Rebecca

A Fairy Tale

A girl, dark haired and brave, is out in nature. Feeling the sticks as they crack beneath her feet, she walks through the deepening wood. The cold air cannot reach her tender ears, all cosy and protected by crimson softness. It is starting to get dark, the pheasants are calling and the clouds are looking heavy and swollen.

Suddenly, excitement in the pit of her stomach lurches into a dreadful fire. Something is behind me, she thinks. She doesn’t even know how it is that she knows this, the figure behind her is completely silent, but he is there.  Two amber discs stare out from the gloomy undergrowth behind her.

She starts running, and the sticks begin to crack in ever quicker succession, an accelerando to the beating of her racing heart. Branches are clawing at her shoulders and knocking at the basket as she runs like desperate pleading hands. She holds on tight to the knobbly wicker handle even though her knuckles are aching with the cold.

She steals a glance behind her and there he is, like a wave, rolling in behind. What a silly idea it was of hers, to take such a route, a girl, all alone. Outrageous really. She could hardly blame him for giving chase. It was her decision to venture into the darkness, a gleaming ruby dangling on a string before his vacant eyes. If only she were a modern day woman, she would have had a phone of course, with a wood-cutter on speed-dial and a safety tracking app to gallantly protect her from the inevitable abuse of the world. She would, no doubt, have taken all the sensible safety precautions that come with being a woman, naturally following all instructions listed on the box.

Nobody thinks to question what the wolf was doing there, he was just doing what wolves do. It’s in their nature to hunt and sniff and scavenge amongst the dirt. They’re allowed to have stained dirty coats and to think of nothing else, but how they will devour their next tender victim.

A thought occurs to her as she is running full pelt. What if I just stop running? And so she does. There is a slow motion pause, and then a crash, and a sudden jolt in her back. The objects fly out of the basket and are scattered amongst the mossy detritus of the woods. She thinks to herself, as she glances around, that she will have to pick those things up, and then go and explain to grandma over cake, why it is time to stop running. –