Red! A Retelling Of An Old Story

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Red! A Retelling Of An Old Story

Hi everyone and welcome to the next post in my Halloween Heaven guest bloggers series, written by a professional story teller. Yeah, Simon Brooks, the author of the piece that you are about to read literally gets paid to visit libraries, colleges, and businesses to tell folk and fairy tales. Dream job, much?

When Simon emailed me and told me that he had a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood that he created, I jumped at the opportunity to have him on my page. What better place to tell the tale of Little Red Riding Hood than on lifewithlilred?! And what’s more, Simon was kind enough to record his tale on his SoundCloud page special for all of you. I cannot recommend listening to it enough, because it’s truly incredible. Simon’s story starts in the belly of the wolf and will be sure to get you in the spooky spirit of Halloween faster than you can say “Little Red”! Listen along to the recording as you read and enjoy:

Red! A Retelling Of An Old Story

By Simon Brooks, © 2017

It was dark, damp, and hot. The air was filled with rancidity. The old woman felt around the slime covered walls, which gave and moved to her touch. She felt a jolt and was bounced around and for a short while was not sure which way was up and which was down. Then all was still. Sitting up, she felt the walls press against her. She heard gentle rumblings, was jolted again and felt it become slightly and slowly more damp. There was an acidic smell to the new dampness, not unlike wine. At least it was warm. Silence and stillness and what seemed like eternal darkness ruled for a while.

Then, the old lady could hear murmurings and mumbles, but could not make anything out. The woman was glad to try to hear what the noise was; it was a distraction from the claustrophobia that she was beginning to feel. Then, another sudden jolt, a roar, and she was bounced and jostled around and felt something land and press against her. There was barely room to move before; now she was crushed almost beyond endurance against the stinking, slimy wall. The old woman did not move and then muttered to herself: “It’s dark in here, but at least I am still alive.”

“Who’s there?” said a tiny voice.

“Is that you, Little Red?”

“Grandma! Did the wolf eat you, too?”

“Well, I suppose he did, my little one.”

“I’m sorry Granny, it’s all my fault.” The small voice began to tremble, so Granny pulled her grandchild in close and hugged her.

“Don’t be silly. How can it be your fault?”

“Well, me and Mama, we made some bread for you ‘cause you was poorly and I was supposed to bring it to you with the wine. And I was s’posed to come straight here, but I never did,” said the girl. “It’s so hot, I can barely breathe.”

Granny spoke softly. “There, there.”

There was a sudden movement and they heard the sound of liquid rushing towards them. It poured over them both. Red cried out and Granny held the girl tighter. There was that acidic smell again. In another place it might have smelled good. Maybe. Granny said, “Well, what happened?” She tried to clear the warm liquid from Red’s face.

“Mama told me to come straight here, but I didn’t,” said Red.

“Well, what happened?” Granny asked again.

The girl sniffed and said, “I met a wolf on the path, Granny.”

Granny’s voice was patient and soft. “What happened, Red?”

“He asked if he could walk with me as it was such a nice day and I said ‘yes’. He was big, but really thin, Granny.”

“There, there. What happened?” There was more noise and some moving, then nothing.

“He asked where I was going and I told him. That I was coming to your house ‘cause you was poorly and I had bread me and Mama made and some wine for you. The wolf, the wolf, he said maybe I should pick some flowers, too. That if you were poorly, flowers would make you happy and feel better.”

“Yes, they would, my dear. Yes they would. So you strayed off the path?”

“I did, Granny. I strayed off the path, and then he was gone. And I came straight here.”

Granny was quiet for a while. “That wolf, the old sinner. I bet he thought he’d come here and make a meal of us both.” She sniffed the air and her clothes. “And wash us down with the wine, of course.” She sighed and thought. “I’m sure that there’s a way out of this, if I could think of it,” she said.

“It smells in here, Granny.”

“That is does, dear. That it does. It’s dark and hot, too, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Although Red could not see her grandmother, she knew that she was smiling. Red could hear it in her grandmother’s voice.

