Little Red Riding Hood

She is restless. She sits in the corner. Wolf has been as well. The warmth of her fire has been the source of their comfort; now it is the reason they can stay indoors, yet apart. Wolf can barely look at her, and when he does, she can no longer sense the pull they had towards each other. He is repulsed by her. No matter how she fills the table with bountiful meals and graces the table with thanks to the Lord for them having each other, she knows it is for not.

That night, she puts out the fire. Stores away the last of the food. Drags out her old wolf-skin blankets and piles them on the bed so there is no room for Wolf. Finally, she leaves the door open. Cold, crisp air enters and fills the house. It is no longer a home. Not for her, not for him. He howls by the window. Sniffs the air. There is game outside. A small hare, no bigger than his snout. It would be his first kill in months. He closed his eyes and imagined crunching down on the limp body, the fresh scent of blood as it dribbled down his teeth. The taste.

Instead, he turns slowly and pounces at the bed. Down tumbles the blankets. Wolf curls up to Red and waits for her to reach her arm around him. She does. His heart feels nothing, but maybe tomorrow he will. Maybe. Red pulls him closer, tears streaming down her face. He licks up her tears, wishing he didn't. Wishing instead he was back out in the wild. Yet there he was, in bed with Red. He puts his head down, and comforts himself with thoughts of running out the door in some undetermined future. He imagined Red's tears as he ran out, and she was helpless to stop him, and those thoughts brought him to a deep slumber.

Hold on while we can.

There was a time when I smiled. Life was light. Pain was bearable. Hardship was endurable. Each day it gets harder to smile. Maybe it was me all along. I'm not built for society. Correction: I'm not made for families. Lord knows I've hated being part of one. Worked hard to rid myself of it. Despise it. I'm not meant to be part of a family. I don't want to be. I don't.






Forgive me, for I will walk away.

All I am, and all I could be, is your ultimate mistake.

...and then it was gone.

Today was like any other day.
Went to bed, woke up.
Sleepy, tired, groggy.
It was supposed to be just like any other day.
I packed my belongings as I had a million times.
I held the dress in my hands, imagining myself needing it.
This is just like any other day.
Comfort, safety, to chase away the pain.
All into the bag.
Because today is just like any other day.
Got ready, prepared for class.
I shouldn't eat so much.


try to shake off his brisk manner.
Unfeeling.
Efficient?
Get the job done.


The drive felt horrendously long.
Why were there so many cars on the road?
Four hours felt like twenty.
Eternity.
I took the time to say grace and thanks,
You know, in case it was my last.
Today is like any other day.
These tears are just as they flowed on other days.

Drove home, another agony awaits.
I wait.
No, today was not to be the day.
This really was, just like any other Saturday.

Went upstairs, showered.
There are some stains you can never wash off.
What have I done..and what will I do?
What would I have said if this was someone else?
Turn off the taps.

The bag needs more packing.
It's heavier than usual.
Can I carry this burden with me?
Will its weight crush me down
Is there still room for me way up there?

Tonight we laugh, we joke, we plan.
Could this be my last night?
Goodnight, have a restless slumber ahead.
Tomorrow will be just like any other day.

The distance felt horrible.
The wait even more so.

if I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down in a bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn.
Send me away in the words of a love song.

countless time he hears the sound escape my lips,
Countless times I say I said nothing
For today is just like any other.

I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to the click of a padlock the same again.
Metal against metal.
Keep me in,
Or shut you out?
Today is just like any other day.
Here I lie, closing my eyes.
Shut them tight.
Breathe.
Am I still breathing?
Did I make it through?


She's a fighter, she is.
always is, always has been.

Now here's the hard part:
Will tomorrow be just like any other day?

And then there were none.

 Fiona combed out the last curl of her hair. She wished it was straight. Just like all the other pretty girls. She looked in the mirror and sighed.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

Fiona felt Tubbles glide across her shin.
Fat cat.
She picked him up, folded him so he curled up to her chest.
She looked at her reflection again, holding Tumbles.
Somehow, she didn't feel so hideous anymore.
Maybe it was because Tubbles was so..... tubby.
Tubbles pointed his nose towards her chin, and she met his cold, wet nose. He smelt of cat food.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

There were days she ran home in tears, and there Tubbles would be. He pretended to be all cat-like and not understand her tears, but she knew he did. He would pretend he was snuggling for purr-ly cat-fish reasons, but she knew.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

She loved cupping her hand and tapping it onto Tubbles' meaty drumstick. It gave her comfort. He gave her warmth. Just by being there, he gave her comfort.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"