3. Jack and The Three Little Pigs

Skipping down th road, the little girl's spirits were lifted by the lovely wild flowers which seemed to vie for her attention, their dazzling colors sparkling in the early morning sun. Soon she quite forgot the talk she'd had with her mother, and paused before a brilliant array of pansies.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" A handsome young boy, with a shock of blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes just like her own, stood before her. "The name's Jack," he grinned. "I'm not from around these parts. Do you live here?" She nodded. "May I ask what your name is?"

Somewhere in her mind the girl remembered her mother's warning not to talk to strangers. But he's not really a stranger, she thought. He looks so much like me, and he's being friendly, and he has such a nice smile..

"My name's, er, Pansy..." she stammered, glancing at the flowers beneath her. It felt better to lie. She didn't want to disobey her mother, but the boy's charm was irresistible.

"Okay," he smiled. If you don't want to tell me your real name, how about I call you Little Red Riding Hood? After your cape..."

"Look, I'd love to talk to you, but I really have to get this basket over to my Grandmother's; she's very ill..."

"Oh, let me come with you!" he cried, jumping excitedly. "I'm on a journey myself. You see that mountain way over there?" Red Riding Hood followed where he pointed, and past the dark woods, far in the distance, she could see an even darker, more foreboding mountain. "An old, wicked giant lives up there," he said. "He's very bad, but he's also very rich. A long time ago, I found his castle. His brother lived there with his wife. I killed his brother and stole part of their fortune. And now I'm planning to go back for the rest, and hopefully I can slay him as well. You see, I'm a giant killer." It was then the girl noticed a silver pistol concealed in a belt around Jack's waist. She became nervous. "Oh, don't worry. This gun can take him down easy. I've used it lots of times. And if I come with you, I can give you protection. Please, can I join you? It gets lonely here on the road by myself." He was so young, fresh-faced and eager. A sweet fellow, really. Red Riding Hood relented.

"Well, alright," she said. "You can walk with me through the woods, I suppose. But at the end of the path, I'll have to leave you and go right to my grandmother's, okay?"

"Hooray! Let's go!" He brandished his pistol in the air. "Our fortunes await! I'll be living like a king before sundown!"

And off the two of them went, the boy skipping and waving his gun in the air, and the girl wandering among the fields of pansies, stopping every now and then to pick a few for a small bouquet.

When they reached the edge of the wood, Red Riding Hood hesitated. "What's wrong?" Jack asked, not wanting to break his stride.

"I'm just a little nervous," she confided. "The witch... she's supposed to live in these woods. We stole something from her, and she's too sick to come after us, but she might send someone to get it back."

Jack was more intrigued than frightened. "I never heard anything about a witch."

Red Riding Hood clarified. "Some call her the Black Woman ... her hair is black, her eyes are black, she dresses entirely in black. And her heart s black," She added for effect. Jack didn't seem to understand the danger that lay ahead. "She practices the dark arts, black magic. She does strange dances on the night of a full moon, and collects the bones and teeth of dead things. She's evil. I can't imagine what she would do to anyone she caught stealing from her..."

"You don't have to" grunted a voice from the thicket. They whirled around to see three small pigs approach.

"Talking pigs!"

"We're not pigs!" squeaked the littlest one, the runt. "At least, we didn't used to be. We were three human children, all brothers, about the same ages as you two. We lived on the other side of the wood. We knew about the witch." One of the other pigs began to root in the dirt, but the runt continued, "No one knew exactly who she was, or what she did, but we were all terrified of her. Our parents always warned us to keep far from her hut. We'd hear strange things, people told stories about the stuff they'd seen.

"One of the rumors was that she grew the most delicious strawberries in the world. They said they were enchanted, they could give you special powers. So one night my brother dared me to sneak into her garden and steal some strawberries. He made fun of me and called me a coward." He gave a mean look to the pig who still had his nose in the dirt. Without looking up, the other pig said, "I didn't force you to do anything. You didn't have to take my dare."

"Anyway, the three of us decided to do it together. So one night we crept into her backyard and saw the berries shining in the moonlight. We started picking and eating them. Oh, those berries! I never tasted anything sweeter or juicier in my life!" He closed his eyes, remembering. "I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. But then all of a sudden, lightning flashed in the sky and the witch was standing right in front of me. I saw that she had both of my brothers, one in each hand. I was rooted to the ground, I couldn't move I was so terrified. Then she laughed ... cackled, really... and the next thing I knew, my brothers' hands turned into hooves, their noses became snouts..." his voice grew soft and sad..."And little curly tails sprouted up behind them. I tried to scream, but all I could manage was an awkward squeal. That's when I realized all three of us had been changed into pigs."

Jack and the girl stayed quiet. The eldest pig spoke.

"So now we're cursed, you see," he said. "We had to leave our family and our town, since our own parents didn't recognize us and drove us off, and everyone else just wants to cook us for their Sunday roast. We have to live here in the woods and forage on our own, and keep an eye out for hungry hawks and wolves. And that," he concluded, "is what happens when you steal from the witch."

