Little Red Riding Hood (open)

[Elle Nora Taylor]

Once Upon A Time…

Even though Elle had been hanging out with Curran all day while he worked a shift at his mother’s book store, she was now on the phone making plans to meet with him soon, at a coffee shop around the corner from his bookstore as soon as it was time to close the door.
The call was ended with a breathless whisper of adoration, followed by a giggle after the young man said something in return, and when she tucked the slim silver cell phone back into the pocket of her coat, the willowy blonde was wearing a radiant grin and her twinkling blue eyes were upturned to the heavens.
So what if people were watching her. So what if people that she was absolutely mad? The off-duty waitress twirled and then did a goofy little dance that looked something like this: i54.tinypic.com/2zfl7xk.gif
And then fairly floated down the lightly snow moistened sidewalk.

It was Elle’s only day off this week, and she’d quite enjoyed spending it doing nothing, but doing nothing in the company of her beloved wily and wolfish boyfriend, Curran Pettelli. The blonde had needed do a few necessary things however; little errands that had unfortunately pulled her away from sitting cross legged behind the counter at the store, reading a page from some book two and three times before she could grasp it because the charming young man was flirting with her, or teasing her, or even whilst he wasn’t even paying her heed as he helped a customer with something she just couldn’t help watching him and smiling quietly.

So here she was with some time to kill; her errands were done but she didn’t want to go back to the book store already. Absence did make the heart grow fonder. She knew this from experience because whenever she wasn’t with Curran her heart hurt, just a little…and when she was back within his gravity, it definitely felt more adoring.
Elle folded her hands to her chest and sighed contentedly. Yes. She felt so, very adoring.
The weather wasn’t that bad today. Actually, it was beautiful. Though still really chilly and a touch windy, the sun had been out all day and the way the rays of warmth felt on her cheeks was…brilliant. It promised Spring wasn’t too far away. Then it would be lazy rainy days (she loved to stay in bed until afternoon during a lazy rainy day.) It would be wild flowers and riding around with the windows open and the flowery breeze always felt so magnificent on her face and in her long curls.

Oh, what was that?

Though the sun had just about disappeared behind the horizon, a warm glow still lit the world like a peach and lavender tinted kiss. A particularly warm flicker landed on the grimy display window of an ancient bookstore but what her sapphire eyes settled on made her heart twirl and a little giggle escape her lips. It was her fairytale.
Little Red Riding Hood

The book looked old; like…really old. Worn brown leather cover, sewn at the binding with golden string; the string was unraveling in some places. It was a wonder that she could even see the book through the thick layer of dust and grime on the glass, but it was as if someone had known she’d be here to see it. A circle had been wiped in the filth to reveal just a peek inside, and that’s where the book was set up against some other titles.
It was luck, wasn’t it?
Elle wandered over and used the sleeve of her coat to make the clean swirl a little bigger, and then pressed her head to the glass with her palm just above her eye. Yep, it was exactly what she thought. It even had a little wolf head etched, or burnt into the leather on the front just above the books title.

Elle wasn’t usually the careless type, but she was so, very curious. What harm would it be just to peek into the book store, and see how much that torn up old manuscript cost? It couldn’t be much, could it? Even if it was some kind of first addition, it was in very bad condition and well, she just had to have it.
Readjusting the little black purse across her middle and nervously tugging at a button at the center of her red pea coat, the blonde pushed open the dusty door and expected to hear the sound of a little bell above the door signifying a customer’s entrance.
But…there was no jingle, or and sound for that matter. It was ghostly quiet.

“Hello? Anybody Home?” Elle’s voice sounded strange echoing through the ancient shop, and she peeked back around at the sign hanging on the door to verify that it did, indeed say OPEN. She went in, and shut the door quietly behind her, trying once again to get the shop owners attention. “Hope you don’t mind if I look around…” Her voice was low, nearly a whisper. Why was she whispering?
The young woman cleared her throat and shook her head at the foolishness, drifting over to the window display where she’d seen the fairytale novel.

Pale fingers reached out for the tome, which she had just now discovered, much to her utter glee, that the title of the book was etched in shiny, metallic red ink. It was still in good shape and the binding could be fixed and it was perfect…

What was that sound?
Elle’s fingers lost the book, which landed with a light thud on the wooden display, and stirred a small cloud of dust from…God knew how long. Elle coughed delicately, and covered her mouth with a gasp, suddenly feeling strange about being in here, right now.
She shouldn’t be in here.
The sound came again. It was a slight scraping noise, followed by a thud, and then a whimper. That was most definitely a whimper. Elle sucked her breath in and then held it.
There it was again. Only…this time it was just a whimper. The blonde thought her heart was so loud, pounding in her ears, she wondered if whoever was there could hear it. Now knew she was there.

Maybe it was just a kitten. Yes, that must be what it was. It was just a kitten stuck somewhere amidst the shelves and it was her duty to help it. Kittens were so helpless and tiny things really.
These are the things the off-duty waitress was thinking in order to trick her mind into being braver than she really was. She repeated the mantra over and over in her mind as she whispered through the small shop, and finally found her palm around the old timey bronze doorknob. The scratching noise echoed from just on the other side of the door, and it sent shivers down her spine.
“Hello?” A squeak of a voice, really. What was she doing again? Oh yeah.
Twisting the knob the willowy blonde pushed it open and winced as it made a horribly loud and utterly clichéd creaking noise. Elle sighed and rolled her eyes. It figured.

