws reaching out towards her. She quickened her pace, wincing with each crunch her steps made. Her heart thudded against her chest, her blood coursing with a painful speed through her thin little veins. Her eyes were wide as she heard a bristle of leaves, and she mentally scorned whomever had told her those ghost stories.
It's the wind, that's all, she told herself, now nearly skipping into a jog, stretching her legs as far as possible with each stride. The contents of her basket shuffled about as she swung it at her side. She pulled her hood lower, thinking of the child-like logic that you can't see them, they can't see you, which, for her sake, she repeated as the bristles grew closer.
A chill crept up her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck shot up like weat grass. Her breaths were quick, as though her lungs couldn't carry the thick night air. Tears burned at her eyes as though a fire had been lit behind them, and she desperatly wanted to sink back into her bed next to the little fire that was barely lit against the brisk wind, which sent her hair flapping against her skin. The trail, now only illuminated by the scarce moonlight, became a blurred haze as she broke into a sprint, her cape flying wildly behind her.
Her feet pounded blindly against the ground, and she could hear the pump of her blood running through her ears. Tree branches drew in closer, making a jagged aisle of crooked fingers and shadowed arms. She could hear her heart thud around her ribcage and the wind whip around her.
Despite the noise of her own body, she could still hear the bristling of the leaves, and cawking of the crow still following behind her.
A mesh of course brown fur caught the corner of her eye, flashing beside her and into the green brustle. The shock made her stop, her feet planting themselves back into the pebbled road. She found herself in a clearing, the dark blue sky looming over her, not a star to be seen. The moon was blocked out, thin slivers of ghostly mist devouring the once comforting white orb. Her hands shook, her little straw basket trembling at her side. How had she gotten so lost, she wondered, hadn't she just been on the trail?
The brown blur darted past her once more, disepearing around her. She spun on her heels, her hood sliding from her head.
"Who's there?" she sqeaked, feeling as though there were a veil over her naked eyes. For a moment, there was no answer. The thin muscles of her shoulders tightened, and she eased her feet back. Her boot cracked as it crunched a stray twig, blown astray by the morning wind. She gasped, leaping back still until she felt the rough bark of one of the circling trees slam against her shoulder. The branch overhead trembled, it's leaves sprinkling down on her.
A growl floated through the air, faint and wavering like an echo. So faint, in fact, she didn't quit believe she heard it at all, though it came once more.
"Who's there?" she cried, her voice on the edge of hysteria.
The brown cowl of fur strutted from the underbush. She saw his eyes, deep, endless black she felt she could drown in them, glistening with a wicked amusment. Through the viel of darkness, she could see them brimmed with red, giving them a cruel gleam.
The teeth, jagged sharp, were bared, revealing muddy pink gums. The fangs tinted yellow, bright against the course brown fur. Sharp enough, she measured, to crunch her neck like a twig. She could tell, though blocked by hair, that it's skin stretched tightly over it's bone, laying over the bones of it's cheeks, giving it a deathly appearence. It's mouth, somehow twisted into malice grin that didn't seem to belong with the rest, stretched open, formed words, put into a low growl.
"Good evening," he said, mockingly polite, "where are you going at such a late hour?"
She spoke in a whisper, "M-my grandmother's..."
His paw, well the size of her head, twitched in the dirt, "Why would such a sweet little girl be visiting her grandmother so late at night?" He lifted his paw, and she saw his claws, sharp as talons and ragged as a knife.
The beast's breath was a thin mist, floating from his grimy mouth and evaporating into the night air. "I...I was j-just...". The basket flew from her quivering fingers as she swung her arm aimlessly through the air, spinning around the tree and into the thick underbrush of the forest.
The wolf howled, and she heard the riiip of the basket as it was shredded to pieces, by what she imagined had to be one fowl swipe of a claw. Wet, throaty snarls seemed to bounce from every direction, and the nightime birds that lurked the woods fluttered from their perches, escaping in the one way she wish she could.
Branches swung at her, slapping at her face and arms. She didn't seem to notice. She was horribly aware of the sound of those meaty paws thumping against the ground, louder and louder.
The crack of the largest branch was defeaning, the thwack of it hitting the ground beside her feet making her cry out. The wolf's fur whizzed past her, his bloodshot, endless black eyes suddenly glowing among the infinite darkness of the forest. She screamed again, stepping back against the fallen branch. It rolled under her heel, sending her sprawling to the damp grass. His snout was inches from her own nose. His putrid breath assaulted her nostrils like a wave, making bile rise in her throat. She inched back as he snarled, so quielty she could barely make out the words,
"That wasn't very nice."
The wolf brought his paw back, slashing it at her shoulder. The blood spread, making her deep red cloak plaster itself tighter to her like a second skin. She reached back and wrapped her fingers around the closest thing she could: The branch.
She heaved it forward, snapping it from the rest, and brought it down against the wolf's cheek. He made a noise similar to a dying dog, falling to his side, leaving just enough room for her to scuttle away.
He howled after her, once more at her toes.
Her legs pumped forward rythmically, carrying her to what had to be the deepest part of the scarcely explored forest. The trees seemed to glare at her, their shadows casting a codemned circle around the tiny clearing. The wolf found his way to her, prowling from a bush. She could see his muscle, hard and as thick as tree branches, twist under his skin as he walked. He had, she noticed, an angry red scar running down his furry cheek, distorting his lips so the corner was lower then the rest. Her ever-active imagination conjured gruesome, horrifying stories surrounding it.
Why didn't you just go at noon like you were supposed to? she scorned herself, backing up against the line of trees, mockingly blocking her only means of escape.
Snarls. All she heard were bloodthirsty, throat-tearing snarls that sounded as though who ever made them could cheerfully rip her to shreds.
Before she could think, her feet were swept from under her, sending her to the ground with a quaking thud. Stars flashed around her.
His breath was warm on her cheek, and she could see his yellowed teeth glinting in the dim moonlight. He drew closer, and she could count the grey in his fur.
"Maybe," he continued, "I should teach you some manners."
THE END
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A/N Hmm...I'm feeling morbid, and I think this dragged on a little more then it should have. I just didn''t like the orginial ending. No, she never made it to dear ol' Granny's. Live with it.