This is an assignment I did for my AP Language and Composition Class, for the fairytale project: 

Little [F]red Riding Hood

 

Once Upon a Time, there was a Little Girl. No one remembers her given name, for everyone simply called her “Little Red Riding

  Hood,” after the  carmine cloak she was so famous for wearing. She was beautiful and sweet and kind, and all the boys were after her.

But this story isn’t about her. 

This Story is about her slightly younger brother, Fred. He was not as popular as his sister, nor was he that good-looking: 

he actually looked rather effeminate. It was near impossible to tell Fred and Little Red apart from a distance. 

Our Story begins in the same house, not so long after that of Little Red. She was still rather flustered from her previous trip

into the woods, and said naught more than “the wolf… the wolf….” when asked about it. The stories got a little out of hand, gossip spreads 

like wildfire in small villages such as theirs. And so, when it was time to pay granny another of their annual visits, Fred was elected. His 

mother’s excuse was that Little Red was “still too traumatized by her experience” to go. 

So our young lad, a basket of goodies on his arm,  set out on his journey. It was okay at first, walking through the village was fine

and then the start of the forest; but once he got farther into the forest the birds stopped singing and it was dark and foreboding. He could 

see his breath materializing in front of him in small white puffs. It was cold, still early spring. He shrugged his sister’s cloak, which he had

borrowed for the journey, closer about him and continued on his way, pulling the hood up as he went. Still spooked by the silence and 

foreboding nature of the forest, his pace quickened until he was at a near trot. 

He continued at his fast pace until he reached a clearing: it was bright and sunny, the birds were singing, and there was a quiet

little creek gurgling through it. He decided to stop here and regain his composure, and to pick some flowers for Granny. So he sat amongst

the flowers and picked every type within his grasp. As he reached out to grab a particularly beautiful crocus, he looked up and saw a pair 

of eyes staring out from the woods. He froze instinctively. What it if was one of those wolves? 

To his relief, a boy of about his sister’s age appeared from the shadows. Fred smiled, relieved. It wasn’t a wolf, after all. But then 

Fred noticed that the boy hadn’t even greeted him. That was rather rude of him. Fred stared quizzically at the boy. This was odd: he was just 

standing there, staring. Just as Fred was about to say something, the boy stepped even further into the light and Fred got a good look at him.

It was Rupert, that creepy boy from the village who liked Little Red. The boy continued moving closer and closer, an obscene grin spread 

across his face. Fred’s feet finally realizing what they should do, he got up and ran as fast as he could from Rupert, all the way to granny’s 

house. As he banged frantically on the door, he looked behind him and saw Rupert not so far behind him. “GRANNY! GRANNY! 

OPEN THE DOOR, I NEED HELP!” granny, hearing his cries for help, opened the door and Fred practically fell in and then closed the 

door behind him. Then granny, worried by the events that had just happened, asked Fred what had been going on: “Why, grandson, how 

fast fast you ran in here!” to which he replied: “All the better to get away!” and she questioned him again: “Why, grandson, how hard 

you’re breathing!” and he replied: “All the better to catch my breath!” and she inquired further: “Why, grandson, what is that banging on 

the door?!” for now Rupert had presumably reached the house and was trying to force himself in. “Because, grandmother, Rupert is 

at the door thinking I’m my sister and wants to do who knows what to me!” 

Granny looked at Fred for a second, registering what was going on. She then whipped her cell phone out of her pocketbook 

and calmly dialed a number. “Yes, sorry for bothering you. Could you possibly come over? we have a bit of a problem. Maybe you could 

come and help us? Yes… m-hmm…. thanks, we’ll be seeing you shortly.” She swiftly replaced her phone and then calmly sat down and 

started knitting. Fred looks at her quizzically, opening his mouth to ask her what was going on, but she hushes him, “You’ll see in good 

time, grandson.”

The banging on the door continues for a few more heart wrenching minutes but suddenly stops. They hear a blood-curdling scream

and thrashing about; the sound of flesh tearing and some more screams resonate through the forest. Finally all is quiet, until a light nock is

heard upon the door. Granny calmly gets up from her chair, passes by the frightened Fred, and calmly unlatches the door and swings it open, 

it’s old hinges creaking and groaning. Beyond the door is a creature neither man nor wolf: standing up like a man but with dominantly lupine

features. “Ah, Lupius. Thank you kindly for the help with our trouble, you were a great help.” the creature looks towards the fear-stricken boy, 

blood dripping copiously from his jaws, and smiles. “There is nothing to fear now, boy.” Fred stares, horrified, then crumpled to the floor

in a dead faint.