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Daily Archives: September 10, 2025

Little Red Riding Hood


Little Red Riding Hood and the Dalek

Chapter One: The Basket of Cakes

Once upon a time, there lived a cheerful little girl who wore a cloak the colour of bright cherries, with a hood that framed her round face. Because she wore it so often, the neighbours called her Little Red Riding Hood.

One fine morning, her mother packed a basket with cakes, butter, and a flask of hot chocolate.
“Take these to your grandmother, dear,” she said. “She has not been well. But remember—stay on the path. And don’t talk to strangers.”

Little Red Riding Hood promised she would be good, although she was secretly curious about the forest. She kissed her mother’s cheek, hoisted her basket, and set off humming into the green, leafy world.

What she did not know was that a strange new visitor had arrived in the forest—a creature made of shining metal, whose voice echoed like thunder.


Chapter Two: The Stranger in the Woods

The path twisted beneath tall oaks. Birds should have been singing, but they were silent. Even the squirrels kept to their holes.

Suddenly, there came a grinding, wheezing noise, followed by a screech:
“IDENTIFY! IDENTIFY!”

Red stopped in her tracks. Before her stood something unlike any fox, wolf, or bear. It was shaped like a giant pepperpot, plated in bronze and gold, with a single glowing eye.

“I—I’m Little Red Riding Hood,” she stammered. “Who are you?”

“I—AM—A—DALEK!” the creature boomed. “WHERE—ARE—YOU—GOING?”

“To visit my grandmother in her cottage, with cakes and hot chocolate.”

The Dalek’s dome swivelled. “WHERE—IS—THE—COTTAGE?”

Red pointed, still polite though her knees were shaking. “Over the hill, through the glade, by the old stone well.”

Without another word, the Dalek spun round and rolled away, faster than seemed possible.


Chapter Three: The Cottage in Danger

Grandmother’s cottage was small, with roses round the door and a chimney that puffed like a kettle. Inside, the poor woman was knitting by the fire when—CRASH!—her door burst open.

The Dalek burst in, screeching:
“EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”

Granny dropped her knitting and dived under the bed. The Dalek considered blasting her to pieces but then remembered a half-broken file in its databank titled “HUMAN FAIRY STORIES: STRATEGIC USE.”

“NEW STRATEGY: DECEPTION!” it bellowed. With difficulty, it plucked Granny’s nightcap with its plunger and balanced it on its dome. Then it reversed awkwardly into her bed, pulling the blanket up to its grille.

The disguise was… questionable.


Chapter Four: “What Big Lights You Have!”

Little Red Riding Hood soon arrived, her basket swinging. She pushed open the cottage door, surprised that it hung off its hinges.

Inside was smoke, scorch marks, and splintered wood. But on the bed lay her “grandmother,” strangely lumpy under the quilt.

“Oh, Grandmother, what bright blue lights you have!”

“THE BETTER—TO—SEE YOU WITH!” screeched the Dalek.

“Oh, Grandmother, what a terrible voice you have!”

“THE BETTER—TO—COMMAND YOUR EXTERMINATION WITH!”

And with that, the Dalek threw off the quilt, cap flying, and aimed its death-ray straight at Little Red Riding Hood.


Chapter Five: The Hot Chocolate Surprise

hot chocolate surprise

Red gasped. She stumbled backward, clutching her basket. In her fright, the flask of hot chocolate slipped from her hands. The lid popped, and steaming cocoa splashed across the Dalek’s grille.

Instantly, sparks flew.
“WARNING! COCOA—INTRUSION! CIRCUITRY COMPROMISED!”

The Dalek spun in circles, smashing Granny’s dresser, knocking over the kettle, and shouting, “MALFUNCTION! MALFUNCTION!”

With one last fizzing shriek, it toppled into the fireplace, where sparks and smoke finished the job. The Dalek went silent, its single eye fading to black.


Chapter Six: Safe at Last

safe at last

From under the bed, Grandmother crawled out, trembling but alive.
“Oh, my dear child!” she cried. “You have saved me—from that dreadful… whatever-it-was!”

Little Red Riding Hood smiled shyly. “It seems hot chocolate can defeat more than just a cold day.”

They sat together, nibbling cakes and drinking what cocoa remained. And though the cottage was rather scorched and in need of repair, both were glad to be alive.


Epilogue: The Moral

From that day forth, Little Red Riding Hood never wandered through the forest without a flask of hot chocolate, just in case. And the villagers told the story for generations: how a girl in a red cloak defeated a terrifying Dalek with nothing more than kindness, quick thinking, and a very sticky drink.

Moral: Even the smallest comforts can triumph over the greatest terrors.

 

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THE SHADOW THAT LEARNED TO PRAY

THE SHADOW THAT LEARNED TO PRAY

THE SHADOW THAT LEARNED TO PRAY

(From the Papers of Canon O’Shaughnessy, with Notes and an Appendix on “An Faire Dorcha”)

By Dr. H. C. Ellingham, F.S.I.A.


I. Introductory Remarks

In arranging the literary remains of the late Canon O’Shaughnessy of Carlow, I discovered a packet of letters, tied with twine and labelled in his hand “Ballyroguearty — Donnelly.” These were addressed to him from Father Donnelly, parish priest of Ballyroguearty, in the closing months of 1874.

The contents pertain to certain manifestations within the parish church of St. Brendan’s. I beg leave to lay the documents before the Society, together with marginalia of Canon O’Shaughnessy, and such commentary as I may append.


II. The Donnelly Letters

First Appearance

Letter, Oct. 18th, 1874:

“I perceived at the last pew, beneath the north wall, a figure robed in darkness, so dense the candles gave it no light. Its head was bowed, and it muttered in broken Latin.”

Transcription (as copied by Donnelly):

MIS-ER-E-RE  NOBIS  
DEVS   TENEBRARVM  
ORDO   ÆTERNVM  
EXTERMINARE   PECCATVM

(Translation: “Have mercy upon us, God of Shadows, eternal order, destroy sin.”)


The Signs

Letter, Nov. 2nd, 1874:

“Wax poured like wounds from the candles; the bells swung without hand; the saints wept black tears. Through it all the shadow chanted…”

Transcription:

SANC-TV[S]   SANC-TV[S]   SANC-TV[S]  
ORDO   DOMINATORVM  
PLENVM   EST   VNIVERSVM  
GLORIA   TENEBRARVM

(A parody of the Sanctus. Here the glory belongs to shadows, not the Lord of Hosts.)

Want to reead more?

Click on the link, below, and be scared!

The Shadow that learned to pray

 
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Posted by on September 10, 2025 in scare, shadow

 

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