“I’m…looking for my kitten.” Elle lied, and then really didn’t know why she had. It was just the first thing that came to mind while trying to peer into the dimply lit storage area.
God…why did it smell so rotten in here? Had the owner never heard of spring cleaning?!
She wrinkled her little upturned nose and used the cuff of her coat to cover it, moving further into the crowed space.
The whimper came again, and it made Elle quietly whimper, but she felt compelled now to find out if this was something or someone needing help; bless her heart.

And then she saw them. The girl couldn’t have been more than 5-6 years older than she, but it was really hard to tell since her chocolate hair was caught against her cheeks with something rusty colored and…oh…Elle gasped when she realized it could be blood. Her eyes were closed and her slender body was rag doll limp; the man moved her so easily.
The man. All Elle could remember about him was his eyes were cold and empty and he looked…normal. Not like you’d imagine someone that did the things he did would look. The curly headed blonde’s eyes widened and she tried to scream, but no sound came out save a soft moan. He was looking right at her.
Darn it. Where were her lungs when she needed them?

Elle tried the heavy bronze knob but it wouldn’t move; oh, wonderful. It was locked.
Her sapphire eyes darted back to the male and female just as she heard a horrible thud, and she realized there was a trap door opened and he must have thrown her down and oh, heavens, now he was moving towards her!
Whining in panic, the blonde darted sideways, passed a heaping shelf of books…things…
She weaved through the dimly lit room, but it was so small; save the trap door that led below, she reckoned there was no other way out besides the locked door.

Horrified, Elle’s eyes welled with tears and she imaged never seeing Curran’s smile, or wrapping herself in her adopted mother’s arms or blushing when Mr. Pettelli gave her a compliment.
These thoughts were transitory, for she was approaching the black hole where the other girl had been thrown but suddenly a sweaty palm was catching her wrist. Elle cried out, and tried to tug her arm away, but he had such a hold. It hurt. She believed he might be bruising her pale skin.

“Let go you…freak!” She said, feigning courageousness as she brought her other hand up to scratch at his eyes, his cheek, pinch his nose, whatever might save her.
The man cursed, let her go, but it was not exactly a victory. Her foot was slipping, her eyes and her body bound for the black hole. As she fell, the smell of decay and earth teased her nose and made her nauseous but that problem was quickly replaced with another, as she struck the dirt floor at an odd angle and the queasiness became a bolt of pain; a lightening strike through to her middle, and she struggled not to close her eyes and give into the blackness that seemed so, very tempting.
She was still alive, and maybe the girl was too. She had to get out of here. She had to find a way…a door…

He was coming. Hard, quick, heavy steps down the latter. Elle dragged herself somewhere, away from that sound.
More pain when his hands fisted in her hair and pulled her upwards, to him. There was something in his hands and the metallic title of the book caught her wide, searching gaze.
It said merely two words…FAIRY TALES, and it filled her with unexpected dread.

The man tightened his hands around her throat, and squeezed, and Elle struggled though the pain in her body was a bright, blinding light. She dug her crimson painted fingernails into the man’s taunt digits, stretched up to find the skin of his cheek. It did little to nothing as the darkness was gaining on her and her strength fading.
What could she do? She had never been that good an actress but it was worth a try?
Elle forced her body to spasm, kicking out limbs and arms, and lolling her tongue out until she went limp.
Oh please believe she was dead…

His hands loosened and she dropped face first into the dirt floor and her heart clenched, just a little in relief.
But there was a sound. Had he laughed? The man opened the story book and the sound that came out of it was like…it was like…a million cursed souls praying for release from hell. Elle shuddered, and everything was so very, very bright, and then it was dark.
It was dark.


It Was A Dark And Stormy Night...

God only knew how long she lay there; eyes clenched shut and breath held in and body stilled so the man would believe her as deceased.
But how curious that the room no longer felt humid, stinking. A slight breeze tickled her long, golden curls and she swore she heard the nighttime hoot of an owl above her.
She dared to pry her eye lids open, and let a staggered breath out as she found dried leaves clung to her arm, her hair.

The man was nowhere in sight. In fact, she was…where was she? In the middle of a forest? The full moon overhead? What on earth was she wearing?!
Elle compelled herself to sit up, and moaned as the pain in her side flared with a rekindled flame. Her brow furrowed as the shimmering, silken ruby cloak fell away from her shoulder. Her fingers lifted to touch the cloth slid over her curls, and she gasped, in wonder at how real it all felt.

Was this a dream? Or was she….dead? Elle pulled the cloak tighter around her and shivered as the wailing wind moved the trees, which creaked, and groaned, and sounded just horrifying.

And then she heard a howl.



wearing
The words: 2,211
The lyrics: Little Red Riding Hood by The Brothers Grimm

[Curran Aiden Pettelli]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

For what must have easily been rounding the hundredth time, Curran glanced down at the small black phone in his hand, and turned, scanning the road for any sign of the bouncing blonde he knew so well, of the girl he loved and whom he longed to see. Of the girlfriend he was beginning to worry about. So far there was no sign of her, not even a hint of the perfume she wore lingering on the breeze, blowing in from either direction, not the tell tale sound of her shoes whom he had long since learnt to distinguish from all others.

