I recently discovered the movie "Red Riding Hood" (2011), starring Amanda Seyfried and Shiloh Fernandez, and I immediately fell in love with it! A few days ago, after a terrible bout of writer's block, my muse returned to me, full-force. I was inspired to write a little something based on this totally awesome movie, and, while it's a little short for my taste, I think it's pretty good, considering I've been totally dry for almost a year now! It's very angsty, so if you're not into that kind of thing, I suggest you look for something else to read.
Just to clear the air, I own absolutely nothing—not even Shiloh Fernandez . The only thing that's 100% mine is the plot.
The harsh winter air stung my face as I walked back toward the village. I wasn't watching where I was going, and suddenly ran smack into Henry, my betrothed. I gasped and stumbled back a few steps.
"Henry!" I exclaimed. "Where are you going in such a rush?"
"Get inside the church. Stay there and wait with your family. It's not safe out here."
"The wolf—" My hand flew to my mouth. Peter, I reminded myself. It's just Peter. Henry's retreating footsteps shook me back into reality. He was going after it, after Peter. No… "Henry, no! Wait!" I cried out. He didn't turn around, just kept walking as he answered me.
"Valerie, get out of here." A warning.
So I would go. I would go back to the church, back to holy ground, where it was safe. I ran as fast as I could, and opened the door just a bit. I stepped inside the sanctuary and watched as Henry's shape got smaller and smaller. Once he was out of sight, I would follow the tracks he had left in the snow. I felt someone grab my elbow, but I shrugged them off and strode back outside.
The red cape that Grandmother had given me billowed around my shoulders and I pulled it closer to keep warm. My breath plumed before me as I traipsed through the snow. Oh, Peter, where are you? I wondered desperately.
Then I heard it; just as I came to the clearing, I heard Peter's angry snarls and the shouting of the wolf-hunters. There was Father Solomon, mounted on his horse and holding that terrible silver sword that, with one swipe, would kill Peter in an instant. And the wolf-hunters—Henry, Auguste, and my own father among them—already had Peter cornered and bound with thick ropes around his neck. The pained howling echoed off the trees, sending chills down my spine. Tears sprang into my eyes, but I fought them off and broke into a sprint, rushing toward the group that surrounded Peter.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I screamed.
Only Father Solomon glanced in my direction and shouted over the noise, "This creature has terrorized this village long enough! It's time to put an end to it!"
And then he raised the deadly silver weapon high in the air, and with a loud shout, brought it down, the blade sinking into Peter's shoulder. He collapsed into the snow and, before our very eyes, phased back to his human form. The snow's purity was tainted by the blood that seeped from the wound.
Bounding over to where he had fallen, I knelt down and gently turned him over onto his back. Already his face was ashen, his beautiful brown eyes were glazed over, and he was trembling violently. He reached up and placed a cold hand to my face, and I took my own hand and held it over his.
"Valerie," he rasped out.
"Shh, hush now," I whispered. "You're going to be alright."
He grimaced in pain but tried to smile, for my sake. A short cough rumbled in his chest. "Don't you know…that…silver is—?"
I nodded. "Yes, I know," I choked out and kissed his palm. "I love you, Peter."
This time, he truly smiled as he said, "Run away with me?"
I nodded again. "Oh, yes. Far away from here, right?"
"Maybe the ocean—"
"Or the city," I recited.
Blood had risen into his mouth, staining his teeth. He coughed and gagged on it and I heard it gurgle in his throat. I knew he only had moments left now.
Leaning down, I pressed my lips firmly to his in one last profession of my love for him. I felt him take his last breath as I pulled away. His eyes were already closed. By now, I had given up on trying to be brave and hiding my tears. I swept my hand across his cold, damp forehead and raked my fingers through his dark brown hair. I brought my hand down to his chest and turned to face the wolf-hunters.
"Well?" I half-shouted. "Are you happy now? This 'wolf' that you were all so set on killing turned out to be the only man I've ever loved! You've killed an innocent man; he never chose to become a monster!" I stood up to face them all, anger coursing through my veins like fire. "And you!" I turned towards my father, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You were the one that turned him! You were the one that bit him that night! And it's your fault he's dead now!"
I wanted to fly at them all, kill them with my bare hands, but my feet wouldn't budge from where I stood in the snow. But vengeance was something I was unfamiliar with, something I could never bring myself to fulfill. For I knew that, every day for the rest of their lives, not a day would go by where they wouldn't remember the innocent life they had taken out of an unadulterated, pathological fear. As for me, I would never leave this village now. And I would never love again.