Red Riding

I waited patiently in the midst of the woods, surrounded by tall trees looming over me, blanketing me and giving me comfort. The comfort drawn from the familiarity of the place, a place which I knew all too well. The sun shined through the tops of the trees, causing a pale yellow glow to light up the area. The leaves which lay upon the floor came in an array of colours from browns to greens, oranges to reds, showing the whole time line of seasons scattered along the ground. There was a silence which filled the air, a silence which was serene and still. A silence which didn’t ask for any noise.

I lay amongst the leaves, closing my eyes and feeling the warmth of the sunbeams fold over me, providing me security and safety. This was my sanctuary. The place I came to when I wanted to escape, be free.

I knew this place so well; it brought back so many familiar memories. All I had to do was close my eyes and let my senses bring me to a memory. Faintly, my mind tricked me into thinking I could smell the sweet smell of my grandmother’s baking. I let all the sugary goodness fill my sense and was immediately drawn to her memory.

Her floral apron was always wrapped around her as she baked my favourite cakes. Anything I wanted she would bake. From vanilla cupcakes, to banana cake, to chocolate cake, would all be mine to eat at every stay. I always wanted to stay at grandmas. The way she treated me like I was a princess. The way she called me her ‘little red riding hood’ and warned me of Big Bad Wolfs. The way she spoke, filled me with fear of these wolves. The snarling teeth, the yellow eyes, the howl which could stop a heartbeat. But those were kid’s tales and I wasn’t afraid.

But then she became so fragile and frail. Though always still equally full of life. Always wearing a smile that never faded. Always welcoming. Maybe too welcoming.

She invited him in. She needed a big, strong man. To fix a cupboard, to mend a pipe, to chop some wood. He was always there to help, so much that he consumed her with his presence. I hid in a small alcove and watched him in awe. My grandma’s saviour. To me, a small child, he was a hero. The knight in shining armour. The charming prince. The cliché.

Though I never let him see me. He was always in and out the house and I was always hidden away watching from the darkness. I was always waiting. He couldn’t see me now, I was too young. Too young and naive for him, he would only look at me and see a child. So I hid for the opportune moment when I could show him what he wouldn’t see before.

Opening my eyes, I stared above me in the trees overhead where there was a large spider web which connected two huge branches together, and glistened when the sun touched upon it, sending out silver sparkles like diamonds. I watched absent-mindedly as birds flew from nest to nest, occasionally breaking the silence with soft songs.

As I licked my lips, I let out a low gentle sigh. A sigh full of longing. A longing for him. For those dark eyes with so much mystery behind them. Those silences which spoke a thousand words. That rough voice which caused my stomach to twist. His thick dark hair which was so easy to get lost in. His wolf-like demeanour which I longed for is what brought me back each time.

It was in these woods when I last clapped eyes on him. Ever since I’d always come back to this spot, hoping to see him once more. Each time I came I waited amongst these trees hoping to hear his howl. Yet every visit was futile. He never came back.

He was prowling amongst the trees when I last saw him. My honey blonde hair just brushing my shoulders then. My slim framework covered only by a thin white sundress. I stepped out from behind a tree trunk. I made sure he saw me. I made sure his eyes took in every detail of me. I danced closer towards him, letting him see my every fairy-like movement, every freckle which dotted my tanned shoulders and every gleam hidden in my eyes. I revelled in the attention.

He watched patiently. He watched as I put on a show, a performance of a lifetime. He was my audience and he was perfectly attentive.

He spoke few and little words but when he did speak I was enthralled. Hanging on to everything which slipped past his lips. Like nothing I’d ever heard before, his words touched me. They reached out and filled me up inside, heavy with meaning. Like stones, each word weighed me down, weighed me down to him.

Standing up I pulled my red hood over my long blonde hair to hide my childlike features. This was no time for games. Concentrating I remembered his scent, how it lingered on my cherry lips. Playing the memory over and over again, recounting every detail, I set off in search for him. Determinedly I darted through the trees, eyes focused, looking out for him, I remembered the moment we first met. That was nearly a whole year ago now, when my innocence was a hindrance.

Not anymore.

His body was pressed against mine, his breath hot upon my lips. It took every ounce of my concentration not to quiver under his touch. Our foreheads touched, his brow was furrowed as though he was fighting against his urges. I didn’t want this suspense. I leaned forward, so my small delicate lips pressed themselves against his.

