What If...Red Riding Hood

I'm starting to create a series of What If? stories, where, basically, "what if" something led to the story being told? And "what if" something else happened instead of that? In the first of hopefully many What If stories, this one is What If Red Riding Hood was the wolf?

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1. The Witch.

 London,1888.         

              "Come along now, it's getting late! You have read the newspapers, haven't you? Two, dead! Even if it is just those whores of the night...Clara! Come on girl,I'm going to have to rush you if you don't stop dawdling!"

                      The young woman, Clara, stepped slowly into the circle of the gas-lit street light."Sorry-I-I was distracted."

                  "I can tell! Now, take my arm, before the mysterious man of the night takes you!" The young man started making "Woo-ooh!" noises, and Clara gave him a stern look. Taking his arm, Clara replied with, "You may just be my brother, but you could say we are hardly related at all!"  Victor feigned hurt and shock. 

         "Clara! What would Mother say?" He grinned broadly, and shoved her lightly.

                   "Hey, don't do that! You are only twenty-two, so you should be nicer!" A big thumping step behind them made them jump.

        "Who's there? Come out!" Victor said into the darkness. 

      "Come on, let's just go, Victor..."  Victor and Clara turned, and started to walk. But again, another thump made them turn around. "I'm warning you! I don't care who you are, just step into the light! If it is this 'Jacky'', get back! I have a very high position in the police force, you should know!"

     "Victor! I said LEAVE IT! Let us hurry home, do not worry about it, alright?" Truth be told, the sixteen year old was getting scared. VERY scared.

     "Fine, Clara. Chop chop, only a few more minutes and then you will be home to Mother and Father." Victor swallowed. He was worried for his younger sister. Distracted by his thoughts, Victor hadn't noticed Clara slip away from his arm and go to the area where the thumping had taken place from behind them. He didn't notice the sounds of a struggle, nor did he notice the sounds of her body being dragged out of his spherical vision as he turned.

       Victor was taken out of his trance when he heard the sound of cackling. "Clara? Clara! Clara, this is not funny! You are only sixteen years of age, you should not be playing jokes!" Victor listened closely, and thought he could hear the sound of rasping-the sound of a dying animal.

       "Clara? Are you alright? This is hardly lady like!"

        The rasping stopped. 

       "That was her name? Clara? What a sweet name, for such a sweet, sweet, girl. Too bad she was like the others."

       "Others? What do you mean?" Victor was bemused, his mind thinking that Clara had gotten herself a boyfriend and this was all a practical joke. His thumping heart said otherwise.

       "A whore. A prostitute. An easy kill. Too bad you've heard me, you could go squealin' to the bobbies. Wouldn't want that now, would we?" The voice was masculine, but that of the slums in London. Victor realised too late who it was, but managed to cry out, "Be forever cursed, your family and friends for centuries! May the witches curse live on!"

       

 

              

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