The forest was always a place of shadows and whispers, but tonight, it felt like the very trees were holding their breath. Hunter Gabriel Thorne gripped his rusted axe, its weight a familiar comfort against the biting cold. He was tracking a beast, not the four-legged kind, but something far more insidious, something that left a trail of mangled bodies and a chilling absence of sound in its wake.
He stumbled upon her by the ancient, gnarled oak, its branches like skeletal fingers reaching for the moonless sky. She stood in the eerie silence, a figure cloaked in crimson, eerily familiar. Her hood, once a symbol of innocence, was now stained with what Gabriel prayed was mud, but feared was something far worse. Her eyes, glowing like embers in the twilight, fixed on him with an unnerving intensity. Her smile, a gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth, sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
This was not the Little Red Riding Hood of the old tales. Her skin was a sickly grey, scarred and torn, her once-delicate features twisted into a grotesque mask of primal hunger. Her hands, gnarled and clawed, clutched a heavy, blood-stained cleaver, its metallic tang sharp in the still air. Bits of fur and tattered clothing clung to her, grim trophies of past encounters. She was a creature of the night, a monstrous inversion of the childhood fable.
Gabriel had heard the whispers in the village, hushed tales of a girl who had gone into the woods to visit her grandmother, only to return…changed. They spoke of the unholy strength, the insatiable appetite, and the chilling laughter that echoed through the trees before another villager vanished.
“Grandmother always said to beware the big bad wolf,” the creature rasped, her voice a guttural growl that scraped against Gabriel’s ears. “But she never warned me about becoming one.”
She took a step, then another, the cleaver dragging on the leaf-strewn ground with a sickening scrape. Gabriel felt his blood run cold, his axe suddenly feeling inadequate against the pure, unadulterated malevolence emanating from her.
“You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” she hissed, her glowing eyes never leaving his. “Come to put me down, just like the rest of them?” Her grin widened, revealing more of those terrifying teeth. “But I’m not a wolf you can cage, old man. I’m the forest’s retribution.”
With a sudden, horrifying burst of speed, she lunged. Gabriel barely had time to raise his axe as the monster that was once Little Red Riding Hood descended upon him, her cleaver flashing in the dim light, ready to add another bloody chapter to her dark fairytale. The last sound he heard was her unholy cackle, mingling with the whispers of the ancient, unforgiving woods.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 