Red and the Wolf

Winded, my lungs burned for oxygen, and I stopped to catch my breath. The wolf's haunting howls grew louder, closer. I was losing the race for my life. Exhausted, I stumbled over an oak tree root and fell to the forest floor. Panting in fatigue, I barely felt the pain in my ankle because terror overwhelmed me. Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I froze as the great grey wolf stepped from behind a tree and circled. His red eyes, like embers, blazed with hunger and hate. Droplets of green drool and foamy white slime dripped from his bared canines that were as sharp as daggers. The predator's stench of oily musk, decayed remnants from blood lust, and sour fur filled my nose, and I gagged.

"You are mine Red. I warned you not to interfere. I'm going to shred you limb from limb, and rip your heart out as my tasty reward."

Five feet tall at the shoulders, the wolf loomed above me, growled and grinned.

***

I bolted up from my Marine barracks bunk and gasped for air. Shivering, cold sweat streamed down my face to the soaked t-shirt that clung to my skin.

"Red, you okay?" whispered my bunkmate. "Nightmares again?"

"Yes. No. I don't know, Kate," I panted. "Somethings wrong. This one was different."

"How so?"

"This time, the wolf caught me."

***

Sunday morning at Camp Lejeune Marine base in Jacksonville, N.C., was my only day free from reveille, presentation of colors, p.t., and morning inspection. The sun hadn't risen yet, and I attempted to shower the stench of my nightmare away.

I should have still been sleeping, but my fears had multiplied. They refused to release me like an aggressive cancer that consumed my soul. Trauma and weaknesses of the past were in direct conflict with the new confidence instilled by the Corp. I called my mom's cell phone for the third time with no response. After four phone calls, rendered voice mails, and six text messages unanswered, I made a decision. I had to go home to New York City. Something was wrong.

Since the night her wild animal of a boyfriend had been arrested for domestic violence my mother had always responded faithfully. His physical assaults on me were the turning point for her courage to have him prosecuted and seek a restraining order. After he was released on bail, unable to get to my mom, he ambushed me in a parking garage. A heroic passerby had interrupted a man in a ski mask tearing my shirt and bra off before he could rape me.

"I will get you, you red headed bitch. You're mine," He yelled as he escaped into the shadows.

I know it was him; I'd recognize his gap-toothed grin anywhere. The stench of his cheap oily musk cologne, tooth rot, and sour whiskey breath made me gag.

In fear, I ran from the city. On a whim, I joined the U.S. Marine Corps to become one of the few and the proud. The Marines didn't drive the fear out of me but prepared me to face it.

My cell phone chirped, and my Grandmother's photo populated the screen. I answered.

"Grandma, have you heard from Mom?"

"Hello, Red. How nice to hear your voice. When are you going to come visit me again?" she said.

"Grandma, answer me. Have you heard from Mom?"

"Your mother is here dear. We'd love for you to come to my house and visit. Can you come today?"

"What is going on Grandma?"

I hadn't spoken to my Grandmother since she had disowned me for running from the city and abandoning my mom.

"Leave it to the men to fight their stupid wars. Don't abandon your family," she had said.

"Come for a visit won't you? Today? I miss the days when you were little and I would read fairytales to you. I believe Little Red Riding Hood was your favorite. I could read to you again. Do you remember the story?"

"I'm coming Grandma. I'm off duty but have to attain a pass to leave the area."

"Come soon, dear, Love you," she said and hung up.

One, my Grandmother hated to read. Two, she hated Little Red Riding Hood. 'How could the girl not recognize a wolf in her grandmother's bed' she would say. Three, once my Grandmother decided you were wrong, she was inflexible. The only path to reconciliation would require me to beg her forgiveness.

"The big bad wolf is at my Grandmother's house holding them hostage. He wants me there to make it a nice tidy package," I said to the bathroom mirror and flexed the muscles of my five-foot two-inch hundred-pound frame.

The re-formed redheaded woman stared back at me and said,

"If he insists on stalking Little Red Riding Hood, then he's going to discover I’m not the same woman he beat and tried to rape in the parking garage last year."

I pulled on my scarlet Marine Corp hooded sweatshirt and jeans, borrowed the fire ax from the barracks wall, and ran for my car.

***

Twenty-four hours later, I returned to North Carolina and read an online New York City newspaper in the Camp Lejeune Marine Base library.

______________

New York Herald, Monday, August 07, 2023

The body of Victor Wolf, a partner with Wolf Enterprises, was pulled from the East River this morning. Wolf had just been released from prison for a domestic assault conviction last week. The N.Y.P.D. is seeking public assistance in what they have called a brutal ax slaying. They are searching for a woman, approximately five foot two inches tall, wearing a red hooded sweatshirt, as a possible person of interest. If you know anything about this Little Red Riding Hood, call the Crime Stopper's number on the screen below.

______________

***

One week later, the New York Herald published a follow-up to the story.

______________

The mystery of Little Red Riding Hood has baffled the N.Y.P.D. as there are now fifty-two cases involving attacks on men by suspects wearing Red Hooded Sweatshirts. Public relations officer Captain Rodriguez stated,

"All victims have one thing in common. They are men previously convicted of domestic violence. The perps seem to have an ax to grind with these predators. We are asking these vigilantes to stand down, trust the system, and let the authorities handle these matters."

On another note, Woman Against Violence for Everyone (W.A.V.E.) has announced a protest in Central Park next Saturday. They are encouraging all attendees to wear red hooded sweatshirts as a sign of solidarity to expose violence against women and the broken system of justice that has failed so many.

______________

For the first time in years, I slept without fear and dreamed of picnics in Central Park under cotton candy clouds floating across blue, sun-filled skies.

Rested and confident, I volunteered to read for the local library’s Children’s Story Time Hour. My selection? The Brothers Grimm, Little Red Riding Hood. I have yet to decide what version of the story I will share. All I know, one way or the other, Red wins, and the big bad wolf loses.