by Lee Hayton
Holding me accountable for your failings won’t strike this so-called tragedy from the record. Tomorrow another deposit will turn up. No, forget tomorrow. There’s probably someone waiting for my pack members in the death cottage today.
The Huntsman tells a good story, but a story is all that it is. Wandering about in the woods, hearing a scream for help. Poor old grandma didn’t have the strength to cry out left in her. Goodness knows why the little red-hooded menace was headed there. To take her elder a final meal, perhaps. If so, the greedy goblin had eaten that herself.
My suspicion is the huntsman was on his way there to make his own deposit. A dying relative, a deformed newborn. We've seen the whole range dumped in there. He might have been checking to ensure the last bag of human suffering he'd left there had been dealt with. Who knows? The only thing I know for sure is that old lady didn't scream once. Not when I started by tearing out her throat.
Oh, now what? You're shocked. I've been talking about this for an hour at least. Did you think we sat by their bedsides holding their gnarled hands or their webbed newborn fingers, and waited until they stopped breathing on their own?
Why have you gone so pale?
Hm. If you don't speak soon, I'll have to draw my own conclusions. And they won't shed a great light on you, though I should have suspected that you were familiar with the place based on your inquiry.
I can’t pretend the death is painless. Even an idiot could spot that lie. But it's quick. And the creatures of the forest are grateful. Us wolves for keeping our bellies full when times could otherwise have been lean. The rabbits are overjoyed, frolicking about. They know we can hardly be bothered to chase them, except when we're training our wee ones. A gazelle came over to thank you lot personally once, did you hear about that? It was a kind and generous gesture. She didn't get a word out before a hunter shot her, but she was truly thankful until that bullet pierced her heart.
What's the time now? I don't understand why the jury is taking so long to make up their minds. Honestly, the evidence isn't going to change the longer they stare at it.
Eh? Oh, do I really need to go through that bit again. You can read the trial transcript for yourself, can't you? It's all in there. Unless that stenographer is playing fast and loose with his records.
Okay. For you. You've been such a good listener so far. Grab me a cup of coffee for my bowl to ensure I stay awake, and I'll take you through to the end.
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. If the world created me and my kind for anything, it was to hunt and outmaneuver prey in a game of physical prowess and wit. Our prize: to lose or win a full belly of steaming hot animal, tangy with fear. It wasn't to nose our way inside a coffin somebody built large and strong in the darkest part of the woods. It wasn't to pluck a victim out of bed and let our skills fade away.
My great-great-grandfathers would be ashamed of me. Maybe that’s partly to blame for my lackluster defense. Look at how quickly I turned to the easy meal. Oh no, I don’t like rabbits. Oh no, Miss Red Coat stamped her loud feet up to my favorite fishing spot and stuck her smelly sweaty toes into the stream. Guess I’ll have to resort to walking to the take-out place to pick up an instant dinner for the young ones again.
You humans. Everything you touch turns nasty. Your hearts must be soiled black with decay. What kind of animal would construct a death house to dump their mothers and fathers and sons and daughters in? How could you do that and live with yourself afterward?
Oh, that's right. You don't, do you? You exist in a fairy tale land where the dark creatures of the forest are to blame for everything. There are so many mirrors in the world. I should think it’s time people took a good, long look at themselves.
I’m sorry for growling. My anxiety is getting the better of me. Also, that coffee didn’t wake me at all. I still feel as though this is a dream. I don’t understand how this place makes such a terribly bitter drink without using any caffeine.
They have a decision back? Well, about time.
It’s strange. I was looking forward to this being over, but now my heart is thumping about in my chest like a jackrabbit. I wish I had the courage of that old woman. Maybe if I channel her bravery, I can get through this. Here goes nothing.
Chapter Five
What a disaster. I’d shake my head in surprise and dismay, but I’ve grown so used to your bizarre behavior, I can’t honestly lay a claim to either one. Guilty as charged, your honor. What I wouldn’t give to take that asshole jury into a cell for a minute or two. Still, now my fate is sealed I needn’t worry about exercising my good manners. Hold there a moment while I… Ah, that’s better.
Yes, wolves like to fart. Would you enjoy me burping up some of that dreadful coffee while I’m at it? Pleased to help out in any way I can.
Wait, don’t go. I haven’t related the whole of my tale yet. Those fellows cut me off with their objections and their posturing. I want to get my side on the record, even if the record is your lowly newspaper.
I told you about the grandmother. I hold my hands up for her murder, though that’s not the way I’d phrase it. The court shall regret that charge by next year. No member of my pack will push their luck visiting the old cottage again. Not for a long time. Not even if they’re starving. If their pups are, well, maybe. But it’s the height of summer, not much chance of that.
So, on the next occasion a body is dumped in there, thi
nk on this. Instead of a wolf quickly and efficiently dispatching them into a peaceful afterworld, they’ll die slowly of thirst or starvation.
Don’t shake your head at me. You’re not a damn fool, we’ve established that. If you were, would I have talked your ear off for so many hours? No.
The first person to use that place won’t notice any different but wait until the second turns up, and the third. Putting grandma or grandpa or a newborn three-eyes no-feet into a bed already crammed full of dead bodies may not be quite so easy a fairy tale to shape your fabricated beliefs about.
It was that damn girl’s fault. Everything about this case always comes back to her. She looked innocent enough on the path through the woods, but I have to admit now—she does have a certain low cunning. Sufficient to stitch me up anyways, and I fancy myself that I’m no slouch.
