Blanchette

Red Hooded girl with a basket of bread, Went through the woods where the green had fled, "Stay on the path,” her mother had said, “Don't talk to strangers, or you'll end up dead." She hummed a tune, as the branches creaked, The moss grew thick and the shadows leaked, A wolf stepped out with a grin, so wide, "Where are you going?" The red girl lied. "To granny's,” she said, but her voice rang strange, Like a song, half lost, in a forest's range, The wolf took off down a hidden track, But he never should have turned his back. At Granny's house, he played his part, Clawed at the door with a hungered heart, He wore her gown, pulled the covers tight, And waited there, through the crawling night. But when she came, she did not flee, She smiled and said, “You came for me.” His teeth were sharp, but her eyes were deep, And something old began to seep. "The better to see,” the creature began, But she cut him off, with a lifted hand, She whispered words that were not her own, And the floor grew soft, like forest loam, The walls bent in, the shadows swelled, He tried to run, but the world had held, Red hooded girl, with eyes aglow, Unleashed the thing that waits below.