Quite Contrary

by Richard Roberts

  “You want to kill me. Why risk your life to save me?” the little girl asked next.

  “I love you, Red Riding Hood. I can’t let you die without having your love in return,” said the Wolf.

  Now doubt wormed its way into Red Riding Hood’s heart, but she refused it. The Wolf had chosen to be wicked, embraced his cruelty rather than refusing it, and that was the most important difference of all. She turned away from the exit he held open for her, and swam down into the flooded belly of the ship.

  “I judge you anew,” the boat declared, and it spat her out into the water.

  Her pet rat found her there, and pulled her up on shore. She had not expected to ever see him again, and she swept him into her arms.

  “Do not worry. I am here to protect you again,” her rat said.

  Red Riding Hood held him tighter, because his protection was not what she craved. Even Red Riding Hood can get lonely. Her fear of the cruel love of the Wolf made her appreciate the gentle, faithful love of her pet more than ever before.

  She could not say that, so instead she said to him, “We have to run. The Wolf is still chasing me. He may never stop chasing me. If he catches me, he will kill me, and I am afraid to die.”

  “I will run with you to the ends of the Earth, but please, help me first. I helped the princess escape, but I could not protect her. Now she is caught in a trap. If you do not save her, I fear she will die,” the rat said in return.

  Fear gripped Red Riding Hood’s heart tighter. While the Wolf still struggled to escape the boat, she needed to run, and run, and run, to find a place to hide or a way to save herself. She wanted to take back her rat and escape her own fate, even though that would leave the princess to die.

  She refused to give in to that fear, to be that selfish. “If you want me to save the princess, I will.”

  The rat led her away to a city made of iron, the city the princess should have ruled if she had not been kidnapped by fairies. Without her, it had become a dark and lifeless place. The rat had led her to its very center to reclaim her crown. Red Riding Hood found the princess lying in a circle of darkness next to a wooden puppet, in front of the crown she had not been able to reach.

  Guilty and sad, the rat said, “In that darkness, you are attacked by your own wickedness. We made a puppet, a perfect innocent, and I thought it would have no evil to give in to. The princess went to save the puppet, and I thought that her kindness was so great and her wickedness so small, she would be safe. I was wrong both times.”

  “Now there is only one thing left to try,” said Red Riding Hood.

  She stepped into the darkness, and her own wickedness rose up inside her. She felt nothing but cruelty and selfishness, could see only memories of hate and pain. Unlike the good princess and the innocent doll, Red Riding Hood knew how to do the right thing even when everything inside her was wrong. She took the crown and placed it on the princess’s brow, releasing the spell.

  The princess reclaimed her birthright and her city. Red Riding Hood reclaimed her faithful pet rat.

  “Thank you for saving the princess. Now we should run, because the Wolf is catching up and I have already asked too much of you,” he said.

  “I can’t. Look at the wooden puppet you made, helpless and alone. I want to run, but if I don’t help it, no one ever will,” Red Riding Hood answered.

  So, Red Riding Hood took the wooden puppet, and she and the puppet and the rat went down to the delta, where the voodoo witches live. They are the experts on making life, but when the very first witch wanted to saw off the puppet’s hand, Red Riding Hood learned that voodoo is a very cruel magic indeed. She knew too well what kind of person is made by being cruel to an innocent.

  “There must be another way to bring the puppet to life,” Red Riding Hood said.

  “She will have to find it herself. The chase is over and I have caught you,” the Wolf answered.

  Red Riding Hood had chosen to save others rather than obey her own fear, so her fears had come true. The Wolf had found her.

  The rat stood in the Wolf’s way, and shouted, “Run!” Unfortunately, he was only a rat, and the Wolf slapped him aside with ease.

  Then to everyone’s surprise, the wooden doll stood in the Wolf’s way. “Run!” she shouted, like the rat. She had been alive barely any time, but what she had seen in that time was Red Riding Hood trying to save her. She had learned to want to save others in turn. Unfortunately, she was only a wooden doll, and the Wolf slapped her aside with ease.