Where was she?

Elle should have met him here an hour ago, and the coffee he had bought them both had long since gone cold, forgotten about on the small bench he had, until recently, been sitting on. Once more he tapped a few keys on his phone, pressed it to his ear and longed to hear her voice on the end, babbling because she had lost track of the time in a bookstore, a kitchen store – right now he would settle for the excuse that she had been looking at goodamn shoes just as long as she answered. But the wolf-boy was to have no such luck as once more it rung out to her answer phone. He listened to the message and left another, the next in a number he had no desire to count, for he listened only to hear her voice.

A low growl erupted from his throat and Curran grabbed his bag slinging it over his shoulder before stalking out into the path. He paid little notice of the people passing him, scanning the crowds for only the blonde curls he knew so well. Today had started off as such a good day as well, rising with the sun to hit the gym and the range before Elle had awoke, spending the day in the shop together and simply enjoying each others company. They were days the young man had grown to love, days when they didn’t have to talk to each other constantly, where they could simply revel in each others presence without feeling the need to fill it with talking in the same way those who venturing out early into a relationship would.

For a wild moment, as he headed up and along the high street, Currans thoughts drifted to his sister, the sibling whom he had not seen in nearly two years. Had she somehow got hold of Elle, returned without his knowledge to simply toy with him? With these thoughts Currans pace quickened to the point here he was nearly jogging down the street, his chest tightening ith the idea that somehow she might be hurt...

No.

He forced himself to slow down, to take a deep breath and think about this rationally – the chances of Syrelli being back with slim. The chances of Elle being anything but safe were slimmer. Now, the chance she had become sidetracked by a shop, something small and kitsch and had lost track of the time – that her battery had died or she had no signal, that she was indeed perfectly fine. Well, those were significantly higher, and thus significantly more likely.

Walking once more, Curran lifted a hand to his mouth and chewed on the skin around his nails, a habit he had harboured for as long as he could remember, though one he divulged in only when his mind was elsewhere, when he was truly trying to focus on something other than what he was doing. Right now he was trying to find her scent, the tell tale lingering of her perfume, and as he concentrated his eyes gained the flecks of amber Elle would recognise as the stirring of his wolf in his chest.

It took the young man nearly an hour, but eventually, finally, he found what he was looking for, lingering outside a shop that looked practically abandoned. Frowning, he peered into the shop through the circle of clear glass and spotted the thing that would have surely lead for Elle to enter such a place. The old volume labelled red riding hood – her favourite fairytale.

He couldn’t help but grin at his girlfriends predictability and pushed open the shop door, casting around in the gloom for the owner and frowning at the unsightly and disorganised manner in which this small book shop was kept. Having Worked on one all his life, he immediately began noticing the ways in which the filing system could be improved. It was in Currans nature to notice the small things, the things that others did not, that most people would simply walk past and ignore, and as such he noticed the fingerprints on the volumes otherwise dusty cover, the patches of dust that had been wiped away by fabric – the tail of a coat or the brush of a hip.

Frowning, he called out, the creases between his dark eyebrows growing deeper when he did not receive his answer. Walking around he breathed in, coughing on the dust that seemed to hang perpetually in the air. Curran felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as he paced; something about this place was not right, some smell or minute sound that were putting him on edge. Something he was yet to put his finger on.

He had walked the length of one of the bookcases and back again when he spotted it. Bending down, he picked up the little black purse and frowned, studying the leather. Zipping it open, he fund Elle’s purse and growled, his eyes darkening and growing wide as he glanced about, his heart pounding in his ears. Elle had been here, in this shop, and she would not have left without her purse, nor would she ignore his yell, his phone call. Something was very, very wrong.

Something creaked behind him and Curran stood spinning on his feet and growling. His reactions however were too late, as something hit him hard on the temple. Swallowing, he stumbled, and fall into darkness.

When he awoke, it was with the stark realisation that the world was monotonous, that the colours were dulled. He blinked, and tried to rub at his eyes, but instead of balled up fists Curran found himself to have paws. Jumping to his feet, no, to his paws, he ran in a circle and growled loudly, recalling what had happened, and searching out his assailant. To have transformed, his unconscious must have taken over in the presence of danger, the same way that once dead, a loupe will always return to its human form. But Curran found nothing save trees and grass, the undergrowth he associated with the forest.

What the frick?

A forest? What the hell had happened to the bookstore, the glimpse of blonde he had caught from the corner of his eye? Curran whimpered as he looked around, a noise of distress. Where was Elle? His head hurt from where he had been hit, and he did not appreciate being dumped in the middle of the forest. Growling now, he sat back on his haunches and glanced about, looking for something, a small clue, that would show him where to go, how to get out of here, for this was no forest he recognised.

