The Storm and the Wolf

I had to rewrite a fairy tale from a different point of view for a class, so I figured I'd post it here.

     There are many ways of telling the events that took place the night that I nearly lost my life, but gained so much more. This story begins with me, sitting in my study, enjoying a nice afternoon cup of tea. I still remember the cinnamon smell that wafted up from my ceramic cup. The fire in the hearth was counter-acting the chill that the fall air brought, though only about half the leaves were changing colors. I was content to watch the forest through my window and simply relish the peace and quiet that life in the middle of nowhere offered.

      The forest is my own way of getting lost in the world, it was currently helping me to pass the time while I waited for my granddaughter to make her way over for a visit. I enjoyed our visits; for a girl so young, she could certainly carry on good conversation. Plus, company is more welcome ever since my late husband and one of my sons died on a wolf hunt many years ago.

      Suddenly, it began to rain. Normally that wouldn't have been so strange, but I knew from the afternoon's gardening work that the sky was virtually cloudless. Before I knew it, the rain had begun to fall in thick heavy drops of rain that sheeted all in sight. I scrambled to close all of the windows, hoping to save my windowsills from water damage. When I was at the final window, the one in my kitchen, I noticed the sky beginning to blacken.

      Right as I closed the shudder and locked the window, I thought I saw a blur at the edge of my vision. Thinking of my granddaughter walking alone in the middle of a dark rainstorm, I quickly put on a cloak and opened the door to see if it was indeed her. This was my first mistake. I should have known what storms such as those brought, but my thoughts were focused on her peril.

      I stumbled back as I saw what stood at the threshold of my door. A soaking, snarling, green-eyed mass stood in my doorway, peering into the depths of my soul for only a moment, before I began clawing myself into a backwards sprint. A scream came, but seemed unable to actually leave my mouth.

      Old as I may be, I made it down the hallway and into the living room at the end, before I even noticed it begin chasing me. I heard a smashing noise and turned in time to see the beast clear the hallway in a single leap, splintering the wall at the end as it caught itself. It tensed it's muscles and bounded at me before I could even blink.

       My heart leapt into my throat for a moment and I saw several rows of teeth coming at me. It seemed to unhinge its jaw, then it jumped on top of me and everything went dark.

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      I awoke with my entire body forced into fetal position from some sort of soft wet membrane. It was pitch black and it smelled of an old barn filled with rotten meat. I could hear voices from somewhere outside my confinement, I couldn't make out the words, but I could hear the tones: One was a man's, he spoke threateningly and with a definite sense of danger. The other shook my prison with each deep, rumbling growl. With horror I realized that somehow the wolf had swallowed whole. I tried to scream but I could barely breathe as it was in such tight confinements.

       Finally, they stopped speaking and everything began to spin as the wolf quickly moved and dodged. After minutes of the dizzying thrashing about, I heard a deafening roar that held more evil than any sound I had heard before and any I've heard since. After one final crash, the movement stopped and I was trying to stop myself from throwing up. (Though looking back I was covered in bile and old meat anyway.) A light suddenly appeared and began spreading downwards as a knife cut the beast open. A middle-aged man with a trim salt and pepper bead asked me if I was alright. I looked from left to right, and he said, “If you're looking for Little Red Riding Hood, then don't worry, she's safe. I came to help you.”

      “Thank you,” I said gratefully, though it seemed it would never be enough.

       “No problem, I owed that wolf... he killed my father, and nearly got me a few years back.”

      Looking at his face for the first time, I saw the face of my son, mangled by a long scar that seemed to render his right eye useless. I embraced him, and I knew that Red had once again found me the companionship I most desired.

Author's Note

First draft. Does anyone have an opinion on whether the huntsman that kills the wolf being the son? Is it too overused or does it work? Any opinions welcome.

Reviews

[Marie]

Let mesay first that I am so glad to see your work again. I wondered where you'd gotten to, since I check out new writing every day and didn't see you listed.

The man would obviously have to be Little Red Riding Hoods's father. You might work on that a little bit more.
It's an excellent story.

[NoblePariah]

Thank you much, its been a busy couple of months to be sure, but I'm back into a routine of writing regularly. I will definitely take a look at the relationship between the man and Little Red Riding Hood.

[LexiUsher]

This version of the story is amazing, I was hooked on the first sentence. It's probably to late now, but it is a fantastic draft! Great writing I loved it.

[NoblePariah]

Thank you! That's very gratifying to hear, I was pretty nervous at first about how this one turned out.

[LexiUsher]

It turned out so well you have done a fantastic job on it, put lots of though into it! :-)