  Now there was no one to save Red Riding Hood. The Wolf growled, “I love you, Red Riding Hood. I am mad with love, and I can’t resist my love any longer. Love me as a wolf by hunting with me, or love me as a little girl by dying.”

  Red Riding Hood did not want to die. With the Wolf in front of her, she was terrified of dying. She did not want to hunt with him, to hurt other little girls. She hated the memories she’d seen in the circle of shadows.

  She hesitated, refusing to choose, and in that hesitation the witches of the bayou came to see who had been shouting. Furious at the interruption, the Wolf attacked them. Red Riding Hood grabbed the wooden doll and her rat, and ran away.

  Red Riding Hood ran, but the Wolf was right behind her. She ran from the delta to the high cliff by the sea, the cliff so high it seems like a mountain. She ran right into the arms of the princess of the Wind People, who live on that mountain.

  “Who are you, and what are you so afraid of?” the princess asked.

  The Wolf caught up at that very moment. “She is Little Red Riding Hood, and nothing will stop me from making her mine,” the Wolf answered.

  The Wind People were kind and tried to stand in the Wolf’s way. It didn’t matter. The Wolf’s voice turned Red Riding Hood’s heart icy with fear, and she ran away. The Wind People could only slow the Wolf down, but it gave Red Riding Hood time to escape.

  She ran away from the sea, into the woods, and hid in the cottage full of webs.

  “Sweet little girl, you look tired. Step into my parlor and tell me your name,” said the spider witch who lived there.

  Red Riding Hood had no time to agree or refuse. The Wolf burst through a window and growled, “She is Little Red Riding Hood, and she belongs to me.”

  Red Riding Hood ran. The witch, angry that her victim had been scared off, tangled the Wolf in her webs. All she could do was slow him down, but it gave Red Riding Hood time to escape.

  She ran farther into the woods, and swam across a lake, holding onto the wooden puppet girl to help her float and with her rat riding atop her head. The Children of the Water Mother lived in that lake, and they flocked around her, crying, “Stop and play with us, little girl, and tell us your name!”

  The Wolf leapt out of the woods and into the water, saying, “She is Little Red Riding Hood, and I will have her love no matter who tries to stop me.”

  “We’ll play that game!” cried the mischievous Children of the Water Mother. They swept the Wolf down through the lake and the river at the end. Red Riding Hood climbed out of the far side of the lake and kept running.

  Red Riding Hood ran, and soon her rat spoke up to warn, “We’re heading back to your home.”

  “It’s the only direction left. I’ve been up and down and from one corner of the world to another, and the Wolf has chased me everywhere,” Red Riding Hood said.

  Red Riding Hood and her rat and the puppet passed an old doctor’s office as they fled, and the doctor called out, “What are you doing way out here, little girl? Come inside and meet my daughter!”

  “I have to keep running. The Wolf can’t be far behind,” said Red Riding Hood.

  “I don’t think it’s safe. He looks like a wicked man,” the wooden doll said. Her life was short so far, but it had been full of very good and very wicked people.

  The rat didn’t care about the wicked doctor. He cared that Red Riding Hood’s steps fell unevenly and her arms trembled and her breath came hoarsely. Afraid and exhausted, she could not run much
farther. “Let the Wolf catch up. If a wicked man gets in his way, we don’t care which one dies.”

  The rat had been right about how tired and afraid Red Riding Hood had become. She didn’t know who to argue with now, so she took the rat’s advice and rested and let the wicked man make her dinner. At last the wicked doctor left the house, saying, “I have a surprise for you, little girl. Wait here, and my daughter will keep you company.”

  “Now we can escape before he springs his trap,” said the rat.

  “It’s too late. Now I’ve caught you and there’s nowhere to run,” said the Wolf. He stood in the door, blocking the only way out, and at that moment the wicked doctor’s daughter came out of her room.

  “Hello! Are you the visitors my father told me to greet?” she asked.

  Red Riding Hood, the rat, and the puppet girl all said nothing. They were shocked, for they had been certain the daughter was a lie the wicked doctor used to lure in his victims.