The wind changed direction, and Curran caught on the small breeze a scent that made his heart leap. If nothing else, she was here. Raising his muzzle to the sky, Curran let out a long, piercing howl, and started in the direction of her scent, his ears pressed flat against his head as the undergrowth passed by him in a blur of grey and black – colours muted by his wolfen eyes.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[Elle Nora Taylor]

Elle was trembling. She was terrified. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there from the stinking basement she’d been in not moments before, or if the horrible man was somewhere out there too; stalking her.
The thought made the pale blonde shudder, and she made a circle; her sapphire eyes scanning the dark wood for a light or something that would guide her in the direction of safety.
The moon hung fat and low in the midnight sky, but instead of the comforting silver glow she was used to, it cast an eerie insipid light over the black forest; as if stealing the color from it.
Where were the twinkling stars? Why were the colors gone save the brilliant ruby of her hooded cloak? And what of that cloak? The dingy dress that had replaced her boots and jeans? Elle lifted the long white dress at the skirt, looking curiously at the little black peasant shoes on her feet.

This had to be a dream. What else could explain this?
No…no, the pain in Elle’s side was a reminder that she was very much alive. The willowy blonde winced and bent a little, pushing her palm against the rib that most definitely felt like it was broken. A cry escaped from her lips at the flare of fire there, and she gently wrapped her arm around herself as if to keep herself from falling apart.

Unbidden, her feet began moving, and suddenly the underside of her cloth shoes were damp like the ground. She was running…running…running. Tree limbs reached out for her like skeletal hands; gnarled fingers whipped at the tender skin of her pale cheeks and at times Elle felt the sting as a wiry stem scratched her face; soon followed by a warm trickle of crimson moisture down her alabaster face.
The scarlet moisture was washed away by salty tears. The girl had begun crying silently as she ran; fearing for her life, fearing she would never see Curran again, fearing that the man was out there and what he might do to her if he found her. There were terrible noises all around her. The hooting of an owl somewhere above wasn’t at all curious and beautiful like it normally was; it sounded accusing, as if she were an invader here. Elle very much felt like an invader.
The wintery wind shrilling through the trees sounded like a banshee’s shriek and it made the blonde run faster; to nowhere.

And then there was that sound that seemed to tug on her heart as if it were bound by a slender sliver chain. Her feet paused and she nearly lost her balance from the sudden lack of momentum. Elle knew that sound. It was the only sound that could have replaced the grim dread inside her with hope; warmth.
’Curran…” Her breath shuddered out and a whimper followed, and she clung to the cloak with a shaking palm as she grew still, trying to figure out where the howl had come from. There…there is was again. Once again that chain around her heart was pulled and so where her feet; for suddenly she was running again, towards the sound that filled her so completely with happiness despite the ache in her side.

She might have been running for minutes, or hours; all was a blur of black and grey until her eyes landed in the wide, moon lit amber of the massive silver wolfs. The creature was large and daunting…and absolutely beautiful. Elle cried out in relief and wonder and flung herself at the animal, winding her arms around his neck and burying her face in the silver pelt as she surrendered to the fear and grief that had plagued her only minutes prior. The tears that had been silently streaming became a thunderstorm.
The girl wasn’t sure how long Curran let her sob against him, but when she finally pulled back Elle felt as if the weight of all those tears had been drained; and her wits returned.

“Curran…” The blonde wiped across her cheek with the back of her hand and snorted back the trickle trying to escape her nose. “What’s happening? Where are we?”
She sat back on her heels and pulled the cape across her knees, lifting porcelain fingertips to a patch of crimson staining his otherwise perfect silvery fur. “Are you okay? Oh my gosh…”

Her fingers began trembling again and she shook her head, desperate to see the easy smile that would still the tremors in her belly. She brought her fingers to her lips and her blue eyes darted around them; wide, confused. “Baby…there was a man….a girl.” Elle’s face was full of distraction when she turned back to her fur covered boyfriend and she absently winced and wrapped her arm around her ribs again. “We have to find her. She might still be alive…”
And her gaze reluctantly left his calming tawny one to look up into the heavens; the full moon. “You can’t change back can you?”



wearing
The words: 2,211
The lyrics: Little Red Riding Hood by The Brothers Grimm

[Curran Aiden Pettelli]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Curran paid no attention to the blur of trees as they passed him, but as was his very nature he knew the small things as they passed him – the sound of a small rive, the complete lack of other animals in this damn forest, and the small fact that he was not anywhere he knew. He did not know this forest, which given his packs ways, the fact that they never ran in the same place consecutively, meant that he, and Elle, were a very, very long way from home.

With a low growl as he leapt over a fallen log, Curran skitted to the left and howled once more, baying at a moon he did not recognize. It was too round, too perfect, and it was too close – yet it still held the same power over him. He body still refused to turn back, to become human... but even at home he could still force himself into it. It hurt like hell, and it could drive you crazy, but here. It wasn’t working. And it scared him. But not half as much as knowing that Elle was here too. That thought – that was truly terrifying.

It took too long for him to reach her, to make her out in the distance, and longer still before she finally reached him, before she was there with her arms around his neck. Her growled softly, leaning his head around in an attempt to hug her back, though he longed to reach around and hug her, to kiss away the tears on her cheeks and carry her away from this place that was so obviously terrifying to them both.

When she finally pulled away the scruff of his neck was a little damp, but he didn’t care, simply shuffled his paws and whined a little at his own inability to answer her questions. He shook his head at her questions, no, he was fine, just a bump... no, he couldn’t turn back. Damn this place. Damn this world. Damn this moon at her power over him, a power unfamiliar and terrifying. Here, Curran felt almost like he’d NEVER be able to turn back.