I’ve already explained to you of the dear old woman’s final gift to me. I pulled her clothing off without having to tear a single thread. They lay on the floor while I chowed down on my meal. When my belly was heavy, I turned to leave. There were youngsters waiting back home for me to regurgitate up their lunch.
Even with my stomach so full it stretched uncomfortably with every movement, there was still a lot of the old lady left. I can chow down with the best of them, but a wolf has his limits.
I only mention this because at the trial they kept harping on and on about me wanting to eat the two of them. As though I could! Another ridiculous assumption allowed to go unchallenged.
There’s no way I could carry her the rest back to the pack, and no need to. I pulled her out of the cabin and propped her up against the rotted log behind. That’s a drop spot for any of our members out that side of the woods. We don’t even mind if the inferior critters take a bite. If it’s outside the cottage, they know they’re welcome.
I should have set off straight away. But I told you I’d just eaten. I felt too tired and lazy to move. Instead, I nosed my way inside the empty room again. After spending a few minutes licking the floor clean—to be tidy—I curled up in a satisfied ball, nose to and fell asleep.
I should have smelled her a mile off. If I'd been younger, my senses keener, perhaps I would have. But these days I spend half my time being idle. Chasing after butterflies when in the times past, I would have been hunting down my prey.
And, while I was in a slumber and happily dreaming, Red Riding Hood finally reached the death cottage. She crept inside to find the bed of her grandmother empty. Just as well. She’d have faced a tough time answering to her theft of the food in the basket.
What's that? Flowers? Why the hell in the world would anybody pick flowers? The forest floor grows them for all creatures to glory in. Bees feed on their pollen and some buds later fatten into fruits to be eaten by our prey. If you pluck the stems, they just die.
Seriously? Every time I learn a new fact about you humans, the less I understand you. Why would you give each other gifts of death, when you can grow them as gestures of love in your own garden? Why is everything you touch so horrible? Each revolting decision you make is tinged with destruction and decay.
So, no. Obviously, I didn’t know that little Red Cap would cover her guilt over eating the food by bringing her grandmother a basket full of dead foliage. If I had realized, it wouldn't have warmed my heart to her, I can tell you that.
I don't understand what that girl was thinking. The mother, in her testimony, said they had a dog. Surely she knows, if Rover doesn’t like dress-up then neither would a wild wolf. I’ve known dogs that can't even handle a knitted collar. They would run in circles forever if you let them, trying to bite it off. Did she really believe that a fully grown male of my standing in the pack would appreciate being dressed up in her dead grandmother's clothes?
I woke up with some weird bonnet tied around my jaw. My snout was being tickled by the drooping edge of lace. The Red Demon had one of my paws stuck into the armhole of the woolen dressing gown. Then she put me through the indignity of throwing her leg over my back to try to ride me like a pony.
That jury in there, they made the wrong decision. If you'd handed me the lawbooks earlier, I would’ve found the correct terminology for my defense.
Provocation.
That's the only thing I have left to say to you. Sure, she got a tad scared, and a bit clawed at, but that little Red Riding Hood was lucky. I couldn't even bite her stupid face off because she'd clamped my jaws shut with a blue lace ribbon. Then the damn huntsman saunters in and picks her up and runs away. Leaving me there with a bonnet and a wooly coat at the end of a stinking hot day.
Stop laughing at me! I’m not some plaything here to provide you with entertainment. You said you were going to write a serious article. You said you’d tell the people my side!
Come back. Come back at once. I’ll tear that notebook into pieces. I’ll tear you, limb from limb.
Ahh-wooooooo.
Thank you for reading!
I hope you enjoyed the first instalment in my Retold Fairy Tale series, Grimmer Fairy Tales. If you’re looking for another instalment, please check on the following page for other titles in this series.
Looking for something a bit different?
If you enjoy short stories then I can highly recommend the Gamers Universe series from S R Witt. He writes LitRPG tales that combine the best parts of gaming in story form for a great adventure (and no getting kicked back to the start of the scene when you accidentally die!)
The series has the following shorts, so far:
Operation: Catspaw: A Gamer's Universe Story
Operation: Snowblind: A Gamer's Universe Story
Operation: Pirates vs Drones: A Gamer's Universe story
Look out for Hive, he’s my favorite (even if his approval scores trend a bit low).
About Me - Lee Hayton
Traveling is a great expander of ideas and the understanding of other cultures, and although I’ve explored this facet of the world many times, in the end I’ve always made the return journey to my home—just a hop, skip, and a jump from my birthplace.
I love to entertain readers with a good story, whether it’s one designed to make your blood curdle with fear or have you explode into fits of laughter. I’m delighted you’ve found this story, which introduces you to my “World War Magic Series” world. Feel free to explore this land in more detail over in Ye Olde Amazon Shoppe.
Stay in Touch
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Read All the Things!
Bitter Magic (World War Magic)
Rebels and Runes (featuring Caged Magic - World War Magic)
Cinderella’s Not-So-Ugly Stepsister (Grimmer Fairy Tales)
Red Riding Hood’s Not-So-Bad Big Wolf (Grimmer Fairy Tales)
Eating Crow (the Birdman)
Cupid’s Bow (featuring Monstrous Love)
A Mongrel, A Bard and Witches, Oh my! (Face the Music)
WereEagles Fear to Tread (Face the Music)
Gun (Gun Apocalypse)
Skeletal
Writing as Katherine Hayton (my “legal” but uncomfortably long for book covers’ name)
The Tide
Winter Solstice
The Second Stage of Grief
The Three Deaths of Magdalene Lynton
Breathe and Release
Found, Near Water
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