Little Red made this trip as early as twelve.
Her baggy hood wasn't enough to cover up from the wolves
The feeling of shame, arising, the first time they noticed
that Little Red wasn't looking too Little... anymore.
At twelve, she was whispered about.
At 14 they howled,
And at 16, Little Red was followed.
Thirst dry in the mouth of the wolf who picked up her scent
Her heart, beating out of her chest.
She should've known better,
But who could've known better?
Red was normally careful.
She walked with mace strapped to her basket.
Moved with a purpose.
Stayed in a group
But this wolf was hungry,
He looked as though he was fasting,
waiting for a girl with a cape like hers
Little Red was trapped.
Bruised and taken advantage of,
She didn't make it to grandmothers house that afternoon
in the villiage the next day,
Red was whispered about again,
A different narrative this time
They questioned her choices.
What was she wearing?
What route did she take?
Why was she on the way to grandmothers in the first place?
The Wolf Got away,
Never even questioned,
The hunters went out
But no one was arrested
Red was not only attacked,
She was blamed,
Regardless of the facts,
She was never the same.