LITTLE RED RETOLD:
I walk slowly through the city park, eyes glued on my shoes. My mind screaming at me to throw the backpack and never go back to Grandma's.
"SHE - IS - SO - MEAN"
I think out loud mean comes out as a gutteral snarl -
One tear stains my cheek.
"I- I...think I turned thirteen today. Or was it yesterday? Whatever. That doesn't matter now." my voice echoes in my head and reverberates between my ears.
My name was Emily on my birthday cake last year it was pink butter cream frosting letters that Mom licked off her thumb when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Nothing tastes the same to me anymore. Everything seems grey. I don't know who that girl - the one that tells Mom I hate her - I don't know who that is.
Now, my favorite hoodie - the hoodie Mom bought me at the mall a few months ago is two sizes too big and smells like the weird tea Grandma made me drink all summer.
It tasted like stale almonds. Each swallow made me gag. That ugly black tea - the one that tasted like melted batteries and cough drops.
The hood stays up because I am SO cold - even though its June 17th.
I chew on my hoodie string and the backpack laden with grandma's groceries hurts my back. People get freaked when they see my eyes these days. Like I will bite them or something.
It gets scary in my head, like really dark in here. The echo's from the shadow on my wall almost howl. It sounds like two reels' audios play at once inside my head and neither will pause all -the - TIME!
One is me.. or at least I think it is...The other ones - I don't know anymore - they growl, or they rasp and claw their way out of my mouth. Something else - a small voice - that seems so loud - A ROAR
"RUN TO HIM - Run to Mr. Wolfe"
The grey haired man sits on a bench, I meet his gaze and he smiles. His teeth look too sharp now- His eyes look like they know me too much - I don't like him much anymore, but I don't know why - but I want to trust him. He is sixty maybe, he seems like a gentle quiet person. He always gave me a cocoa when we played chess in the park last fall - it was warm and sweet like his eyes.
His coat sleeves tremble as I walk by and he stares into my soul as I pass. I stick my tongue out at him and keep walking with my hoodie pulled a little tighter. "Why did I do that? He was my friend..once." I murmer outloud quietly. I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie. His EYES they are bright like the moon on harvest. They are so SCARY to me now. The hair over his ears chaotically stick up, it looks goofy to me.
He’s the only one who ever noticed when I stopped laughing at my own jokes. We used to play chess every Friday at the park. Now he looks at me like he would rather **** me than talk to me. My therapist says that's just my head playing tricks.
I hear my voice echo in my skull “He’ll smell the tea, he’ll know Grandma tied something bad to my heartbeat, he’ll yank it out before it finishes eating me.” I want to drop my phone, sprint across the concrete, crash into him and whisper, “I’m still the girl who played chess in the park, The one you taught division to- please -Help me - please- SAVE ME!”
That other weird audio drops harder, glitchy, bleeding and looping Grandma’s creepy lullaby under a trap beat. It giggles with my voice but older, meaner:
“Why cry, baby? We leveled up.” She loves how the wolf’s shoulders tense when he sees me coming, loves the way my fingers know exactly which pocket holds the “special” brownie bite Grandma baked - the one special for HIM.
“Feed it to him, Give him that treat” the voice purrs, making my tongue feel thick and sweet. “Watch those pretty silver eyes go soft and empty. Then we’ll film it vertical while that Starbucks guy with the man-bun - that dated my momma for a while - laughs. He smiles like AI YouTube ads- and chops down my spirit - every chance he gets...
I stop under the flickering park light that buzzes like a dying fly. My shadow splits in two on the concrete.
Mr. Wolfe stands up slow, hands in pockets, waiting. My hand shakes as it goes for grandma's special "Hush Puppy Brownie" I screams one last raw note nobody else can hear: "I’M STILL A KID PLEASE SAVE ME!" Somehow the man in grey seems to hear it. As if he reads the echo in my mind. I tear up. I feel embarrassed, guilty. He taught me MATH. Fractions, sitting in the church basement for months together, with Max, my older brother, while mom worked late nights at the bar.
The dark voice turns the volume to max, smiles through with MY teeth, and holds out the brownie like it’s just a snack between friends. I fight hard this time.
I fall to my knees instead
"Grandma will be mad! She - She will be mad at me- about the mud stains on my new jeans" that voice hisses, out of my mouth in frustration.