The humidity rose and rose. Granny tried to take deep breaths, but found it hard. The fetid air grew heavier until there was a great rumbling roar and release. For a while Granny and Red could breathe a little easier.

There was a slight movement and it felt like something was pushing in against one of the walls of the wolf’s stomach. A shining point came through the wall and with it, a thin sliver of light. The sudden brightness grew as the slit grew. After the complete darkness, the light made Granny cover both her own eyes and those of Little Red. More light poured in and a pair of hands followed.

Little Red was pulled from Grandma’s grasp and lifted out of the belly of the beast. Granny cried out. The hands reached down again and carefully lifted Granny. They both blinked in the bright light and saw before them a tall, strong, kind-faced huntsman. Although he smiled at them, there was something about his face that told Granny how both she and her granddaughter looked and smelled.

“Are you two ladies alright?” He asked. He looked about and got a cloth. After dampening it, he handed it to Granny who wiped her face and hands clean. A basket lay on the floor, and flowers were strewn about. An empty bottle lay on the floor next to an untouched loaf of bread, still wrapped in a cloth. The table had been pushed across the floor and a chair tipped over. The old lady stood, still shaking a little, and wetted the cloth once more and began to wipe off Red. The young girl clung to her grandmother, looking back and forth between the huntsman and the wolf.

The huntsman began to pick up the belongings, which had been knocked onto the floor, and straightened the house up a little. He said: “I’ve been tracking this old sinner for a while, now. Sorry I didn’t find him sooner.”

Granny looked at the huntsman. He was handsome and made Granny’s heart skip a beat. She smiled at the man. “Thank you. For saving us and for picking up the mess.” Granny looked over at her bed and saw the wolf with his head flopped back and belly opened up. “Please take it away.”

The huntsman pulled the sheets around the wolf and took the body outside. Granny washed Red’s hair at the water pump in the kitchen.

When the hunter came back in, he told them that he had skinned the wolf and butchered the meat. “No point in letting it all go to waste.” His clothes were rough but well made. The boots heavy and worn, but looked comfortable.

Granny remembered her husband, when he had been alive. He had a pair just like them and he used to say that they were as comfortable as slippers. She smiled at the memory, but then shuddered again, thinking of the wolf.

The man looked around the house and then at Granny. “Well, there is a reward for a wolf’s pelt. It doesn’t seem right to me that I keep it all. After all, I found the sinner in your house.” He moved from one foot to another, slightly embarrassed. I’ll bring you the money or we could split it,” said the man.

“No need to do that.” Granny stroked Red’s hair with lavender oil, trying to get rid of the smell. “If you had not been tracking him, I don’t know when we would have got out. You keep the money.”

“If you say so. Thank you. Can I help out here? Should I send word to anyone?”

“No. We will be fine now. If you could burn the bed covers and sheets, I would appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

So, the house was put right again. The great pot was boiled and the water poured into a small tin tub into which Little Red was thoroughly scrubbed. The pot was boiled again and Granny washed herself. She picked some lavender and rubbed the leaves over both of them. Granny dressed her granddaughter in some of her own clothes, and the two laughed at such a small girl dressed in such roomy clothing.

While the washed clothes dried in the sun, the girl’s hooded red cloak flapped in the warm breeze. Together they made some soup, which went very nicely with the bread that Red had brought.

Before dusk, they went out together and picked some new flowers and put them in a vase. The flowers Red had arrived with were broken and trampled. Red’s mother and father visited a couple of days later to check on them both. The hunter had told them that the wolf had been found and killed and that Granny and Red were fine.

Although it needs not to be mentioned, I will say that Little Red never strayed from the path again; unless it was with her grandmother to pick flowers.

^^^ Wow! Infinite thanks to Simon for sharing his newly penned fairy tale with my readers. If you enjoyed this piece, then I urge you to check out Simon’s page for more stories and audio recordings of his work! What is your favorite fairy or folk tale? Which fairy/folk tale frightened you as a child? I want to hear from all of you, so leave me a comment and let’s chat! Much love. -Sarah

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