The Wolf and the young seven kids

Once upon a time…

No, wrong start.

Deep in the forest, in a small but delicate little house, lived a goat with her seven children. Her husband was already dead. A pack of wolves had torn him apart. All that was left of him were some bones. The goat had a hard time providing for herself and her children. Even clothing was challenging to get. The clothes they wore were made of patches sewn together.

Every time the mother had to get something to eat, she had a long way to go. From early morning to late night, she was on the road.

Her children stayed at home. With every exit, the goat warned her kids about wolves and humans. The children listened obediently and took the warnings seriously.

But one day, everything went wrong. The mother was away, and the kids were playing around the house.

What nobody knew. For weeks, they had been watched. Hidden in the shadows of the forest lurked a brutal danger. Its aura radiated evil. Not even the hunters were able to come close to this creature.

And its victims on this fateful day were the seven kids. Saliva ran down its lips.

His plan was sophisticated and well-thought-out. For nights, he wrote down his ideas and connected them. Behind a bush lay a postman's costume. He put it on and smoothed it out. The dried blood stains on the clothing were ignored. He shouldered the bag and marched to the little house.

His disguise was perfect. He couldn't present himself as the mother of the kids. He had no sweet voice and certainly not a white paw.

The wolf took some letters from the bag and knocked on the wooden door. The kids were startled. They looked at each other helplessly. The oldest of the little ones went to the door. With all his courage, he shouted: "Whoever you are, we won't open." "My dear kids, don't be startled. I'm just the postman and have some letters for you." The deep, scratchy voice of the wolf startled the kid. It turned to its siblings, who looked at it with questioning eyes.

"Why do you have such a deep, scratchy voice like the evil wolf?" The kid stayed in place. "I caught a cold, young kid." The wolf was getting impatient. His saliva ran together in his mouth when he thought about their little thighs. He got dizzy. Sweat broke out.

Suddenly, he screamed and smashed open the door. The kids were frightened and tried to hide. Fear crept into their little bodies. They wanted to yell for help, but the fear kept their mouths shut. He clung to the kids and paralyzed their movements. The wolf tore the clothes and laughed loudly. It was shrill, which was very unusual for him. He strolled around and looked around. The kids didn't have much time to hide. He saw some of them and heard their quiet whimpering.

That was music to his ears. A feeling of warmth spread in his chest. He tasted their tender flesh. Meanwhile, the wolf saw red. He threw over the dining table and grabbed two kids hiding there. In despair, the little ones screamed. Tears streamed from their frightened eyes. The wolf didn't care and bit the neck of the first one. Blood spurted from the wound and covered the wolf's face. The second one tried to free itself from the wolf's grip, but as expected, he was strong. With his mouth, he tore off the arm of the first victim and chewed contentedly. The kid was no longer conscious. It didn't feel the pain. He let it fall to the floor. The blood spread under the kid.

Then, the head of the perpetrator shot at the second one. The kid closed his eyes. Here, the significant beast bit into the chest. Over and over again, he bit heartily into it. The red fluid flew in all directions, giving the walls a new paint job. He ripped the still-beating heart out of the small chest and swallowed it. Dead and with an open crate, the kid was thrown against the wall. There, it left a big red imprint.

The siblings had to witness how two died and how the red life fluid ran out of the little bodies. They knew they would be the next victims.

One of the kids felt sick and vomited in the next moment. Suddenly, the wolf stood in front of the bed. He reached under the bed and pulled out the kid by the leg. He grabbed the head and bit it off the body. The blood gushed out and soiled the wolf. He chewed the head and then spat it out. He squeezed the little body so the last drop of blood would get into his mouth. The siblings were shaking with fear.

The feeling that they would die today was confirmed. The wolf slaughtered one after the other. The ground could no longer be seen. The blood flowed from the little bodies. The wolf even found the smallest kid hiding in the grandfather clock. It was no use. The evil wolf smelled everything.

After the meal, he took a big swig from a water bottle lying on the ground.

He grunted, rubbed his stomach, marched out into the forest, and disappeared.

After a few hours, the mother of the murdered kids came home. Unaware, she approached the house. There, she noticed the open door. Immediately, she ran towards the house.

Panting, she stood at the door frame. Her eyes widened at the terrible sight of her shredded children.

She screamed.

She cried.

She denied.

She beat herself.

She hugged the remaining limbs of her children.

She rocked on the floor.

Her spirit died within her. The mother leaned against the wall. She stared into the void and muttered: "It's my fault. I should have taken them with me. I should have moved to the village with them." She repeated the sentences. She didn't notice how the gendarmes and a doctor arrived. The neighbours who heard her pain-filled screams and immediately reported it were also there.

The doctor wanted to examine her, but she resisted. Wildly, she fought and injured the doctor in the face. A small line of blood ran down his cheek. The guardians of the law grabbed her to calm her down. One of them called the doctor to give her a sedative injection. Said and done.

The goat felt dizzy. Everything spun. Her body became heavy. She could no longer defend herself. Her eyelids also couldn't stay open.

Darkness surrounded her.

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After months of the horrible incident, she had a small solace. A hunter shot the wolf. The goat didn't believe the whole story. They would only tell her abominable lies. Pensively, she looked out. The high wall surrounding the mental institution always left her with a bitter aftertaste.

"Will we ever get out?" she muttered and looked into the eyes of the seven stuffed animals.