Little red riding hood.

She walks through a dark, snowy forest all alone; skipping and humming while holding tightly onto her basket. She is looking for someone...anyone. But who she finds is someone else entirely.

It’s a peaceful, wintery snow fall as we see a young girl vibrantly dressed all in red. With a long robed outfit, she simulated characteristics of an enchanted child from some fairy-tale story written long ago. Skipping throughout the shadowy, winter forest; innocent by no choice of age and blinded by constant hopefulness in a world that has possibly gone terribly mad. But she simply couldn’t notice as she moved with youthful rhythm induced with plentiful amusement and to better fit a cliché, she possessed a wooden basket that she unnecessarily held with both hands while whistling a song born decades ago.

The moon has hit its highest point in the sky, or at least from the forests perspective. But as it did so, it lent a cold sheet of blue light that gently clothed the trees and snow. Leaving weary shadows in between the trees she skipped by that left more and more for the unknown to play its usual tricks against us. Either man or monster could lie watchfully and wordlessly within each void of darkness, but she cared for neither as she’d mindlessly close her eyes to enjoy a particular jingle of her own whistle.

 Every small footstep left about an inch of evidence that went back in a crisscrossed line. Winds whipped and hit the branches back and forth, knocking down any remaining leaves that simply hung on for too long.  Then all of a sudden, our brave and peaceful traveler came to a halt when a sharp howl entered the cold atmosphere. It was terrifying, aggressive and violent. But that wasn’t all… It was also undoubtedly very, very close. The knocking of trees and breaking of sticks on the ground unquestionably followed next but in a painfully slow and sluggish manner. Then came the heavy breathing…sounding much like a wounded warrior barely able to stand on his own two feet, but one that was too drunk on pride to fall down.

Our little hooded girl simply held onto her basket while curiously following the noises that slowly moved around…closer and closer. Until finally it stopped about 15 feet away, causing something strange to overtake her, but the emotion was quite simply not fear. She knew something was gazing at her from within that darkness and by god, she stared cold and dead right back at it. No fear in her eyes, just calming sadness that seemed to thicken along with the slow moving time. In this moment, there seemed to be some kind of connection between her and this heavy breathing being that was too shrouded in darkness for her eyes to see.

Was it the child’s utter innocence that stopped the seeming ‘creature’ from devouring her whole? Or was it the sound realization from that same ‘creatures’ mortality that left the girl petrified in compassion? Or perhaps by some act of pure and archaic connection, could it be some mirrored divine emotion that kept them both from the desire to kill or flee. Whatever the reasoning was…they stared into each other souls and seemed to feel something of minor substance.

Then finally, the little girl opened her mouth to whisper softly, “Daddy.”

This ‘creature’ let out a sudden beastly growl when a noticeable figure lurked in the distance behind the girl. Her worried eyes jolted to the side and she awaited the foreigner’s arrival.

Reaching a closer distance, but in a slowed pace, the stranger’s voice muttered ever so softly, “Hello?”

The wind whipped harder now, causing the snow to drop down more like rainfall. The long robed tail of her red outfit swung in the briskly breathing gusts of wind and she kept still to better fixate on the sounds of the strangers crunching footsteps that got louder the closer he got.

“Helloooo?” Yelled the soft-voiced man, with a seemingly flirtatious tone to his voice.

Our adventurer turned around to face whoever it was that called out to her. She could heard the crackling of sticks behind her as she felt the ‘creatures’ presence dwindle, but not entirely abandon.

The man approached the young girl that stood short and warmly hooded in red; still holding tightly onto her wooden basket.

“What in the world are you doing out here all by yourself, little girl?” Asked the man.

But she remained silent and looked up at him as he stood taller than most she’s seen. Skinny and much like herself, he was in hooded attire…wearing a thick, brown winter jacket with a large sack strapped tightly to his back. To better match his high pitched voice, he smiled large but bared no teeth at all. He stood over her while his head bounced from side to side in a scrutinizing manner. He took a quick knee to drop down to her level; her head followed him the entire way.

“Where are your parents?-Did you get lost?-Run away from home? Hah.” She found him awkwardly playful as he laughed at questions that wouldn’t be found traditionally funny.

The finally, she broke her long-lived silence, “I can’t find my dad. We lost each other in the whiteout.”