“No,” he whispered, throwing me back and off track. The look in his eyes was haunting, so many emotions lay there. I tried to see through them, to pick up the book and read his thoughts scrawled across the page. Yet all I got was blank pages to flick through again and again. “You’re too-”

“Don’t say it,” I cut across him. I didn’t need to hear I was too young. I thought now was the opportune moment but it was all ruined now. Everything I’d waited for had been torn apart.

Still tearing through the woods, I suddenly came to a halt. I blocked the memory out of my mind, refusing to let the tears fall as the thought of that moment still stung deeply. My eyes spotted him as he casually strolled through the trees, seemingly heading towards a nearby river. Breaking out into a run I reached the river’s edge and placed myself in plain sight, so I could be seen from every angle.

I lay in the grass and held my breath and my heart quickened nervously. I waited for the sound of his approaching boots rustling through the leaves. Though all I could hear was the gentle trickle from the river next to me. Tightly I shut my eyes, I tried to block out the sound of the river, to only focus on the sound of him approaching. I listened intently, though the river continued to surge as though mocking me. The sound appeared deafening. No matter how hard I tried to block the sound out, it screamed at me, teasing me as I struggled to hear him approach.

He pushed me away, rejecting me. My eyes stung but I refused to let him see me weak. This wasn’t how I wanted everything to happen. He was supposed to love me, adore me

But he didn’t. He easily discarded me. Threw me aside as though I was worthless. He was meant to see me as prefect. So I would make myself perfect for him.

Then I heard, a long wolfy drawl which tore me from my memory and into the present. So slow and deep. “Hello,” The ‘o’ dragged out, making my stomach squirm and my heart beat faster. Eyes closed the sound of his finally approaching boots crunching through the leaves seemed thunderous. Closer. Louder. So close. Until silence. There he was, stood right next to me.

I opened my eyes, and I saw his stare straight back. Those deep mysterious eyes I remember so well, connecting with my pale cornflower blue eyes. Eyes which confessed my innocence. His hand reached out to mine, a thick hairy paw, and it wrapped around my small delicate fingers. He guided me through the woods, protecting me. Little me. Just sweet sixteen. He led me deep into the woods, further than I have ever been. Where the roots of the trees lay tangled on the floor, thorns from the branches tore and snagged my clothes. My snow white stockings ripped. My red coat shredded, leaving small pieces of cloth strewn through the wood. A path marked deep with crimson.

When we reached the clearing, it was dark. No sunlight shone through the trees like it did in my sanctuary. The thick oak trees overlapped creating shadows which danced along the ground. I stood in his shadow, waiting for his word. He turned to face me, creating a silence which screamed. Raising a fingertip, he gently tucked my blond locks behind my ear, and then brushed his finger along my slender cheek.

He made me feel beautiful.

For the third time that day I lay down, though this time brambles and twigs lay uncomfortably underneath me. He lay down beside me, his gaze penetrating me. I felt vulnerable and open. As though he could see through me and see all my fears and insecurities. I felt like an open book and he was reading intently, though all I was left with was the same blank pages to flick through.

Then he took my innocence. No, I gave him my innocence. Handed to him on a silver plate. With my eyes closed I imagined running along a beach, barefoot and free. There was a howling in the air, but it wasn’t familiar or comforting. I imagined the sea rough and coarse though unable to touch me. Unable to hurt me.

Then in the distance, I saw something. So faint and blurred it was hard to distinguish what, though the colour was white, a white that was almost blinding, it was so pure. I watched until everything came into focus, and there was a white dove before me. Though it didn’t move, it waited so still as though waiting for me. As though I was to give the word to see it fly away. But I didn’t want to; it was too beautiful so I waited until as long as I could. And then I opened my mouth to whisper, and it was gone.

I opened my eyes.

Somehow, I didn’t feel beautiful anymore.

I wanted so much from him that he couldn’t give, that he didn’t want to give. I wanted the Prince Charming and the fairytale cliché in him. But that wasn’t him. He wasn’t the knight in shining armour. He wasn’t the Big Bad Wolf either. He was just a man. I was a wolf, the way I hunted him down and tore out anything I could take from him. I lured him in, until I had him in my claws. But then I coward under him. He was a man and I was child. So weak and innocent. I didn’t want what I had sought. The game was over, and it felt like I had lost. I felt so empty and hollow. I felt nothing.