Taking a step forward, Curran slipped his head through her arm and nuzzled her side gently, worried about her wincing. Was she ok? He longed to ask, to find out who he had to beat up that caused her this pain – who he had to kill to get them out of here. He felt a rage in his chest he wasn’t used too, one that was slowly burning through his veins and into his limbs as he growled softly again.

Slipping from her arm, he took a few step forward, turning his head and waiting for her to follow. Another girl? Perhaps that was this other smell on the wind, another perfume he didn’t recognise.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[Elle Nora Taylor]

At the realization that Curran could not return to his human form, Elle’s knees began to tremble. The knowledge that he could not hold her in his comforting arms, nor with his sapphire gaze chased all the courage from the blonde; her nerve ran away much like a frightened child, and save the knowledge that there was another girl out there; possibly dying if not passed already, she would have done just that. Fled this horrible dark wood until she came to her modest hotel room to pull the covers over her head and lick her wounds while she hid away from the world.

The young woman sniffled, and she wiped at her nose with the back of her delicate alabaster hand and steeled her legs before they could give way. She straightened her shoulders and shoved her palm into her eyes to stop the flow of salty moisture leaking from them and forced a valor that did not meet her empty stare. Weeping and hiding and hurting could wait. Her conscience would not allow her a moment of weakness, nor could her heart. That girl would not agonize alone in this dreadful place, not if she could help it.

Nodding in understanding the willowy female sniffled and charged after her boyfriend the wolf, ignoring for the moment the way her insides felt as if they were slipping through some invisible crack in her side. Each step was a little pin prick of pain, which then radiated deeper as if the syringe had been compressed and liquid torture ejected into her. Elle shook her golden ringlets as if to dismiss the pain, focusing instead on the paw prints Curran made in the ground before her as well as the events that had led up to their situation.

“This doesn’t make sense…” Elle prattled and swiftened her pace in order to catch up with the large silver wolf, settling a hand in the silken pelt at his side. She did not clutch the fur like a rein but merely left her palm flat against the muscle, letting the fluid movements of the great beast move her own feet in case she forgot to do so while she pondered their circumstances. “This place is so far from the city I can’t hear any traffic…but the book shop was right in the thick of it. The hole in the floor…I wonder if it was some kind of portal.” The blonde’s brow furrowed as her cobalt eyes went somewhere else; some inward movie theater where the scene with the horrible man replayed on some mental screen. “Wait…the book, the sound of the pages…I remember…”

The off-duty waitress pinched her eyes closed and paused; remembering the miserable wails that had escaped that book just before she had awakened in this dark and storming woodland. “What if it was the book, Curran?” She turned her far-away look to the wide amber orbs set into the canine face and suddenly they became lucid. “If there are such things as Loup Garoux then certainly things like curses and hell mouths exist.”

Elle dragged her tongue across her lips and tugged the red cloak tighter around her as a gust of wintery wind moved her blonde curls. “If this is real…if he is some kind of…some kind of witch or something we have got to find that girl and get out of here before he decides to read his book to a lot of other kids.”

She trudged ahead, taking the lead for a moment. “There’s got to be something out here. A house or…something…” Marching headfirst into the shadowy foliage Elle didn’t hear the sound of grunting or the hard, heavy footsteps until it was too late. With a gasp, a large metal, rust stained object flew at her head, and she ducked before it made contact with her neck, instead burying itself into the trunk of an ancient tree.

The young woman spun towards the right, her wide horrified stare landing on the form of a very bulky and very angry looking man wearing a bloody white KKK and charging toward them like a bull.
She was in no mood to find out if that blood was his or something he had just hunted down and killed, and she had no time to worry about where her feet decided to take her.
Flying in the opposite direction from the terrifying ‘hunter’, Elle caught Curran’s moonlit ocher eyes just as the blood-curdling scream left her ruby lips. “Ruuuunnnnnn!”



wearing
The words: 2,211
The lyrics: Little Red Riding Hood by The Brothers Grimm
Notes: The hunter! -- and check yo Pm bebeh!

[Curran Aiden Pettelli]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Despite constantly trying, despite willing himself to change back, Curran body refused to obey him – this coupled with the small fact he had no real way of communicating with Elle, no way of reassuring her, and it was irritating the silver furred wolf to the point of frustration. He was walking a little quicker than he probably needed too, and all the unfamiliar scents on the wind had his hackles permanently raised, a low growl rumbling intermittently from his deep chest.

To say that Curran was uncomfortable in this forest was an understatement, and Elle’s hand on his neck was doing little to subdue his agitation. He felt pent up, wired, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings sending adrenaline pumping through his blood stream, and quite strangely for the boy, he wanted to fight something. Anything, and as such he was only half listening to Elle’s words as his amber eyes scanned the monotonous foliage around him, altered before his wolf form in a way no Human would ever see.

He paused as Elle moved ahead and flattened his ears against his head as his gums drew back from his teeth in a snarl – there was something funny on the wind, something his wolf reacted too defensively. Not to soon either, as... something came running from the woods. An entirely animalistic snarl erupted from his throat as Elle screamed, and whilst she ran he launched himself at this... thing? A hunter? Whatever it was it was not like anything he had ever seen, and its scent was entirely NOT human.

