“This is the story of how I never stopped running.
This is the story of how,
when the wolves knocked,
I met them at the door
and I became the beast, instead.”
— Ashe Vernon, from Little Red, Belly of the Beast
Some days I never want to stop running. Some days I think it’s better to become the wolf than get eaten whole.
Little Red Riding Hood was one of my favorite stories when I was a little girl. It wasn’t one of the toned down versions either. My grandfather was from Denmark and my grandmother was German. So that meant Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm. If you’re unfamiliar with the original versions of fairy tales, you should look it up sometime. Brutal and bloody. Despite that fact, I rather fancied being Red Riding Hood. My grandmother made me a red cape. The same one that made me a suede hand beaded Indian princess dress. I made a more convincing Red Riding Hood than Indian princess, I can assure you that. 😉
This was one of the fairy tale books I loved. My parents still have it. I’d sit for hours with it in my lap. The cover mesmerized me. Red embossed leather.
I think the Red I had envisioned was more like this: 
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