Horror logo

Red Moon

What really happened when Red Riding Hood went to Grandmas?

By Brian PomphreyPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
Like

The moon. Illuminating itself like a stranger glaring into nineteen year old Red’s kitchen window. Fair skin, flowing red hair and a petite frame, she retrieves cookies from the oven, only to burn her hand causing them to fall on the tiled floor and shatter. She tosses them away and sighs. Grandma will have to deal with store bought.

Locking the door behind her, Red starts for a pathway lit helpfully by the blue stranger. A restless sound of the wind sharply flutters through her ears now that she is miles away from home. Howling becomes the air with a symbiotic relationship of unease. Finding it hard to ignore the dead leaves that bow to Red’s every move. Long distorted branches close around the kind glowing stranger who sits in the sky without much comfort. Golden orbs with a fiery core burns through lumps of grey fur and flesh watching her…smelling her…yearning for her…the taste of her flesh, but under it all…juicy red. It’s head is throbbing. Like it’s brain is about to burst through it’s freakish skull. A growl takes low to the air climbing up her spine. Walking becomes sprinting, sprinting becomes RUNNING! Running through gaps of trees and bushes that make way for a road. Red comes to a foolish stop, and turns to answer an itch that begs to see….nothing. Nothing at all. Red sighs and continues.

The blue friend finds itself in her eyes, before seemingly to promise loneliness, cannot stress enough that she is very much not alone. Wanting. Feeling. Feeling how good this is going to be. Gravel and pebbles cruise under her shoes slowly. She finds and grips a wooden weapon that contains a sharpness from where it broke off. Silence. It’s okay. Red’s eyes open wide when a huge wolf, with ears violently shaping it’s head, and an alarming roar comes at her with raging teeth, piercing through her arm. Her grip on the stick tightens as the monstrous wolf brings her down to the ground with terrible force almost pulling her arm from her socket. Clamping down hard, the creature’s jaws break open flesh to hail bone. She lets out an awful scream but no one is there. No one except the moon. Who’s only contribution to this moment is of a silent observer. Determined to live through this hellish scenario, she jabs the sharpened stick through one of the monster's pulpy globes. It’s immediate reaction to release its grip on her, shaking it’s head in pain, letting out a ghoulish noise. She punctures the second, leaving the frenzied brute blind. Red hastily makes a run for it, trying to ignore the pain. Her legs want to give out on her, but she keeps going. Her lungs burn. Surrounded by her blood, the creature’s senses go off the deep end. Ramming it’s head into a tree, lashing out. Ripped leaves and sticks rain down on the sadistic abstract of living carnage. Howling.

Frantic Red can finally make out her grandma’s house. The warm safe promise of light from a window. Red barges in panic stricken. Like a wonderful angel, Grandma opens her arms and the young terrified girl speeds into her bosoms sobbing. The only bit of family she has left. Grandma notices red coloring flowing like a dead river.

“Everything is alright now.” Her eyes glimmer, in them say she has learned to let go of many things. Red looks up at her with sunken eyes. Grandma prepares a sandwich. Setting the knife to cut perfectly down the middle, she flinches. Small drops of blood drizzle from her bony finger like death in between the doorway from kitchen to living room ,where Red is swaddled up in her favorite hand sewed blanket. Perched on the couch, comforted by the escape of television.

A month passes. The wound has healed. Red has taken solace in staying over until she feels safe to head home. Night falls. Grandma retires for alone time and music. The loud music irritates Red who closes herself off to the sounds of the world with her pillow. Going unnoticed however is the return of Red’s friend in the sky. Grandma comforts herself next to her late husband's side of the bed. Red watches tv.

Suddenly static.

Noiseless grain scurrying around like crazed insects looking desperately for food. Disturbing in its parallel to death. That for a whole day, you will receive information like a sponge, of color, of emotion. Ideas. Facts. Inventions. So many amazing ornaments on this tree of life that like a random tick, can snuff it out to complete nothing. Like the static imagery that cannot be proven right or wrong if death becomes a reality in an instant.

And in an instant...Screaming!

She jumps up from her seat tearing off her clothes. A terrible burst of heat. Venting for air, she knocks down a lamp, shattering the bulb. Quickly falling to her knees, the pain shoots through her body and forces every nerve to vibrate and stiffen. Her body stretches. Her insides are clumping together and dispersing out in new placements. Hands elongate. Nails form sharply a rusted yellow. Her feet stretch, submitting her to all fours. The moon light paves through the window spotlighting the transformation. Teeth painfully shift to sharp fangs. Her ears morph to pointed silhouettes. Hair rapidly surfaces all over her body. Her bones rotate through her torso, erasing her. A beautiful young face now covered in fur - cracked and shifted. The poor girl’s eyes shut tightly as foam ejects up from her mouth and snout. Screams distorts to a loud terrible roar. It’s eyelids unleash clear golden spheres. Sniffing around it’s surroundings, this exasperated deformity follows a scent to grandma’s door. Grandma, wakes pleasantly to her loud classical music, switches it off and heads for the door for a drink. With one swipe, red covers the walls.

To be continued...

fiction
Like

About the Creator

Brian Pomphrey

Lover of all things horror, action, scifi, and comedy.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.