If you like dark, fucked up stories, then this fairytale is what you've been looking for.
Trigger Warning: Harsh Language, Violence, Drug Abuse
Reading time: 5 min
Little Red Riding Hood
Another day, another bullshit errand. My mother’s head lies motionless on the table.
She is knocked out, wasted, as usual.
“Wake up, for fuck's sake. Where's the money?”
“What money?” she slurs.
“The one we owe Grandma. She wanted it tonight.” I hiss.
“Your grandma is a sick person,” my mother mumbles.
Ever since she started working at her old job again, mom drinks five times as much.
We don’t make enough money, so grandma helps us with the rent and some living expenses. That old stingy bitch is loaded with money.
“In the basket,” murmurs mom, her head still glued to the table.
I check for the money, take the basket, put on my red riding hood and leave without saying a word.
I light my cigarette as I walk down the path, there’s trash everywhere.
It’s a miracle I still didn’t encounter any dead junkie.
“Aren’t you a bit too young to smoke?”
I turn around. A man is leaning on a tree just a few meters away from me.
“That's none of your business,” I scoff.
He’s wearing short, dirty cargo pants, an old, moth-eaten shirt with the face of a wolf printed on it. He must be some sort of homeless hipster.
I decide this is not worth my time and leave.
“Not even a goodbye? That’s not very kind of you.”
I stare at him with disgust, “What do you want?”
“To see what’s under that little red hood of yours,” he grunts.
His smile sickens me. I roll my eyes and walk off.
“Whatever. You’re not even my type!”
“I'll be damned, 14-year-old girls are not your type? Get lost.”
He laughs while approaching me.
“I thought you youngsters understand a good joke. You seem stressed out.
Let me make it up to you.”
I watch him take out his backpack and grab for something.
“You seem like a nice girl. I would like to gift you some candy, take it as an apology.”
I look at the little plastic bag in his hand. He’s smiling with all of his rotten teeth.
“Meth?” I ask. He nods, still smiling. I take it from his hand and shrug him off, “Sure, you’re forgiven, whatever.”
His eyebrows raise a little, he smiles.
“You need a pipe?”
I stash the drugs in my basket.
“I got my own. Thanks.”
By the time he is gone, I take out the bag he gave me.
I let my body drop on a mossy rock, take out my pipe and try out the gift. The flame of my lighter, the hissing sound and bitter taste of the melting meth, and the chirping of the birds are the last things I can recall, then I black out.
“How the fuck is it so cold?” I stutter, I look down at my body.
I’m half-naked. “Shit, not this again,” I say to myself.
I feel like shit, my whole body is aching, and I am freezing. I get up, groaning.
I start looking for my clothes. Then, I freeze; fuck, the basket, the money. I screwed up.
I spot it down the path, next to a bush. I pick it up, knowing it will be empty. I know that this is that wolf-t-shirt asshole's fault, his meth was cut with some junk. Maybe I can explain the situation to grandma, maybe she won’t get mad after all.
When I arrive, it’s nearly sundown. After ten minutes of banging at her door, she shows up.
“You look like shit,” grandma states.
“I feel like shit,” I answer.
She looks at me, hesitates for a second, then lets me in.
“I hope that besides all this dirt, you also brought money into my house.”
I stand next to the entrance, feeling hangover and drowsy. I feel like leaving, but I really don’t want to go through the forest again. Especially not this late at night. She sits down on her armchair and glares at me, disgusted.
“They stole it from you, didn’t they?” her words pour on me like acid.
I stare at her kitsch tapestry, motionless. My eyes fill up with tears.
“I’ll give you one more week to find the money. Now go wear something decent, you'll find stuff in my closet.”
I look at my red riding hood vest, it’s ripped and covered in dirt.
“And take a shower, you junkie.” She shouts as I leave the room.
After the needed shower, I come back into the living wearing fresh clothes.
“Why are there so many cameras in your house, grandma?” I ask.
“To see you better, my dear.”
“And what about the hidden recorders in the bedroom?”
“To hear you better, Red. What’s with all these questions?” she hisses.
Still not convinced, go on:
“Ok, but what about those latex gloves in the kitchen?”
She stands up, comes up to me, and slaps me.
“To scold you better! Why are you snooping around my place?”
I hesitate. Before I can ask one last question, the doorbell rings. My grandma gives
me a disgruntled look and goes for the door. She looks at a tiny monitor next to the
entrance and then removes the lock.
“You’re late,” she tells a man at the door.
“Had some distractions along the way,” he replies.
A shiver goes down my back as I hear his weirdly familiar voice.
“No money, no dope dear, you know the drill” I hear her say.
“Yeah, I know, I have it.” the man grunts.
Suddenly, I recognize the voice. I run to the door and kick the wolf t-shirt dude in the crotch.
“You drugged me and then stole that money from me!” I shout.
Grandma doesn't seem bothered, she grabs me by the ear.
“This is not how we treat our customers!”
Outraged, I pull away and kick the junkie.
He, clearly mad, slaps me in the face. My nose starts bleeding, I try to hit him again. He pushes me violently to the ground, my head makes a hollow sound as it hits the floor.
“Hunter! We have a situation.” I hear my grandma shout.
I turn around and see a young man with a rifle gun come out of the bedroom.
All I can think of is: “I need to get out. Now.” I push the junkie away and throw myself through the door on the lawn.
I hear a shot. I look up as the wolf guy tumbles to the ground. I faint.
I wake up in my grandma’s bed. I can hear her chatting with Hunter in another room.
“Did you lose your mind?” she sounds furious.
“I’m sorry. I was aiming for the girl,” Hunter replies.
“What? My granddaughter?” She starts laughing hysterically. "You're unbelievable."
I roll my eyes and drag myself off the bed.
I grab grandma’s wallet, take out some money, and leave through the window.