  Wolves are never short on words. “You must be very innocent to not know who I am,” he said.

  “I suppose I must be. My, what big teeth you have!” the daughter exclaimed. The Wolf could not resist that temptation, and he leapt.

  The Wolf ate the wicked man’s daughter right there in front of Red Riding Hood. It was not clean or pretty. He did not swallow her whole, but tore her apart while she still lived. He was too busy feeding to notice Red Riding Hood escaping the building.

  Only Red Riding Hood’s body escaped. She had been afraid of being killed by the Wolf, but now she had seen him kill in person, and it was more horrible than she had dreamed. Her fear choked her so tightly that without the wooden puppet and the rat supporting her, she could not have kept running.

  The power of her fear let loose her own wickedness. After seeing the Wolf murder she could not ever join him and help him hunt, but there was another way. The Wolf loves innocent girls, her wickedness told her. He hunts you because some part of you fights to stay innocent. He would never hunt a woman as dull and cruel as your mother. Become like your mother, and you will be safe. The wooden girl thinks you’re her mother. Abuse her. The rat loves you. Hurt him for fun. Drink away your days and sleep away your nights, and be a worthless thing no one could love, not even the Wolf.

  The rat and the wooden girl had kept Red Riding Hood running in the only direction they’d known, back towards her home. They passed a bar, and Red Riding Hood’s wickedness told her what to do. She stopped, pulling away from the rat and the wooden girl, and opened the door of the bar. As she tried to enter, the wooden girl and rat took hold of her again.

  “Please, I don’t want the Wolf to catch you again,” the wooden girl begged.

  “Please, I want to help you escape the Wolf and your mother both,” the rat begged.

  Cruelty took fire in Red Riding Hood’s heart, and she raised her hand to strike them both. She had seen her mother do the same thing countless times, and been afraid like the fear she saw in the rat and the wooden girl now. Realizing that did not break the spell. Anger and fear and cruelty raged within her, but she refused them.

  “All I have left is to go home to my mother,” Red Riding Hood said. “Her horribleness will repel the Wolf, and keep me safe. Being her daughter is better than being murdered, and I can try not to grow up like her.”

  The puppet girl and the rat did not like this choice, but they had nothing else to try. They ran again, straight for Red Riding Hood’s home. It took the Wolf a long time to eat the doctor’s innocent daughter, but not long enough. The Wolf caught up with them next to an old sawmill.

  “Stop running, Red Riding Hood. There’s no one to get in my way this time, and the chase is over,” the Wolf called to her.

  He was right, and she knew it. Every step took him closer, and her home was still far away.

  “I can still stand in your way,” said the puppet girl. Once again she stood between the Wolf and Red Riding Hood.

  This time he didn’t slap her aside. “Never again,” he growled, and threw her into the blades of the mill, where she was torn apart.

  “I can still stand in your way,” said the rat. He jumped and bit at the Wolf, knowing he could only buy Red Riding Hood moments.

  “Never again,” the Wolf growled, seizing the rat in his jaws, ripping at him and throwing the rat aside. He did not kill the rat, but he thought he had.

  Red Riding Hood thought he had as well. Her feet stumbled, and she fell. Her friends had died for her, and she had been too afraid to do anything but run.

  She could never escape her own wickedness, but she had refused it. Now she refused her fear. She stood up again, and told the surprised Wolf, “You don’t want to kill me. You want me to love you. If I die without returning your love, my death is worthless to you.”

  The Wolf stopped. She had surprised him, but he too was determined. He circled her, making sure she could not get away as he said, “Your fear is enough. Your fear means that when I take your life it is special, intimate. I wanted your willing love, but that would be enough.”

  “I don’t fear you anymore, Wolf. I won’t let anyone else decide who I love,” Red Riding Hood said.

  “That makes me love you more than ever. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth now. I need your love, and I will keep trying until I find a way to take it from you,” the Wolf answered.

