Babushak

Masha had a basket of freshly baked rolls to bring to her ill grandmother. Her mother sent her out with nothing more than a red cloak and a basket. She was told to follow the path, even though it was a bit longer, but Masha didn't listen. She decided to cut through the forest. There she encountered a wolf. He ate her, and the bread. He then took her cloak and basket, and traveled to the grandmother’s home, disguised as Masha. Despite the grandmother being ill and decrepit, she still had her wits about her. Taking her husband’s rifle, she split the wolf’s head in half. His mass lay piled in a mound of flesh at the crest of the hill in front of the house. The jolt from the rifle stopped her weak heart instantly.

When her husband pulled up to the front porch, his heart sank. He had forgotten his canteen at a friend’s house. “No worries” he thought to himself. As he stepped out of his truck, he saw his wife lay heaped on the front porch like a sack of potatoes. The foul stench of a decomposing body cut through the air as a gust picked up. He cautiously approached the figure that lay still on the porch. “She’s dead” he exclaimed. He noticed the gun lying next to her and concluded that the shock from its violent kick combined with the noise was just too much for her heart. “Damn you!” his saddened voice screeched. Shaking, he slouched down next to her and sobbed. Tears pattered onto her gown and seeped through to her skin; his fragile frame like a bridge ready to collapse. He sat there for days, mumbling incoherently through his cries; choking on his tears. As his body weakened it became increasingly difficult for him to breath. Exasperated, he died there next to her.

Reviews

[Marie]

Well this is certainly a sad end to the old fairy tale.