Sinking his teeth into its shoulder, Curran hung on long enough to give Elle a head start, raking its skin with his claws even as it lashed out with fists, hitting his sides and head. He let go only once he couldn’t see her anymore, dropping back to the ground on all flours and taking off into the woods after her he son caught up, nudging her with his side. He urged her to run faster, circling around them and doubling back in case it followed. He wasn’t sure how long they ran – seconds seemed like hours and minutes mere seconds in this warped place, but the sight of a small cottage in the distance was a welcoming vision, and he spurred her towards it.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[Elle Nora Taylor]

Elle ran like she never had before. Hair whipping wildly across her cheeks and breath escaping in puffs of vapor as she went, the willowy blonde tried to focus on the path before her instead of the fact that Curran, despite her plea, had run towards the horrifying man with the extra-large sized axe.
She had to keep in mind that though he was as gentle as a teddy bear with her, the wolf was great and just as fierce as the hunter. So she didn’t look back. Curran could handle it, he could handle anything.

Elle tried to keep that on the forefront of her mind as she darted through the eerie black woods toward no where in particular save away from the monster. They were in a very dense part of the forest, and the trees seemed to have begun closing in on them; ominous black things with reaching arms. Fingerling branches caught the long crimson cloak and occasionally her cheek or arm so that a scarlet tear fell down her face from a tiny nick amidst the alabaster. It mixed with the crystalline ones that had begun escaping now that she was lost in impulse; the perfectly reasonable desire to live, the survival instinct.
Once again running, running, running like the wind carried her delicate black slippers; Elle didn’t even breathe until the large majestic wolf that was her boyfriend appeared at her side. Only then did she release a loud sigh of liberation, though the lithe blonde didn’t slow her pace one bit.

Just when the girl had nearly lost all hope that there was anything in this horrid wood than threatening trees and glowy, blinking eyeballs in the darkness, the smell of baking cookies tickled her nose just before a dainty, albeit crumbling cottage manifested in the distance. Apparently Curran had seen it as well; nudging the backs of Elle’s legs with his snout and urging her to run a little faster.
By the time they approached the modest bungalow the off-duty waitress felt a dull pang in the pit of her stomach. Sure, it looked like an ordinary little old house, but considering it was in the middle of the weirdo woodland, the girl was positive there was something not quite right about it.

“I dunno…” She paused with her hand just on the doorknob, glancing back at Curran with a worried expression on her usually serene visage. “What if it belongs to that…that…thing out there?” Elle put extra emphasis on the word ‘thing’ because man or not, the individual that had thrown a big ole axe at her head wasn’t perfectly normal. And what other option did they have, really? Chewing on her bottom lip, Elle blinked and looked past her furry boyfriend in order to inspect the darkness behind him. Maybe it was his home and maybe it wasn’t, either way, once inside they could hole themselves up while they came up with a plan. At least until sunrise...that is if sunrise ever came to this god-forsaken place.

Elle gasped when under her trembling palm the knob began to jiggle, and she leapt back when the door swung open to reveal an elderly woman holding a tray of baked goods.
“My stars I thought I heard a voice out there. Bless your heart, come in, come in.” The old woman was squinting as if she wasn’t wearing her glasses and couldn’t make them out very well, and side-stepped to allow them entrance. “Its been so long since we’ve had company here, please, sit, get out of the chilly night air for a spell…”
The old maid chuckled, and the sound rose goosebumps on Elle’s skin. “Your dog can come in too. I’ve just baked cookies!”

Hesitant, Elle lifted her shoulders towards the wolf in a dainty shrug and drifted into the house. It was brighter than the exterior, thank goodness, with doilies on the coffee table and a homemade quilt thrown over the little Victorian sofa, and other knick-knacks that made it appear as it should. And it smelled like a pastry shop, which made Elle’s stomach growl.
Obviously the old woman’s hearing was better than her eyesight because she heard the tummy protest. “Oh, my! You’re famished. Here…have a scone.”

And the old woman held out a powered sugar covered biscuit with blueberries fairly bursting out of the dough. Elle didn’t want to be rude. She reached her shaking hand out for it and plucked one from the silver tray. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed demurely before parting her ruby lips and sticking her tongue out just a little. Barely putting that moist mouthy organ on the biscuit, Elle smiled when it tasted just like the ones she made. So maybe the old woman looked just about as portentous as the KKK hunter outside, but anyone that could bake like that had to be decent, right?




wearing
The words: 817
The lyrics: Little Red Riding Hood by The Brothers Grimm
Notes: the cottage | 'Grandma'

[Curran Aiden Pettelli]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Curran snorted, expressing air through the soft velvet of his darkened nose and out into the woodland. As far as the silver furred wolf could tell the pair had little choice other than this small cottage that smelt of cookies and other baked goods. It was either risk the little protection this isolated cottage could offer, or risk themselves in the woods, with the hunter and his large axe, and Curran did not much fancy the options that lay in wait behind curtain number two. He did not much like hunters, be they off the normal gun toting persuasion, or those that seemed to lurk within this demented forest, intent of stealing the two of their hard earned lives.

Pressing the bulk of his body against Elle’s legs, the wolf offered what little comfort his touch could provide until morning came and he could shift once more back to the flesh he most often wore and offer solace in words and smiles rather than just touch alone. But like Elle had thought, they were yet to know if sunrise would ever come in this godforsaken place where the moon was too big and the night to dark, the constellations were all wrong as if simply drawn into the sky by a child’s hand.

