Little Red

Sister Agnes walked into the room where the children were sleeping, checking each of them one by one in the dim candlelight. Every night she wandered through the grand hall that was strewn and littered with cots, trying to ensure that the orphans were washed, had brushed their teeth, and said their prayers. For the most part, she considered it a tedious job given how many of these forgotten ones there were, but she tried to put the boredom of this nightly ritual out of her mind. She knew that she needed to focus on her work. Truth be told these children were the only thing keeping her and the other workers of the soup kitchen going. Without the little orphans here and the others before them, the Sacred Heart would have perished long ago. Since the Blast, which had literally turned the soil to poison, there was little that could be grown. In fact, hardly anything had survived at all. She knew that they needed these children to sustain the work. It was as simple as that.

As Sister Agnes was attending one of the toddlers, she heard a noise from the far cot. Instinctively, she turned. In the darkness, she caught glimpse of a shadow sitting halfway up. She knew that one of the children was probably restless, so she grabbed the candle and walked towards the end of the room. One of the older children, Emily, was half-perched up in her bed.

“Sister,” Emily whispered. “I can’t sleep.”

Agnes smiled as she set the candle down on the end table near the bed. The flickering candlelight danced around Emily’s head, casting shadows against the peeling plaster. In the pale light, Sister Agnes saw the soft face of the child, how lovely she was, with her carrot-colored hair resting on her cheek. The night smock hung from her shoulders, embracing her petite body. The child had been brought to the orphanage years before, left on the steps in a basket. Over the years, Sister Agnes had grown quite fond of her.

“What’s wrong my child?”

“I don’t know. Just bad dreams.”

Sister Agnes nodded reassuringly. “Dreaming about the monster again?” she asked.

Emily nodded.

“Well.” Agnes continued. “Remember, the reason I told you that bedtime story is because it is true. Outside of this room, the monsters live and breathe and have their being. You must never venture away from your cot or outside of this room, ever. And anyway, you have everything you need right here.”

Emily shook her head. “That’s not true. I think you just made everything up is all.”

Sister Agnes shrugged her shoulders, as she reached for the candle. “If that is what you believe than who am I to tell you different?”

The little girl persisted. “I just don’t know what to think. It is keeping me awake at night. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Now, now child.” The sister breathed a quiet laugh. “You mustn’t fret. Everything will be all right. If I tell you the story again, will you promise to lay down and get some sleep?”

The orphan nodded.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red, and she lived in a cottage in the woods. She was quite happy living there I must tell you. Now the cottage where she lived was very safe and secure. The whole house was well built and sturdy, so that none of the monsters who inhabited the woods could ever break in and get to her. The walls of the cottage protected her, like here in the shelter.”

Agnes paused, but Emily didn’t nod as she had expected her to. The child wasn’t saying or doing anything. The orphan just sat there staring back at her.

“Well,” Agnes continued. “Where was I? Oh yes, Little Red lived in the cottage. And there she lived, growing and eating and getting plump, a lot like you.”

This time, Emily smiled.

Her reaction spurred Agnes to keep telling the story. “And in this cottage, she had everything she needed. A vast library with books to read to pass the time. A stocked pantry with canned goods and all kinds of meat. Foods she could make soup and meat pies with. She lacked for nothing. She had all she needed to stay healthy and grow up strong.”

“Where was her family?” Emily asked, interrupting.

Agnes frowned at the question. “Well, I guess her parents and siblings had ventured out of the cottage at one time or another and the monsters had eaten them.”

“Really?” Emily doubted it. She started shaking her head. “That’s not true at all.”

“No?”

“No!” Emily stammered. Without missing a beat, she kept going. Her eyes lit up, as she began to tell her own version of the bedtime story. “I think … that she heard voices outside the windows, mumbles and grumblings, really. Now, Little Red didn’t really know what these sounds were, but she knew that they were definitely voices. She also knew that she had to find out the truth.

“So, Little Red began to think and think and think.” Emily put her little hand under her chin, giving Agnes a puzzled look.

“What should I do? She thought. I am sitting inside this cottage with everything I need. I have all the food I want. I have books to read. I have medicine even.”

Sister Agnes didn’t dare interrupt. She couldn’t.

The orphan started up again. “So, Little Red thought to herself that she needed to help the voices. After all, she had plenty to share. So, she loaded a basket with goodies, opened the door to the cottage, expecting to find ugly hideous monsters waiting to gobble her up just like she had been told.”

“Is that what she found? I imagine she was very scared to open the door.” Sister Agnes countered.

Emily bobbed her head. “Oh, she was. She was very scared. But she had courage. She was stronger than anyone could have imagined. She opened the door, anyway. And there all of a sudden, what she saw really surprised her. Instead of big, hairy monsters, she found a line of people just like her, every one of them needing help. Needing something to eat.”

“What did she do?”

“That’s simple.” Emily paused. “The same thing we ought to do here.”

Sister Agnes gave the child a forceful stare. “Emily, have you been peeking out through the cracks in the window again?”

“Yes, ‘m”

“Why would you do that child? How many times have I warned you not to do exactly that very thing?”

“Lots.” The child’s eyes began to water. “I didn’t mean to, honest!”

Agnes and the orphan stayed silent for a moment. In the dim light, Sister Agnes could see Emily hanging her head down.

“We will talk about your punishment in the morning.”

“Yes, sister.”

“Promise me, you will stay away from the shutters. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

With that statement, Sister Agnes grabbed the candle, turned away and began walking toward the darkness of the doorway. “Get some sleep, dear.” She called over her shoulder. She glimpsed the child lying back down, pulling the blanket up toward her head.

As soon as she was outside the room, she grabbed the key out of her pocket. Shakily, she inserted it into the lock and turned it counterclockwise. The deadbolt clicked as it settled into place. She decided that she needed to keep the conversation with Emily to herself. As she began to step down the hallway, she raised her head to see Mother Superior was standing there, pausing by her side. She had not even seen the old woman when she come from the room.

“You handled that poorly.” Mother Superior chided. “You should have corrected the story the minute you heard her utter the very words. We must keep them obedient to what we tell them.”

“But she knows.” Sister Agnes protested.

Mother Superior’s face became even more stern. Her eyes piercing with a laser like focus. “I want you to notify Bertrand that he will be serving some extra meat in the soup line in the morning. Have him make something, …. I don’t know, ….surprising, special even. Then, go get the security guards to fetch the little one and instruct them take the little girl to him right away.”

The old woman paused. “In the morning, you can tell the other children that Emily has graduated and surrendered her life as a sacrifice to the work we are doing here. Is that clear?”

Sister Agnes nodded.

“Can I count on you to do this, Agnes?”

Again, a nod.

And then Mother Superior continued her walk down the hallway. In the flickering firelight of the torches hanging from the wall, Agnes thought she could see the dark form of the very monster she had warned the children about. Hovering in the shadows.

And in that moment, she cried. She cried the first tears she had wept in a long, long time.