Leaving no room for process, “Well, that’s certainly no good. You must be terrified out here all by yourself.” He looked behind and around her to find the young one to be all by her truly lonesome. His eyes met with hers again, “You know these forests are crawling with wolves this time of night, right?” His voice and context seemed to often change its balance; speaking in extreme highs, only to drop to extreme lows.

She dropped her head down in sadness when hearing the word ‘wolves’ then turned her head ever so slightly toward the unknown ‘creature’ that once sat in the shadows behind her. She heard and saw no movement at all. Turning back around, she good-heartedly said to the stranger, “Will you help me find my dad?”

At first he didn’t speak but nodded instead while upholding that same devil may care smile that still bared no teeth. She thought it particularly awkward in that the man simply did not bother to blink either…not once.

He replied, “Look, your daddy probably went to get help to find you. It’s either that…or the wolves got to him, sweetheart.” His body was animated as he threw in small chuckles here and there, again in an unorthodox manner.

Despite his worrying words, her eyes squinted small and appeared to leave little room for concern.

He placed out his hand with an inviting, open palm, “In any case, you’ll easily catch your death out here. Come with me. Let’s get you warm.” Not looking, he pointed a finger behind him, “I have a cottage just a little further that way. I have warm food and hot coffee.”

She took a moment of speculation but ultimately outstretched her hand to match and grip onto his. Commencing forward and away from the darkness, they advanced further into the forest from whence he came.

While they walked onwards, the man began to hum a child-friendly song while freely bouncing his head along with it. She turned to look behind as the shadowy depths of the ‘creatures’ refuge got further and further away from her. But that crackling sound of fallen branches followed them and thus stopped the tall, lanky stranger to a curiously dead halt.

The swift and natural sound of winter winds caressed the trees, smacking them both on their poorly covered faces. All at once it stopped as an unsettling stillness overwhelmed everything around them.

He spoke out, “See, I told you.” His voice still playful.

He leered down at her rosy-cheeked face that was so far away from his. She stared into his bright, strange eyes and swore they suddenly dimmed a shade darker.

Then, the tone of his voice changed so evidently that anyone would swear he abruptly became haunted, “This forest is not safe, little girl.”

The stranger’s knuckles cascaded across the young girl’s cheekbones; soft and with care. His tongue crept out from his mouth to lick his very own chapped and split lips; slow and eerie.

With the snapping of another stick behind her, she turned but in that instant became cloaked in the dark confines of some rough foreign material. She flailed around, smacking her hands against soft canvas walls that only seemed to be getting tighter and tighter the more she fought. She tried to scream but could only let out one muffled attempt before being struck over the head and falling into the wet snow. She immediately felt her body being vigorously dragged through the snow while her consciousness began to close in like a steel, sliding door. She held onto what she could and with one last endeavor, screamed as loud as she thought she could…and the violent pulling of her body stopped.

Her breathing slowed down to short, struggling bursts of air. Through the knitted canvas she saw the tall, skinny silhouette of what could only be the stranger that put her there. She could see his head inquisitively tilting while an attempted humanly growl followed. The figure behind the canvas then moved quick and violently as a strong pain lasted less than a millisecond before the little girl’s reality finally faded to an undesirable slumber.

The man picked up the thick rope that was attached to the medium sized canvas and again began to drag it. This time effortlessly through the wet snow. All the while, as if it were just any other night, he continued to hum that same tune from before.

 

The young girl’s lights began to flicker in and out but everything was very much disoriented at this point. She heard the faint sound of music playing; something that would be found in a nursery for mentally sick children. Caught somewhere in between fantasy and actuality, she shook her head back and forth and began to feel a thick liquid drip through her hair and down her forehead. Her eyes finally opened but she still couldn’t see, for her head was covered by something that smelt of pure dirt. The liquid naturally dripped all the way down her face, passed her nose and right into her mouth. A very distinct taste of rusty blood mixed with a hint of salty sweat. She was back, spitting out what could only be her very own fluids and shaking her head with all her consciousness finally intact but feeling her body tightly constricted flat up against a cold surface. She took notice to the soft whispers that came next. Despite it and without much sign of fear, she stopped and kept as still as a heavy, untouched stone.

The whisperer was frantic and with conviction, “I brought her here for you d****t. I told you this was the last time I was going to do it so just get it over with already.”

She felt the voice echo and lightly bounce around her. Beside her she could hear the sizzle of some heating device that blew steamy air to the side of her sack-covered head. Over in another corner, a tortuously slow drip continued and the scent of stale coffee entered her nostrils. She lifted her head up to the sky and despite her utter lack of sight, saw bright florescent lights shine down. She was no longer in the forest; he must have taken her home.

