The maggot ridden corpse revulsed the Red Riding Hood. What had once been a man laid

impaled on a wooden stake, its torn intestines dripping on the paved road. Crows were pecking

at its flayed skin. The empty eye sockets could not see the madness which possessed the hateful

mob. The savages hurled stones at the decayed shell scraping its anemic bones. Its the devil

incarnate the High Priest had declared, bostered by an unfathomable zealotry. Let it rot under

the blazing Summer heat and bask under God’s mercy, he had urged them. Yet the Red Riding

Hood knew from the denailed convict’s desperate pleas that he was all but guilty. A sign hanged

around his bruised neck displayed the terrible word: WEREWOLF.

”Are you sure you want to head out to the woods alone?” inquired the Hunter with a predatory

gaze. The Civil War veteran was dressing the scorched bite marks on his chest. ”Look what

the bastard did to me”. The man and his rifle would have been a welcome company but Red

Riding Hood declined his offer. The monster had been slain she told to him. She then passed

through the tree arch, her velvet cloak lighting the forest’s timeless darkness. Flashing an

innocent smile, she danced in the gloomy meadow as weary owls and horned deer intrigued by

her peculiar behavior watched from the shadows. She could not have known that a large pair

of silver eyes was stalking her every movement from its vantage point. Licking its charcoal fur,

the monster effortlessly crushed his last prey’s skull, a juvenile fox before streching its muscular

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legs.

It was after her. Sprinting across the neverending obscurity, she could smell its foul breath. Its

crazed bloodcraving gaze was engraved in her memory. ”Red Riding Hood...” its malefic voice

was calling out. Birds and squirrels scurried to their hideouts as she rushed past the towering

sequoias immune to her bottomless fear engulfing their surroundings. Her grandmother’s house

was close. But the treacherous trees had shown her their pacific lies and molded anew the ancient

path. The dead end caught her off guard as the fiend pinned her down with its bulky claws. Its

saliva was dropping from its unholy jaws intent on snapping her neck. ”What a succulent young

flesh” taunted the triumphant creature while pervesely licking her bruised cheek. She finally

recognized the High Priest’s voice through the monster’s maniacal deformed speech.

The High Priest’s mutated body laid grotesquely in a pond of soiled black blood. Its eye balls

have been savagely ripped from their orifices. The broken row of toothless teeth were a testament

to the unthinkable horrow which has befallen the vile creature. Lesser wolves were feasting on

the ripe muscles of their apex brethen. The lifeless demonic heart of the fiend laid exposed in

the hands of its killer. Cleaning its snow white fur, the other servant of Lucifer raised the fallen

heart to its canine fangs before biting the dried arteries. A satanic howl escaped the colossal

beast’s lips as it sucked the raw meat off its victim severed back. A few feet away from the

delirious carnage laid Red Riding’s Hood velvet cloak now covered in snow white follicles.