Goldie-locks: A Dark Variation

This was an assignment in my creative writing class last year, in which we were to rewrite a popular childrens story. This is my dark version of Goldie-locks.

The famine had long plagued the land. Its inhabitance so severely diminished, that the last survivors subsisted in shabby dwellings sparsely scattered. Entire towns became vacant, void of any hint of human life. Those who did not migrate to less desolate lands more often than not, perished in the feeble bereavement of starvation. When the famine came, winters became cold and long, only the hardy conifers sustained. When the relentless snow and ice would finally give, the summers brought only dry air, and often taunted the dying land with an overcast that never seemed to precipitate. The crops wouldn’t grow, and that which did simply did not yield enough. The lush emerald fields became a brittle russet, and the populace of leaves simply vanished.

        A small girl by the name of Goldalius Lockhart lived with her mother deep within the barren woods. A small girl, yet tall for her age, stood meager and pale, as bright yellow tresses streamed down her delicate face. She looked with sharp, yet distant azure eyes. An exceedingly bight girl, almost always in deep thought, she was a gentle and sweet natured girl, but did what she had to, in order to survive the harsh land. Raised by her mother, as her father died not long after her birth, her mother always called her Goldie Locks, which suited her well.

        The morning was still dark, when the dormant child woke, and the girl only half hearing through the distorted morning ear, as the weathered mother instructs her to forage for whatever edible ingredients she could find. After lucidity resumed, the girl dressed in the shabby attire fit for the icy breath of the late December winter, and set out into the frozen wood. Snow had not yet unveiled its full intensity this year, but a light layer of a snow ice mix provided a brittle crunch with each monotonous step. She trudged deep into the northern interior of the forestry, farther than she would normally venture, but all had been scavenged in proximity to the shack in which she lived.

        So far, the winter had proven to be warmer than previous ones, as when normally the cold would reach a bitterness that consumed entire bodies of water through to their entirety, now seem only a few inches in thickness. But that is not to say, that the weather is any more pleasant, even to those so accustom to it, that anything else is scarcely comprehensible. The young girl after about two or so hours of her excursion came across something odd. A bone lay on the ground, but… not one that she could recall ever before crossing, and she had seen many in her time. I was long like a leg bone but far too long for anything that lived around there and far too narrow. She pressed on, and decided to leave it, the perplexing curiosity however, she could not abandon.

        Farther into the frozen forestation, hunger began to gnaw at her, not that it didn’t always, but she knew when her lack of nourishment became dangerous. Soon the pangs became sharper; she knew she needed to obtain something of sustenance, with haste. Then suddenly she smelled smoke, someone was near. She followed the pungent scent of birch wood combusting. Finally she came upon a cottage, stone walls and a thatched roof, two small windows on the façade before her. With her primal instinct interrupting her normal sense of reasoning she made an impulsive ingress to the structure. Inside, it was warm, so warm. She could at no point in her life remember ever beings so free of the bitterness. She saw three bowls of some red colored soup upon the ebony table of ornate decorum. Quickly, almost viciously she made for the nearest bowl and began to engulf its entirety. She shrieked and dropped the bowl, spilling what little contents remained. The soup had been hot, and had scolded her mouth. After recovering she made for the next bowl, which was rather cold.  It didn’t bother her; In fact she could hardly taste it due to the burning or her tongue. Still hungry she downed the last bowl, which was perfectly warm. Still, despite her lack of taste, there was something odd about it. Suddenly she was thirsty, very thirsty, she found a nearby pitcher of some seemingly edible liquid, and consumed it in its entirety. Now that her thoughts were clear, she realized what she had done. She began to worry, but suddenly, she felt tired…very tired. Through an open door she saw three beds. She felt all three and determined the first was too soft and the second was too hard and finally concluded that the last was quite nice. She laid down, against her better judgment, but she thought, she would simply rest for a moment. That is until she fell into a deep sleep.

        She woke in a panic. Horrified at what had happened; she asked herself, “had I really fallen asleep in a strangers house?” She rose violently from the mattress and froze. There before her standing in such meager yet ominous mien, a small girl, no older than eight. Short and narrow in a gray little dress, her hair and eyes were black. But the nocturnal orbs staring at her on the pale face seemed to penetrate her being and look into her soul, her deepest self; no eyes had ever had a darker night.

        “Did you sleep well?” she asked in a sweet child voice, a stark contrast to her appearance

        “Who are you?” I asked

        “Lucinda” she said with an odd smile

        With that two adults entered, a man and woman, with a sort of similar awkward countenance upon them. The man was tall and hollowed, eyes set deep into his skull. He looked agitated, and very distant, almost as a statue of some horrible fiend.

The woman was less menacing, but still retained some sort of incongruity about her, much like her daughter. Her hair walnut brown pulled into a neat bun behind her head; her eyes, unlike the others, were pale blue. Goldie wasn’t sure if this made her look sweeter, or more intense, as the eyes in current focus seemed to be fierce, though cheerful. It was her who spoke next.