She drew her head back to its original flat state against the wall and just like that, she ‘remained’ asleep.

The voice came back but this time in between the line of whisper and shout. “No.No.No.No.No.No, you can’t make me do this for you again!”

The conversation was beginning to get out of hand and the whisperer began to get frustrated as “BANG, BANG, BANG!” Came the sound of hands punching a wooden floor. Her feet could feel the vibration below and again, “BANG, BANG, BANG!” Human shrieks teamed with crying and an underlying sadistic chuckle and then……….

……….Then silence swept in for just a moment before the voice soaked in sadness said, “Go back to hell, you devil!”

Those unstable and unearthly words blared terror into her ears as she let out a gasp, then poorly tried to mask it.

In an instant, the hallowed sound of a tin can fell and began to roll across the wooden floor, amplifying as it must have been getting closer to her. A suddenly obnoxious stomp made contact with the can, crushing it in its rotation. Followed by angst steps that got more intense as they sprung forward and it was clear the footsteps were heading toward her uncomfortably constricted body. She tensed up, keeping her stomach muscles tight to prepare for something sharp to puncture her mortal skin.

But the footsteps stopped and she felt warm, stinky breath breathing on her. Two fingers pinched the top of the sack before violently ripping it off…and then the darkness was no more.

At first she was blinded by white light. It was although she’d been locked in a dungeon for days. She blinked twice to call back her once perfect vision and then and there…she was able to see that what stood in front of her, this time smiling with all his rotted teeth unveiled, was the same stranger that found her in the forest earlier.

“Goooooooooodmorning!” He said, despite the moonlight that clearly shined through the window next.

He reeked of cigarettes and long years of decay. She tried to turn to avoid the sour smell of milk on his breath, but with a firmly placed palm on her scalp she simply didn’t have the strength avoid its unpleasantness.

His nose touched the tip of hers, ‘We’ve been waiting for you, little girl!”

Her eyes scanned the room when he spoke of himself as being in a pair. But there was no one else in the room except them and the room wasn’t big enough for someone to hide.

The door was hatched shut and there was a single candle burning on a small bedside table but there was no bed to go along with it. Torn clothes were scattered across the floor everywhere and a record player sat and spun old music from another era.

Her eyes met back up with his and it was almost hard to see the stranger as that same person she had met in the forest. An aura floated around him this time, flooding him head to toe in something much darker. She swore his pupils were rounded slightly larger and his eyelids looked as though they never experienced a single blink.

Releasing his grip, her fragile neck would finally be able to turn, stretch and crack. He backed away slowly, spinning around and placing his sharp, lengthened nail up to his nose and sniffing in hard. His gears took a sudden switch and he hurried himself back around to face the speechless girl. Aside from her somewhat quickened breath of hardly being able to breathe in result of her recently covered head, she carried no real expression on her face. He on the other end was quite energetic and soaring through the clouds by now as his finger closed one nostril while letting the other take a strong inhale. Blood dripped and spat out after, but he laughed, wiped it clean and rubbed it over his gums. He closed his eyes and mouth and swirled his tongue around, bobbing his head at the same time while singing, “I’ve got you, under my skin…”

Another switch in his gears I suppose, as his eyes spread open wider this time, casting a much eviler look. One boot slowly and elegantly went in front of the other.

“Who were you talking to?” The little girl broke her silence. Her head lightly bowed while her right eyebrow slightly rose.

The curious stranger’s boots stopped proceeding onward. Tilting his head, he replied with a seemingly obvious manner and a thumb pointing behind, “What do you mean girl? - It’s obvious my friend Frank has been with us the entire time.” But when his head followed the direction of his thumb, he immediately grew upset as he found that no one was there. “Well that’s strange. Frank…must have…gone home for the night.”

He kept his glance still and it appeared the stranger took much sadness in not finding his friend “Frank” behind them.

Then, breaking his moment of reflection, “Where does frank live?” She said.

He held up his two fingers toward her, “Shh...shh!”

She kept quiet as he insisted.

“No more about Frank. He’s surely gone to sleep by now. Let’s let him rest.” He swung right back into his quick paced persona; looking and searching the floor, kicking around the piles of ripped clothes. “Now around here, I must have something, orrrrrr…..some…ONE!” He bent down to the floor and picked up a brown teddy bear with a syringe full of blood sticking out from its eye.

