A walk in the woods always helps me relax and release some tension. The fact that I'm dragging Little Red Riding Hood's body behind me should be irrelevant.

Of course, if she wasn't such a dumb blonde she would've known right off I wasn't her grandmother. After all, what grandma has an Adam's apple, canines, and a body covered in coarse gray hair? Maybe I had been wearing old lady clothes, but still. Common sense!

The deep fog pulls at my fur like a lover who wants an embrace, leaving sparkling drops of condensation behind as I saunter through the undergrowth of the forest. The weight of the girl's half-eaten corpse doesn't slow me down, even with tendrils of curious plants wrapping around her limbs. A quick jerk or two is all it takes to free her from those pesky flora.

The carnivorous plants are not the only things here that would want to take away my prize or have a go at me. Hunters and woodcutters wander the expanse of the forest on the lookout for lycanthropes like myself, or the towering tree people living among the hardwood. I'm careful though, and this time is no different.

I spot the inky opening to my cave just ahead. It is half shrouded by a thick throng of Touch-Me-Not and the ideal home for the likes of me. Sweeping my arm to push back the vines as the blooms snap at me angrily, I pull Red inside with me.

It was dark, cold even. The soft ebbing light of glow worms hanging on the ceiling reflects in my eyes. At my feet, bones are scattered. The mangled carcasses of the Three Little Pigs lay dispersed to my left and on the right the remains of the seven goat kids. A sadistic grin splits my mouth and shows my fangs. Now Red Riding Hood will join my collection.

I'm sure somewhere some poor soul will tell this story differently. In their fantasy, the pigs and goats would survive. Red would live, and perhaps I would die. But there's just something to know about such fairytales.

They lie.

Reality is much more cruel than the authors dare show. It's harsh, unforgiving, painful. Nothing like what the tales depict.

I am the Big Bad Wolf, and in the real world, I always win.

~

Written December 30th, 2021 for Aim to Engage 2022.

Prompt: Cinderella didn't drop her slippers. Snow White didn't bite the apple. The mermaid didn't switch her tail for legs. Change the climax of the fairytale. Make it funny. Make it realistic. Make it unexpected.

Word count: 389