"How awful," murmured Red Riding Hood. "Is there any way we can help you?"

The eldest shook his head. "There's nothing you can do. As long as the witch is alive, her curse lives with her. Our only possible chance came when she began to suffer a terrible, mysterious ailment, and it looked like her days were numbered. But we now we've heard that she's come up with a potion to cure it, a sort of elixir. So there's no hope left."

The little girl was thrilled. "Yes there is!" she cried, reaching into her basket. "This is it right here! My mother was right ... sometimes people do have to do bad things in order to do good!" She proudly displayed the coveted bottle of medicine.

The three pigs gasped. "How did you..."

"My mother stole it from that mean old witch," she boasted. "I'm bringing it to my dear grandmother instead. Now she'll be cured, and the witch will die, and if what you said about the curse is true..." she could hardly contain herself..."then the spell will be broken and you three will be saved!"

They started to talk all at once. "Hooray!"

"Our hero!"

"How can we ever thank you!"

The eldest pig insisted, "Please, let us escort you through these woods. We'll make sure you don't run into any witches or wolves, and we'll show you the quickest way to your Grandmother's house. It's the least we can do for you, since you're going to save our lives and let us be human again!"

And so Jack, the girl, and the pigs all made their way into the forest, following the path that would help bring each of them to their own eventual destiny.

3. The Giant

"The trick, of course, is to put in just the right amount of cilantro." Cranch sprinkled a few herbs into the boiling pot. "Too much, and you overpower all the other flavors in the stew. You want to aim for what I like to call a 'flavor democracy'." He spoke with a fake scholarly accent.

The raven perched on his shoulder looked askance. "Please," he croaked, "You know you're no cook. Just like you're not really much of a giant. Only ten feet tall ... that's not exactly towering over anyone, is it?" He glided to the windowsill for a better view.

"I'm taller than you," Cranch didn't take his eyes off the stove, "and, I might add, I'm much better looking."

Raven chuckled. "Yeah, well then, we'd better find you some female action. Someone who's not afraid of your big, imposing ten-foot frame. Or intimidated by your Prince Charming good looks."

"Yeah, a ten-foot heartthrob. How do I ever manage to fight 'em off?" He shook his wild, shaggy locks in mock vanity and affected a beauty pose. Raven laughed.

"Seriously, though, we've been through this before and you never give me a straight answer. You're all alone up here now, why don't you look for a wife?"

"I'm not all alone, I have my dearest friend up here with me, telling me how handsome I am and critiquing my food."

"Cranch, you know what I mean. There's plenty of girls in the valley and beyond who'd be thrilled to have a guy like you..."

"...sure, if the price is right." Cranch became serious. "Don't think I don't know that my vast wealth is the only thing that attracts those women. I don't want someone like that."

He grew wistful as he pushed the potatoes around in the bubbling brown gravy. "Is it possible for an overgrown freak like me to find love among humans? I don't know. But if it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be."

He forced a smile. "So you see? You're not going to get rid of me that easy. You'll have to put up with my cooking a little bit longer."

Raven was silent. His oldest and closest friend was hiding behind his wry sense of humor again, and he knew better than to force the issue. He'd always been funny and easygoing, but ever since his brother had been robbed and brutally murdered by that boy (and his grief-stricken wife had died shortly thereafter), Cranch had taken even deeper refuge into his jokes and games. He'd stopped worrying about his appearance, and withdrew from his friends and contacts beyond the mountain. A pall settled over the castle, which had been in his family for generations. Dust and cobwebs collected everywhere, candle drippings from long-ago burnt out lamps littered the walls and floors. The lawns of the castle grounds, once lush and full of flowers, were now choked by weeds and crabgrass. Even the trees on the mountain were now stripped bare, the foraging deer and elk left to starve.

Cranch still had plenty of money, but only used it to purchase food and a few small supplies from the neighboring farmers, who eyed him with suspicion. Cranch never struck up any friendships, preferring the solace of his castle. Rather than try to reach out to him, the people of the valley feared him and kept their distance. His incredible height ... although small for a giant, as Raven had pointed out ... nevertheless branded him as an outcast. Humor and sarcasm were his only recourse.

Raven wished he could help. He'd grown up with Cranch, and the two friends were steadfast in their loyalty to each other, sharing both good times and bad. It pained him to see his friend this way, but there was nothing he could do but indulge his lighter side.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about any poor fair maidens getting poisoned from your food. Ugh ... that smell! What kind of meat is that, anyway?"

"Putrefied raven," Cranch replied, not missing a beat. "Funny, though, I think we're a little low here. I might need a bit more..." he lifted his eyes from the pot and grinned wickedly.

The bird shrugged nonchalantly. "Hmmph! You won't get any meat off of me. I'm too skinny and underfed, living with you."

"No need to worry. You're not going into my stew ...- this is a quality dish I'm preparing. Now, what did I do with those carrots?"

And on and on they joked, long into the night, the overgrown human and his raven friend, alone in a cold world, but secure in the warmth of each other's company.