He shot back up to appear just a foot away from the little girl’s face. She unexpectedly gasped from its surprise as she willingly stared into the face of a terrorized and murdered bear

His teeth-filled smile decomposed into something a bit more somber as he went on to explain, “Now I understand how imperative it must be for you to have some kind of, you know, support system here…like a friend!” The stranger was exceptionally well-spoken, “And as unfortunate as it may be, Frank has gone home for the night and even more unfortunate then that…you won’t be here when he returns. But never you mind child, for you now have….uh” His sentence broke in half like an actor’s would from forgetting his next line. His eyes cast to the stars that sailed unseen beyond the wooden ceiling that blocked them, “uhhhhhh, Robert!” With pride, he looked down at the dead bear that he now referred to as, ‘Robert.’ “Perfect. Robert!” He turned around and with gentle care, placed ‘Robert’ on a small, wooden rocking chair that looked perfectly fit for a child. “We’re just going to put Robert right here for now, okay?” He smiled, bumped the top of the rocking chair to give it some motion, and left it alone.

The stranger sniffed the tip of his fingernail once again, breathing more life into him; dancing around to music that wouldn’t normally be for dancing. But he made it work for himself as he rubbed his hands together for some friction and licked his brown-spotted teeth.

“What are you going to do with me?” Asked the little girl.

He replied, “It’s quite funny that you ask. Did you know that every single one of you has asked that exact same question? Well of course you don’t, how could you?” His eyes grew ample and his fingers creepily fluttered as he continued, “That would mean you could talk to ghosts. Can you talk to ghosts, little girl?”

She swallowed any possible speech and instead chose to remain still and without voice.

“I thought not,” humorlessly said the stranger. “And to be sincere, the question is not ‘what will I do WITH you.’ It’s more like, ‘what will I do TO you’.”

He drew in closer to sniff her hair. Her eyes shut as he executed quick sniffs up and down the top half of her body. He quaked in the personal satisfaction of the saccharine scent she had to offer. It was as if every single sniff got him off a little more.

Grabbing her left breast, his eyes intimately closed and he let out a soft breath to the world, “Ahhh, meager bosom.” He released her chest and backed away again.

With eyes open, her breath got heavier and heavier. He loved every second of her panting as he went on to dance to it. The only problem with her reaction was that it was not out of fear but pure and hateful rage.

His left hand cupped around his ear as he zoned in to treasure the sound of her lungs that pumped harder by the second. He couldn’t wait for his favorite part; the part where she began to weep and beg for escape.

With his back facing her, a drawer opened just below the stove that he stood in front of. His hand reached and fiddled around inside, clanking around its metal contents and reminding her, “Bear with me. It’s a long process; a ritual, if you will.”

He pulled out an old and rusted copper helmet that bared a striking resemblance to a pig’s severed head. It had pointed ears on top, round holes where its eyes would be and a long snout with that smug, two-nostril nose. The rounded and voided eyes gave the copper mask an icy, dead feel to it; both had small, sharp wedges going inward on both the top and bottom, which was no doubt used to effectively keep open pried eyes. The mouth had a very similar design. Smudges of blood smeared around it that had turned brown from age.

He stared into the face of his cryptic mask as he nostalgically smiled at all the tortured faces that once sat behind it. Looking through its voided out eyes, he grinned at the thought of putting it to use yet again. But in that very same moment all his marvel suddenly split in two by an outburst of insanity from the girl behind him.

Like a frenzied pinball bouncing from hysteria to neuroticism, she couldn't stop herself from uncontrollable laughter. The stranger’s eyes went wide and confused as he snarled at the unpredictable mockery that she disrespectfully gifted him. He darted at an almost unnatural speed and shouted in her face, "what on earth are you laughing at, you god damn w***e!" But the harshly spoken words didn't seem to so much as even process for the little girl as she pounded her head against the wooden wall she was stuck to. Back and forth, the demonic-like laughter left the stranger angry and at a disastrous loss. This was not going how it was supposed to go and his world was spiraling out of orbit because of it.

With one last slam of her head against the wall, she came forward and spit directly into his right eye, "I'm going to feed you to my dad!" She firmly said.

His eye shut as he quickly nursed and wiped the little girl’s thick mucus from his face. She returned back to her laughter as her head slammed against the wall again. He turned away and bowed his head as the inside of his chest sped up and he felt as though he was going to cry.

