I’ve been struggling to write recently, so I’m easing myself back in with something familiar: a 14 line fairytale retelling. Little Red Riding Hood is one of my favorites, but also one I’ve never written. I decided to play with the trope of the girl and the wolf being the same (inspired by Once Upon a Time and Ever After High).
Feedback welcome. This is still very rough.
On these full moon nights I hold tight
to my own hands, afraid of what they’d do.
Other girls latch windows, bar doors, keep
the dangers out but I have never been
another girl. The monster
lives in my room, my bed, my bones,
clawing up my trachea until my voice goes
jagged, all but gone. It opens me
messily, wanting out, never leaving,
expanding until these walls are a tight fit.
What big eyes I have, what teeth.
Don’t call me little. And a hood
can only hide so much longing to run,
to be, to take, so much greed. All that remains is red.