Little Red Riding Hood: The True Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Children Stories  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story of Little Red Riding Hood. Told by a different voice, the voice of the Wolf!

Submitted: September 24, 2011

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Submitted: September 24, 2011

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Once upon a time there was a wolf, that wolf was me. If I was given a fairy godmother like that ungrateful Cinderella, I wouldn’t spend my last wish on a pretty dress or a pumpkin coach, I would use it to redo one particular day of my life, the day I ate Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother. It all started at about 9:00 that morning when I was driving to work. I was halfway there and all of a sudden my car stopped. I thought my car was out of petrol so I looked left and right to see if there was anyone who could help me, and that was when I saw a tiny house sitting by itself, on the top of a small hill. I pushed my car to the side of the road, and then walked up the hill just in case the owner of the house might have some petrol I could use.

 

I finally arrived at the front door and rang the doorbell. As soon as I did, a large wasp headed straight for me and was attempting to sting me. Sure enough, it ended up stinging my nose. Opening the door was a little old woman who looked very ill. She was probably expecting her granddaughter to show up with some treats, but instead she saw me, a 150 pound wolf, yelping because of the pain that wasp gave me. The woman was so scared of me that she ran inside screaming and didn’t even think about shutting the door. Her house was the only one for miles and the only place nearby I really had a chance of getting petrol so I decided to stay and ask the woman after she finished screaming whether or not she had any petrol. Her screams were starting to give me a headache, and trust me, you don’t want to be near a wolf who has a headache. It was getting so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think and I swallowed her whole.

 

Seconds later I heard a knock on the door. “Hi Grandma, it’s me, Little Red Riding Hood, I bought you some apple pie” the girl said. I panicked, I couldn’t just let the poor girl in and tell her I ate her grandmother. So instead I took off my jacket and chucked it on the floor hoping she would notice, I went into the nearest closet and found some of her clothes. Then put them on as fast as I could and jumped into her bed.

 

“Come in, come in,” I said in my highest voice. When I opened the door, I saw that the girl was only about 8 years old and that there wasn’t much to be afraid of.

She came closer to the bed I was lying on and was staring at me with her small, adorable eyes waiting for me to say something.  

“Thank you for the apple pie,” I said, “now go home.”

“Oh! Grandma, what big ears you have” she cried.

“All the better to hear you with, my dear” I replied

“But, grandmother, what large hands you have”  

“All the better to hug you with” I said

“Grandma, what large eyes you have” she exclaimed

‘All the better to see you with, my dear” I replied.

 

 

The look on her face said she didn’t believe me so she suddenly took off the night mask and saw me for who I really was. Then all of a sudden she started shrieking. The noise was giving me yet another headache that I stood up and I gobbled her up.

 I paced towards the front door, so distracted I forgot to get the petrol and walked down the hill back to my car pretending that nothing had happened. I got in the car, turned the key, then strangely enough, the car started. I put the car on drive and placed my foot on the pedal. It was working fine. I looked at the petrol meter and it wasn’t on empty, in fact it was almost on full. I then figured out that the reason I suddenly stopped before wasn’t because I had no petrol left, it was because I had my foot on the wrong pedal.

 

Later that day reporters came to my house and started to interview me. Apparently there was a house right next door which I didn’t see; the owners heard screaming so they rang the cops. How did they find out it was me you ask? Well on the scene there was a jacket, a brown jacket, and inside that jacket it said.........

 

If found, please return to

Mr Pawson

258 Forest Lane

 

I told the reporters every single detail, the wasp attack, the petrol mishap and the little girl with the apple pie, and do you know what those sneaky reporters did, they changed the story completely. On the front page of the Press it said that I, the wolf came to the woman’s house because I wanted to eat Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother for lunch.

 

On the way to work that day I noticed three houses next to one another, one made of straw, one made of sticks and the other out of bricks, maybe I might visit them next time I want petrol.


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