"You little...s**t." Reaching into his pocket, he slid out a small surgical blade and mouthed the words, "I'm going to cut out your lungs and eat them." Sweat dripped down his forehead and he took another sniff of his drug-filled nail that sped up his next sentence, "The child will never laugh again!"

In that instant the laughter behind him stopped as the loosening sounds of rope followed. He turned holding up the surgical blade level with...well, where her lungs used to be. The little girl had somehow disappeared from her tightly bound position on the cold, wooden wall. He looked to the floor to see her black, size 4 shoes still planted on the ground where her feet once were.

 Gasping out, "It's impossible!" He said aloud before spinning around in a circle that progressively got more vicious the more he spun it to see no one at all.

In a small cabin with only 4 walls and a roof and no nook or cranny to hide in, she was nowhere to be seen.

His voiced shook, "Little girl?!” He held tightly onto the surgical blade with his trembling eyes.

Behind him, a swift shadow dashed by but was gone by the time he turned toward its origin. Then again behind him, faster this time. The rocking chair creaked behind the same way it did when he tipped it with his finger. He couldn’t fathom or dream up the horror that had been casted upon him; just like all his victims before this moment, his knees shook just as theirs once did the sheer imagination of what was to come.

Finally, the stranger turned toward the miniature rocking chair. ‘Robert’ the bear, was lightly swaying back and forth. All seemed normal and without sound for a few moments. No disturbance of noise or that unnatural movement all around him. But the stranger squinted his eyes to notice something that drew any remaining speech away from his tongue. His eye… ‘Roberts’ eye was vacant of the syringe that was once stuck inside of it. He looked to the floor surrounding the chair but only found its contents to contain ripped pants and candy wrappers.

The short-lived silence ended when something from the ceiling quietly fell to the floor behind him; the sound of small feet elegantly and gracefully meeting with the wooden floor would just barely catch his attention. He prepared himself with a tightened fist around the small toy-like blade. Quick breaths and his seemingly oblivious body language, he would then choose to pretend to be completely unaware of her sudden existence behind him. Only then did he think he could catch her off-guard. 

With one step forward he mouthed, “Frank!” Then spun around with his arm out and in a stabbing motion. A motion that he prayed would penetrate the mysterious girl’s jugular. But unfortunately for the stranger, he carelessly forgot to take into account the young girl’s height in comparison to his and thus completely missed his desired kill.

Before any course of redemption could come, he felt his head knock back as if being unexpectedly punched in the face. White noise infiltrated his sense of sound while his eyes quickly filled up with water. The little girl giggled just as any playful child her age would, as she tipped up on her tippy-toes to push in the syringe that now stuck out from his forehead. The thick blood-like liquid entered his brain and caused a disturbing, twitching vein to pop in and out from his right eyeball.

His loud boots stomped on the ground as if now in slow motion. His arms dropped lifelessly to his side and the surgical blade fell from his once tightly wrapped hand. Moan after moan after moan, as he poorly attempted to overcome whatever ill-effecting poison that now coursed through his body, starting in his brain.

She picked up the surgical blade and began to circle around him like a shark. His attempts to follow her only made her laugh some more. She poked his knees with the blade at first. Then his butt, while asking, “Can ya feel that mister?”

His head dropped while his neck sagged into multiple rolls of skin. Sweat beaded down his tense, veiny face. “Whaaaaaa-ahh-uuuu?” He tried to ask ‘who she was’ but by now his voice would no doubt be unusable.

The little girl threw the blade across the room and she met back to face him forward. She kicked his legs several times yelling, “You’re too tall, mister!”

He flailed around repeatedly with obvious but useless attempts to grab her. It was clear he didn’t have the power to even lift a finger at this point.

“Could ya fall down already!?” She yelled some more, keeping up with her kicking tantrum.

Then finally, the man dropped comatose to the ground.

She placed her ear on his chest, still hearing his heartbeat. And no matter how slow it was, it still ticked and she jumped up and looked around the cabin to find something she needed. Kicking around the ripped up underwear, dresses and pants that no doubt came from other children that sadly never made it this far. But she was on a mission and simply didn’t have the time to mourn what had already been burnt into history by the man dreaming on the floor.