        “Oh child, you seemed so tired and weak. We thought it best to leave you be, until you regained your strength.” She said with the softest and sweetest voice Goldie had ever heard.

“Wont you stay a while, we can take care of you dear”

        Goldie was still stunned and unsure what to do, but she knew it would be unwise to stay.

“No I should go, but thanks”

        “Nonsense child, just stay here till morning” said the woman, “and by the way, you can call me Amelia.” She smiled again and they left the room, Lucinda glanced back just before the door closed, and gave a smile that chilled Goldie. After contemplating the situation a moment, she got up from the bed and made her way to the door. She attempted to turn the silver knob, it was locked. She panicked, and just as the adrenaline began to surge, faintly, she heard a child giggling outside. She ran to the window on the other side, and attempted to jar it loose. She frantically pushed and pulled wherever she could, and eventually fell down on an attempt to pull. Upon impact she realized, the floor is hollow. She pulled up the rug revealing a trap door. She hesitated, then concluded, it was the only way. She pulled open the door and descended the ladder, into the damp darkness she went.

        The walls of the cellar she used to navigate were wet with a film of slim. It was cold again in the depths and she hadn’t the slightest idea of what to expect. She felt a crack beneath her footfall. She released a squeak in terror.  She came to a door, and slowly and cautiously entered. She saw a candle, lit upon a table. She seized it and began her observed her surroundings with circumspection. Upon the wall she found an unlit torch. She resurrected its flame carefully with the candle, and the room was illuminated; a horrible surprise.

        There were chains on the walls, instruments on the table, and the room was half painted in scarlet horror. A skull on the floor was staring at her and without a sound discoursed clearly, “Run.” She ran to the door across the room, and attempted to open it, again it was locked. She had to go back. She turned and ran through the previously dark corridor from whence she came. Upon her escape she discovered that the crunch that had startled her earlier was a bone. She made her way through a right turn and stopped. There staring up at her, little Lucinda.

        “You weren’t trying to leave us were you?” her child voice ominously low and stern.

        Abruptly a hand grabbed her and a rag was placed over her nose and mouth. The hand was boney, like that of a skeleton, but strong; it was him. Soon she slipped swiftly out of consciousness.

        She woke tied to a chair at a table. She was back in the cottage, she saw Amelia. Her back to Goldie, she was cooking in the cauldron above the fire.

        “I hope you’re hungry” She said in a surprisingly normal voice.

        She turned round and placed a bowl of red soup in front of her. It was a deep rich red with a peculiar scent. There were bits of meat in it, with a few random herbs.

        “We’ll let it cool a bit” said the lady with a smile and returned to the cauldron.

        Goldie tried again desperately to escape, the ropes around her wrists were frayed, but still strong. She found an area on the chair that had been severely scratch, where wood splintered. She began rubbing the bounds on the chair. After about five minutes Amelia came beside her and held a spoon full to her mouth. She resisted but Amelia began to pull her hair.

        “Come on little girl, you need to eat”

        Eventually, Goldie submitted. On the third spoon she felt something hard. She spit it out and on the table, was a molar, a humans. Goldie screamed and Amelia clubbed her with the spoon

        “Mind your table manners girl” Still in that normal voice.

Goldie in an adrenaline fueled fury broke the weakened rope and wrapped it around Amelia’s throat, and throttled her until she fell to the floor. Lucinda out of nowhere came at Goldie with a knife. She slashed and cut Goldies arm. Still in an adrenaline trance pushed Lucinda into the fire where she screamed inhuman sounds. Goldie bolted out the door and about 20 paces from the house came across the man, with an ax. His eyes were wild, as he came after her. She ran through the woods but was no match for his long legs. She spotted a well ahead and just before reaching it he grabbed her and threw her aside with tremendous force. She rolled as the ax came down beside her head. He was swinging erratically. Another missed attempt almost hitting her she kicked his knee and he went over the edge into the well. She stood and looked down the old stone decent. He held on the edge barely with the skeleton fingers. Goldie took a stone and crushed them and watched as he fell into the dried well, and smiled when she heard his bones shatter.

She ran back through the woods under the moonlight. She didn't even notice the cold. She ran so fast and didn’t even notice fatigue, all she wanted, was mother. Finally, she saw her home, the rundown shack hidden in the trees. She stopped; there was no smoke from the chimney. She entered; the house was dark and cold. She called out for her mother, but there was no answer. She checked all three rooms. The she noticed the note on the table. She picked it up and read it in silence:

Sorry, mommy’s not coming home.

I’ve invited her for some soup, and I’m sure

she’ll make a great batch.

Sincerely Amelia

Author's Note

Please comment your opinions, and any problems you see. Or if you hate it say so, I don't mind.