Red Riding Hood ( gran's P.O.V.)

She coughed and spluttered onto her fray, fraught hanky. This flu she’d had for over a month, and by God was it making her life a misery. She wiped her nose on the hanky, it was rapidly becoming useless, teeming with wet patches it was.

She hadn’t left her bed for half a day despite the protests of her elderly bladder, and hadn’t seen another person in over four.

She heard a dull thumping outside, the miller was chopping wood. She tried to shout out, she needed someone to talk to, but her throat, dry as if laced with sand, wouldn’t let her. Her eyes watered with pain.

The thumping stopped.

‘Oh no!’ she said huffily trying to mask her sorrow. Tears trickled down her craggy face.

A Robin’s breast flashed red past her window and snatched her from despair, Little Red Riding Hood. The joy of her life was that little girl. Her insouciant smile lifted her heart, and the hope of receiving her occasional visits kept her from falling into perpetual depression. She was the only person who seemed to enjoy visiting her.

‘Seemed to enjoy’ she whispered and pondered those words. Does she really like spending time with me? Her memory of Red Riding Hood’s happy smile was morphed into one of a grin concealing boredom.

Suddenly she heard a knock at the door ‘It’s me Grandma, Little Red Riding Hood.’ Her voice sounded hoarse. Maybe she’s brought the sickness that’ll finish me off thought the old lady. ‘Come in, pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up’ she said without her usual enthusiasm.

The door flung open and a huge wolf burst in. It leapt on her bed and blasted her face with its putrid breath.

Guardian Angels come in strange forms she mused as the wolf’s gaping jaws come down on her.