Shuffling around half the junk that laid on the wooden floor, the little girl finally found something she could use; two canvas sacks much like the one he previously dressed her in, would come in handy to cover both halves of his body. She threw them around him, but not without having the trouble of fitting his entire body inside. She may have single handedly put him to sleep on the ground but she was still about 150 lbs. lighter than him.

With each failed attempt to lift his lengthy body inside of the sack, she furiously pounded on his barely breathing chest while yelling, “UGH! WHO TOLD YOU TO GET SO FAT?”

 After completely covering the stranger in the two canvas sacks, she grabbed the rope that once bound her to the wall and tied it tightly around his feet. She took hold of the ropes slack and turned forward, throwing the slack over her shoulder. Then with all her might she began to drag him across the wooden floor, through the wooden door and back out into the dead, wooded forest.

The wind and snowfall was no more; not so much as a gust or snowflake in the air as she pulled and struggled the entire way through the forest. Stopping every few paces forward to again become frustrated and…again, releasing that frustration by slamming her feet into the ribs of his unconscious body. She showed pure signs of a child’s nature by sticking her tongue out or making a goofy face at him.

She pulled the stranger a bit more into the forest then thought it a good enough distance to stop. Without gauge she leaped hard onto the man’s chest to wake him up. His head behind the sack sprung forward and awake but she slammed it right back down into the snow. Pulling the sack off the top half of his body, she could see the syringe that still stuck out from his forehead so she quickly plucked it out and threw it behind her.

His eyes laid abnormally open as he stared into the grinning face of the far-too-young antagonist in front of him. He couldn’t move anything as he muttered, “Help me. I can’t blink. Why can’t I blink?”

“I don’t know,” She genuinely responded, shrugging her shoulders and picking up the syringe. “Think it has anything to do with this stuff?” She asked.

The sheer sight of the syringe and his eyelid’s wanted to expand even more but they just wouldn’t budge and instead resulted in uncontrollable tears. He knew why he couldn’t blink and he felt shrouds of fear for the first time ever because of it.

“Guess so!” She threw the syringe again.

“You’re not just some regular girl, are you?” He asked.

The little girl didn’t speak. She just sat on top of him, humming and nodding her head from side to side.

“Did Frank send you?” He asked out again. This time bringing up his ‘imaginary friend’ from the cabin. “He did, didn’t he? He wants to take me. I know he does.”

She still kept on humming; finding no curiosity at all in the hysterical words he spoke.

“Do it then, girl! Do it! Take me back to hell with you, you…you b***h!” The stranger snapped.

The little girl slammed her fist down, hitting him square in the nose. He began to bleed instantly. One finger from the little girl wiped a small drop of blood away from his nose. Putting it up to her own, she sniffed in hard and as her breath drew back out, the stranger heard an underlying beastly exhale from the young girl. She then stuck the finger in her mouth, sucking on it with both eyes closed.

The man began to weep but still couldn’t process his face to fit the proper emotion; looking much like a distressed 70 year old woman with a long history of severe plastic surgery. Yellow, phlegmy fluid dripped from his nose and mouth so hard that he began to stiffly choke on his own sick. Reaching into the remaining canvas sack, she pulled out the golden pig mask and stared through its black, voided out eyes which ironically positioned in perfect alignment with his two very own. Unsnapping the buckle behind it, she placed it over his face as it awkwardly fit a touch too large; still, he gargled every step of the way.

She tilted her head and slid her hand slowly over the mask, stopping when the edge of her palm reached the bottom. Her pointer and middle finger slipped through the tiny holes of the nose and she shook his head back and forth to her disposal while coming in close and saying, “Now my daddy is very old and hungry, so please don’t put up a fight, mister.”

In perfect correlation to her heads forward position toward the shadowy braches came mean snarls and the sound of anxious scraping against the cold, dead bark. Yellow eyes floated in the distance just 4 feet ahead of them causing hers to similarly brighten as she knew she had done well by the beast…The beast she called her Father.

The little girl stood up from the stranger’s chest to see her small basket lying on the floor just a little ways away; its contents spilled out into the snow. As she walked over toward it, a horrifyingly long and hairy arm reached out, grabbing the paralyzed, pig-masked man by his head and bringing him into the wooded outskirts of the snowy trail. The little girl bent her knees and reached down to grab the basket and its belongings; three syringes filled with a paralyzing liquid that she stuffed back into the basket. She threw her thick, red hood back over her head and began to whistle a song born decades ago. Meanwhile the evident sounds of flesh tearing from bone backgrounded her happy tune.

 

The End.