My hands in my hair, pulling it.
"MAKE IT STOP" I cry out.
The 'treat' fell to the ground. into a mud puddle. In a moment where everything got a little clearer, I spit on it and looked up at the man who was closer now, had his head tilted at me, curious. That venomous voice snakes around - angered by me not listening again.
“Grandma’s waiting,” both voices say through my head, perfectly synced, sugar-rotten and ice-cold. I look up at Mr. Wolfe, he is standing right in front of me now. He offers me his hand, and helps me up.
"Sweet child, you can make it stop just by cleansing your heart, mind and soul! I could teach you how Let's play a game of chess and talk this all out." He offers me a lolli-pop. A grape dum-dum. My favorite. I walk slowly toward my grandmothers instead - He stops me again.
"Mr. Wolfe I- really- I am sorry but don't have time for chess today - I - I really have to get to grandma's house before dark --" I stutter, feeling cold again.
"Emily - You haven't been back to the church group! Lets just play a quick game - Then you can go." Mr. Wolfe's voice cuts through the noise in my head for a second.
The voice up there hisses "NO - NO - NOOO WE CAN'T LET HIM TALK TO HER" It echoes in my grandmother's voice - Like the day she found out I was at a church group after school - I guess she knows Mr. Wolfe. The arguing in my head gets louder.
Mr. Wolfe gently puts a hand on my shoulder "I know your grandma is mean to you Emily, How bout this - I call a friend of mine - and we can wait here - and you can talk to them!" He smiles a truly genuine warm smile.
I nod - sad and scared.
I talked to his friend that I guess was some kind of detective.
Two days later - Grandma went to prison for trying to poison me with words and her tea.
I went to the hospital - the whole time - Momma and Mr. Wolfe held my hands -
The woodsman that hurt grandma and me - was arrested too.
He had pictures on his phone that were bad I don't remember any pictures - only the tea...then nothing.
But - that is all over now, thanks to Mr. Wolfe, and the telling the truth - I feel safe now.
Thank God.
I can breathe again, and think again.
I can smile again.
THE END
Nov 24, 2025
Nov 24, 2025 at 6:52 PM UTC
LITTLE RED RETOLD:
I walk slowly through the city park, eyes glued on my shoes. My mind screaming at me to throw the backpack and never go back to Grandma's.
"SHE - IS - SO - MEAN"
I think out loud mean comes out as a gutteral snarl -
One tear stains my cheek.
"I- I...think I turned thirteen today. Or was it yesterday? Whatever. That doesn't matter now." my voice echoes in my head and reverberates between my ears.
My name was Emily on my birthday cake last year it was pink butter cream frosting letters that Mom licked off her thumb when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Nothing tastes the same to me anymore. Everything seems grey. I don't know who that girl - the one that tells Mom I hate her - I don't know who that is.
Now, my favorite hoodie - the hoodie Mom bought me at the mall a few months ago is two sizes too big and smells like the weird tea Grandma made me drink all summer.
It tasted like stale almonds. Each swallow made me gag. That ugly black tea - the one that tasted like melted batteries and cough drops.
The hood stays up because I am SO cold - even though its June 17th.
I chew on my hoodie string and the backpack laden with grandma's groceries hurts my back. People get freaked when they see my eyes these days. Like I will bite them or something.
It gets scary in my head, like really dark in here. The echo's from the shadow on my wall almost howl. It sounds like two reels' audios play at once inside my head and neither will pause all -the - TIME!
One is me.. or at least I think it is...The other ones - I don't know anymore - they growl, or they rasp and claw their way out of my mouth. Something else - a small voice - that seems so loud - A ROAR
"RUN TO HIM - Run to Mr. Wolfe"
The grey haired man sits on a bench, I meet his gaze and he smiles. His teeth look too sharp now- His eyes look like they know me too much - I don't like him much anymore, but I don't know why - but I want to trust him. He is sixty maybe, he seems like a gentle quiet person. He always gave me a cocoa when we played chess in the park last fall - it was warm and sweet like his eyes.
His coat sleeves tremble as I walk by and he stares into my soul as I pass. I stick my tongue out at him and keep walking with my hoodie pulled a little tighter. "Why did I do that? He was my friend..once." I murmer outloud quietly. I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie. His EYES they are bright like the moon on harvest. They are so SCARY to me now. The hair over his ears chaotically stick up, it looks goofy to me.