His fur stood on end when the door opened and Currans tail bushed out behind him as his gums peeled back from the white of his teeth in a low snarl. He did not like the way the people here continued to surprise him, that their smell did not come before them like they did in their own world – for surely as Curran as beginning to believe, this was never their world was never the place where they had been born into. Everything here was wrong, the smells, the sights, all were misshaped and disorientated, and it threw the wolf’s mind into a spiral it was hard to crawl back from.

All but ready to turn tale and flee, to risk their chances against the hunter and his axe, the decision was taking from Curran’s paws as Elle slipped inside. Despite the invitation, the wolf paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder and scanning the foliage of this forest, committing it to memory and looking once more for signs of pursuit. But no. Not even the wind stirred these leaves, these fake looking branches bent into shapes meant solely to scare and haunt.

With another exhalation of air, Curran flexed his paws in the dirt once more and left it, slipping past the old woman and into the small dilapidated cottage to sit at Elle’s feet, watching the old woman and her tray of scones.

Whilst Elle chatted and ate, the wolf stood as if on guard, putting himself between her and the old woman whose nature was too sweet for the canines taste. No one was inviting as his woman without having ulterior motives, and though Elle could dismiss the old woman’s appearance it was Curran who took in the small details as his nature allowed him too. Beneath the smell of scones and pastry lay the taint of rot and death – it lingered beneath the very floorboards and clung to the old woman’s skin like a bad perfume It was enough to make the wolf snarl every time she ventured close, his hackles rising as he lowered his head between his shoulders.

He was beginning to think that this itself was a very, very bad idea.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[Elle Nora Taylor]

Elle was so very, very trusting. Gullible, even. It wasn’t as if she had completely forgotten about the man and the girl…the thing outside chasing them, the dark, horrible woodlands waiting outside as if to eat them up. She was just so easily distracted. The little old woman was lonely, Elle was a young girl who had never known her grandmother, and the scones were delicious! But yes, the woods truly -were- waiting to gobble them up. The very night was a monster, and little did Curran and the guileless blonde know, they were already in the belly of the beast.

The old woman chatting about nothing and everything, and Elle absently nibbled at the scone until it was completely gone and then negligently reached for another, smiling around the sugary biscuit and nodding when she felt it was appropriate. Curran stood before her as a magnificent pelt-covered guardian, and the girl’s hand often found itself feeling the velvet on the back of his neck; the large, perky ears.
When Elle drifted behind the woman around from room to room as she showed off her knicks and knacks, the wolf followed, and the willowy blonde smiled at the comforting sound of the click of his claws against the hardwood floor. Curran huffed and Elle quietly laughed, turning around to give him a chiding look even though his warnings were greatly warranted. Elle was starting to feel a bit too relaxed, but once again, the scones were scrumptious.

A demure yawn escaped her parted lips and Elle blushed, and the old woman had stopped in front of a wall of pictures; most odd and out of focus; they might have been creepy even, but the blonde was starting to feel too out of it to notice.
She was babbling something about her son, and how there weren’t enough nice girls around the woods and how pretty Elle was with her ringlets and her red, red cape. Oh, how her son would enjoy it if Elle would take him a basket of goodies, wouldn’t that be very nice?

Elle frowned, putting a hand to her forehead and suddenly feeling very tired. What was the lady going on about? “No…I have a boyfriend. Curran. He’s here.” Elle gestured back to the wolf but the old woman wasn’t listening, she was wiping her glasses on her apron. Oh, goodness was that blood on her apron or jam? Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
The girl lifted her drooping sapphire gaze to one hanging picture; this one a little more focused than before. The large gangly male was absent the white mask but the butcher’s apron was the same stained and soiled thing. Oh…no…

Elle’s gaze grew horrified as her drugged mind slowly worked out the details. The monster outside was the old lady’s son and she fancied Elle as some sort of companion. No. Freakin’. Way.
Gasping, the blonde put her hand to her lips to staunch the horror-struck outburst and turned toward Curran wishing that the art of mind-reading was one of a Loup Garoux’s special magical powers. Could he hear what the woman was going on about? Had he seen the picture too?

A loud banging on the door made Elle jump ten feet in the air. Her heart beat frantically and she immediately knew who was doing the angry knocking. The hunter.

“And there my boy is now.” The old woman crooned and took a hold of Elle’s arm. “You should lie down and rest, Dearie. You can meet him properly after your nap.”
Elle’s head shook from side to side in negation, but she felt too sluggish to pull away from the gnarled fingers.

Her wide eyes went to Curran’s large amber ones, and just as they did the old woman spoke again. “I’ll just put your dog outside for a while. I’ve got some animals out back that would love a new play toy.”
The menace in her voice couldn’t be hidden by the fake saccharine inflection. Elle’s heart clenched for her boyfriend and she got a second wind.

“Curran!” She shrieked and tugged her arm away, fleeing away from the stunned lady. There had to be another way out, but no way she was going anywhere near the ‘animals out back’ previously mentioned. Elle’s cobalt eyes darted around wildly as she dashed down the hall, back towards the sound of the pounding and a kitchen off to the side she thought she remembered seeing before. She knew that the wolf would be just behind her, if he hadn’t seen fit to take a chomp out of the mean old lady that had drugged her scones. They really did have bigger problems at the moment. The angry man outside was getting more and more aggressive and the wood was beginning to bend in the middle.