  What needed to be done next could not be done by a girl who was sweet or innocent. Red Riding Hood knew she was not sweet. She would not let her cruelty rule her, but she was cruel. She took one of the lumberjack’s axes that lay near the sawmill, and stood next to a tree stump.

  “I will give you only one kind of love. Lay your neck upon the stump, and I will love you the way you love me,” she said.

  The Wolf squirmed. He was no fool, and the trick was obvious, but he had chased Little Red Riding Hood, and chased her, and chased her, and he had to have her.

  “Your eyes are so bright, Red Riding Hood,” he whined, taking a step towards the stump.

  “They’re watching the last seconds of your life,” she replied.

  “Your voice is so hoarse, Red Riding Hood,” he panted, taking another step.

  “Your death means everything to me. There’s nothing I want more, now,” she replied.

  “Your axe is so sharp, Red Riding Hood,” he whispered, taking the final step and laying his neck upon the stump.

  “Sharp or dull, as long as it kills you,” she replied, and she swung, over and over and over, until he died.

  The End.

  Blood smeared the axe all the way up to my hands. Glistening red meat gaped through the hole I’d hacked in the Wolf’s neck, and bits of jagged white bone poked out. It was gross and ugly, but I didn’t care. His eyes didn’t move. Nothing moved. He had given in to temptation, and he had died.

  “It’s over, Miss Mary. You’re free. You’ve told the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and now you can go home safely. You can even change back into regular clothes if you want,” Rat told me from my shoulder.

  Change clothes? That hadn’t even occurred to me. I didn’t have to go around being Little Red Riding Hood anymore. My heart fluttered in my chest. I looked down at the Wolf’s glassy eyes. I should feel bad about killing, but I didn’t. Not at all.

  “I’ve killed the wolf, but the story’s still alive. Some other girl will put on the hood. There are more wolves out there already, aren’t there?” I asked.

  “Enough to tell the story for another thousand years,” Rat answered.

  Those other Little Red Riding Hoods didn’t have an axe. I did. I had made this my story, and it could stay my story. My hands trembled. Slimed with the Wolf’s blood, they could still hold the handle of the axe like a vice.

  No. I was trying to do everything but face the truth. Maybe I was or wasn’t Red Riding Hood anymore, but on one side of these woods was home, and my mother, and kids in school who hated me, and nothing. Nothing I’d honestly missed even for a moment.

  On the other side of
these woods were metal cities and roses who told the future and a new body for Scarecrow and an old man who wanted another daughter that wasn’t going to be me. Why had it taken me so long to admit this?

  “Rat?” I asked, wondering if he still wanted boots. Maybe I could be the owner he deserved.

  “Yes, Miss Mary?” he asked anxiously.

  “I belong here.”

  Richard Roberts has fit into only one category in his entire life: ‘writer.’ But as a writer he’d throw himself out of his own books for being a cliche. He’s had the classic wandering employment history–degree in entomology, worked in health care, been an administrator and labored for years in the front lines of fast food. He’s had the appropriate really weird jobs, like breeding tarantulas and translating English to English for Japanese television. He wears all black, all the time, is manic-depressive, and has a creepy laugh.

  As for what he writes, Richard loves children and the gothic aesthetic. Most everything he writes will involve one or the other, and occasionally both. His fantasy is heavily influenced by folk tales, fairy tales, and mythology, and he likes to make the old new again. In particular, he loves to pull his readers into strange characters with strange lives, and his heroes are rarely heroic.

  n the last day before I got my super power, I was sulking because I didn’t have a super power.

  “That’s not going to work,” Claire warned me.

  “It will! I’ve been studying my Dad’s notes,” I snapped back.

  She tilted her head down and looked at me over her glasses. “You can’t give yourself super powers with a double-A battery, Penny.”

  “It’s not the power,” I explained. “It’s the frequency. Get it just right and it resonates with your whole nervous system and gives it a jolt. I’ve seen Dad do it. If you have powers, they go off!”

  I snapped that at her, too. I was frustrated! I clipped the wire another millimeter and looked at the wavelength reading on the meter. It went down a notch, like it was supposed to. I was dreading the next question. She was going to ask that question.