He’s the only one who ever noticed when I stopped laughing at my own jokes. We used to play chess every Friday at the park. Now he looks at me like he would rather **** me than talk to me. My therapist says that's just my head playing tricks.
I hear my voice echo in my skull “He’ll smell the tea, he’ll know Grandma tied something bad to my heartbeat, he’ll yank it out before it finishes eating me.” I want to drop my phone, sprint across the concrete, crash into him and whisper, “I’m still the girl who played chess in the park, The one you taught division to- please -Help me - please- SAVE ME!”
That other weird audio drops harder, glitchy, bleeding and looping Grandma’s creepy lullaby under a trap beat. It giggles with my voice but older, meaner:
“Why cry, baby? We leveled up.” She loves how the wolf’s shoulders tense when he sees me coming, loves the way my fingers know exactly which pocket holds the “special” brownie bite Grandma baked - the one special for HIM.
“Feed it to him, Give him that treat” the voice purrs, making my tongue feel thick and sweet. “Watch those pretty silver eyes go soft and empty. Then we’ll film it vertical while that Starbucks guy with the man-bun - that dated my momma for a while - laughs. He smiles like AI YouTube ads- and chops down my spirit - every chance he gets...
I stop under the flickering park light that buzzes like a dying fly. My shadow splits in two on the concrete.
Mr. Wolfe stands up slow, hands in pockets, waiting. My hand shakes as it goes for grandma's special "Hush Puppy Brownie" I screams one last raw note nobody else can hear: "I’M STILL A KID PLEASE SAVE ME!" Somehow the man in grey seems to hear it. As if he reads the echo in my mind. I tear up. I feel embarrassed, guilty. He taught me MATH. Fractions, sitting in the church basement for months together, with Max, my older brother, while mom worked late nights at the bar.
The dark voice turns the volume to max, smiles through with MY teeth, and holds out the brownie like it’s just a snack between friends. I fight hard this time.
I fall to my knees instead
"Grandma will be mad! She - She will be mad at me- about the mud stains on my new jeans" that voice hisses, out of my mouth in frustration.
My hands in my hair, pulling it.
"MAKE IT STOP" I cry out.
The 'treat' fell to the ground. into a mud puddle. In a moment where everything got a little clearer, I spit on it and looked up at the man who was closer now, had his head tilted at me, curious. That venomous voice snakes around - angered by me not listening again.
“Grandma’s waiting,” both voices say through my head, perfectly synced, sugar-rotten and ice-cold. I look up at Mr. Wolfe, he is standing right in front of me now. He offers me his hand, and helps me up.
"Sweet child, you can make it stop just by cleansing your heart, mind and soul! I could teach you how Let's play a game of chess and talk this all out." He offers me a lolli-pop. A grape dum-dum. My favorite. I walk slowly toward my grandmothers instead - He stops me again.
"Mr. Wolfe I- really- I am sorry but don't have time for chess today - I - I really have to get to grandma's house before dark --" I stutter, feeling cold again.
"Emily - You haven't been back to the church group! Lets just play a quick game - Then you can go." Mr. Wolfe's voice cuts through the noise in my head for a second.
The voice up there hisses "NO - NO - NOOO WE CAN'T LET HIM TALK TO HER" It echoes in my grandmother's voice - Like the day she found out I was at a church group after school - I guess she knows Mr. Wolfe. The arguing in my head gets louder.
Mr. Wolfe gently puts a hand on my shoulder "I know your grandma is mean to you Emily, How bout this - I call a friend of mine - and we can wait here - and you can talk to them!" He smiles a truly genuine warm smile.
I nod - sad and scared.
I talked to his friend that I guess was some kind of detective.
Two days later - Grandma went to prison for trying to poison me with words and her tea.
I went to the hospital - the whole time - Momma and Mr. Wolfe held my hands -
The woodsman that hurt grandma and me - was arrested too.
He had pictures on his phone that were bad I don't remember any pictures - only the tea...then nothing.
But - that is all over now, thanks to Mr. Wolfe, and the telling the truth - I feel safe now.
Thank God.
I can breathe again, and think again.
I can smile again.
THE END
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