Ah! Eureka! Elle spotted the smallish room with white moonlight streaming in through the windows and could have twirled had she not feared for her life. Maybe there was a door in there or at least a big knife to use. She stopped right in the middle of the cramped space, her gaze taking in every horrible detail around them. Oh…goodness. That wasn’t really a dismembered finger sitting on the counter was it? What was boiling over in that big pot? Gracious, it reeked! She grabbed a knife out of the holder beside the stinking pot of goo and turned out, eyes watering.

Hand to her mouth to staunch the scone trying to make a reappearance, Elle scurried to the corner of the room and dropped to her knees, at a cellar door within the old wooden floor. Didn’t cellars usually have another entrance from outside in the ground? If they were used for storms or storage most times they did. The off-duty waitress prayed she was right this time.

Dusting the dirt off the metal latch she panicked at the louder sound of banging and hated the way the drugs were making her ears ring and her sight blurry. With a groan Elle pulled the trap door up and looked back for her boyfriend, calling out though she couldn’t well make out what was even right before her face. “Down here!”
She dropped down, into the darkness and landed on her side. Fire erupted beneath the pale skin and she couldn’t move, stunned by the pain as much as the intoxicants working through her blood.

Where was Curran? Was he alright? What was that scratching and whimpering coming from the corner of the dark basement?




wearing
The words: 1092
The lyrics: Little Red Riding Hood by The Brothers Grimm
Notes: the cottage | 'Grandma'

[Curran Aiden Pettelli]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Uncomfortable was not a word that suitably explained the way Curran felt being in this house, did not do justice to the wolfs tension or his need to be back outside in the forest, away from the foul smells and the old woman with evil behind her eyes. But, as long as Elle remained here, the wolf was not about to leave her. Even if the girl with the blonde ringlets wasn’t his girlfriend, even if she wasn’t a friend but a stranger he had met upon awakening in this forest, there would have been little chance of Curran leaving her side, to defend herself against the terrors of the night, new even to one of the nights oldest terrors. It was not in his nature to abandon someone to their fate and besides – Elle was pack. And pack did not abandon each other to their fate.

So Curran padded along beside her , pressed close against her side and always keeping himself between the two, peeling his gums back from his teeth whenever she glanced at him. Elle might not see the danger here, see nothing but the scones, but with no way of telling her, it was all the wolf could do but push his way between them and keep as much distance from her as they could. When Elle finally saw the picture and the images connected in her mind, the wolf could have howled, mingled with the small human voice in the back of his mind yelling in triumph.

When the banging on the door started Currans ears flattened against his head as it fell in line with his shoulders. His tailed fluffed out behind him as he bared his teeth in a snarl worthy of the nightmarish tales and stories that were so often attached to his kind. It was easy perhaps to forget that beneath his easy going demeanour, Curran was still an animal, a wolf, and he and his pack were being threatened. It was easy to forget that when it came to the Pack, when it came to those people he classed as family, who held places within the wolfs heart, Curran would, and could Kill to protect them.

It seemed this old woman and her son where about to learn the hard way just what that meant.

As the woman reached out her hand towards his head Curran snarled and bit at her hand, his teeth clashing together as his eyes lit up with his animalistic nature. Curran was once again letting the wolf take over as he receded into the background, the same as he did when he went for a run, surrendering control to the animal. As Elle ran, Curran followed, darting around the bulging door as son tried to get inside, but he stopped once Elle had ran into a seemingly closed off room, turning and blocking the doorway. They were not going to get past him, no way and no how.

Squaring his shoulders, the wolf dropped his head between them, ears flat against his head as he let out a low grumbling growl from his chest, pulling his lips back from his large teeth.

Why grandma. What big teeth you have.

As the old woman came towards him, Curran shuffled his feet, tensing the muscles in his back legs and snapping at the old woman every time she tried to get past him, snatching her apron between his jaws and shredding the foul tasting, bloodied material. She would soon learn that he was no dog, no house pet. A mere dog would have nothing to do with him, would come nowhere near a loupe garoux in their true form. No domesticated animal was stupid enough to risk trespassing on that territory.

They danced like this until the door burst open with a loud enough crash to make even Curran flinch enough for the old woman to hit across the shoulder with one her many, horrid porcelain features. Yelping, he jumped to the side, out of the doorway and further into the kitchen. Snarling, he leapt for the old woman’s throat, wrapping his jaws around her throat and shaking his head as she fell backwards. A wolfs jaw could bite through bone – her neck was nothing to Currans teeth, to his anger and to his pain and he released her only when he felt her blood gush into his mouth and down his throat, when she stopped clawing at her fingers. It was foul, stinking, but now he turned on the son as it dripped from his maw and stained his fur. His posture said it all. You’re next.

But Curran had forgotten all about the axe, and the rage that accompanied the death of a loved one. He roared, lifting the great weapon above his head and Curran backed up into the... what was it? a kitchen? Either way it was like something from Clive Barker’s nightmare, and the stench was enough to make the wolf shake his head and sneeze as he backed up onto the trapdoor he knew Elle was hiding beneath. He was not having her. Over his dead body.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •