The True Story of Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood sprang out of her bed at precisely 7:00 a.m. when the sky was still streaked with pale peachy pink and yellow, ran past her breakfast, grabbed a basket with a slice of pecan pie, milk, and one loaf of fennel bread and ran halfway out of the door before her mother grabbed her hood. “Little Red Riding Hood,” her mother began slowly. “Be very sure not to stray from the trail and never talk to strangers!”                                                                                            

“Don’t be ill at ease, mother, I am only going to grandmother's farm!” Replied Little Red Riding Hood with a smile on her face like bread and spread.

The forest trees let in a limited amount of light because of their condensed branches and leaves, making the forest cold. At about a quarter of the way, the sun melted and slowly touched the vastness of farmland and houses. A sliver of butter on top of overlapping mounds of pancakes. After thirty minutes of nonstop walking, Little Red Riding Hood sat down in a patch of dried grass near an old maple tree. Little Red Riding Hood soon began to yearn for something to consume considering she didn’t have breakfast. She removed the checkered cloth covering the basket and began by eating the pie. “ I’m sure grandmother wouldn’t mind if I ate some of her pie. When I get over to her farm, I’ll bake another pie for her with fresher ingredients. After eating the pie her mouth became dry from the pecans, she looked at the milk, the only drink in the basket.  

“Grandmother has a farm with lots of cows soooo…” Little Red Riding Hood said to herself. “I’m sure she won’t mind me taking a few sips,” she said, opening the top. And in no longer than one short minute, the whole carton of milk was empty. Every last drop went down her throat.

After drinking a large quantity of milk, her stomach felt chafed. “Mother says that fennel bread helps ease a sore stomach.” So on that note, she pulled out the bread and broke it in half, sending a crunching sound through the forest.        

After taking a few immense bites, Little Red Riding Hood heard the snapping of twigs and branches. The sound inched closer… and closer… until, finally, to Little Red Riding Hood’s surprise, a fox sprung out of a large shrub. He picked out a few thorns and leaves off of himself, and straightened out his glossy coat with his small grubby fingers.  

“Good afternoon young lady!” he said, combing his tail with his paws. Forgetting what her mother had said, and trying not to be rude, Little Red Riding Hood replied “Good afternoon.” “Say,” said the fox rubbing his paws together “What is that you got in that basket?”                           

“I was going to my grandma’s farm to bring her pie, milk, and bread.’’ she anwsered lickiing her greasy fingers. “A farm? Where?” he said eagerly. “On the top hill. It’s hard to miss.’’ she said putting in the last bit of bread. “But…” Little Red Riding Hood began tilting her head down at the basket, “I ate most of it.”    

“Well, I just happen to be holding all of the aces.” said the fox. “I know a market that sells all of those things, and all you have to do is lend me your hood.” Little Red Riding Hood thought for a while. He seems nice enough, and the chicken coop has a metal screen at the entrance, the whole farm is fenced. What could possibly go wrong? She took off her hood. “Fine, but no tricks or cheats.” She said leading the way to the town in which her grandmother lived.  

After twenty minutes of darkness and shivering, they finally reached the town. A sweet, promising, and no doubt familiar smell filled the air from the markets. “My grandmother’s house is right up there.” she said pointing to it. The fox examined the town for a bit. “If you don’t mind, I will be going to that market I was talking about,” said the fox running away.   

Being a kind and well raised child, little Red Riding Hood purchased a pistachio pie. “I feel I must repay that fox for all the good things he is doing for me.” After walking a long distance past farms, houses, and shops, Little Red Riding Hood managed to make it to her grandmother’s house in time for supper. “Grandma! I’m here” she called. “I’m coming Little Red Riding Hood” said her grandmother. She opened the door. ”Come in! Supper is on the table.”   

Little Red Riding Hood set down her basket on the kitchen counter, and sat down to eat. After they were finished, they had warm tea and a short chat that was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Would you mind getting that?” said her grandmother pouring more tea into her cup. Little Red Riding Hood got up and opened the door. Before she could pay respect to the fox, he jammed a cloth bag into her arms. “I just remembered that I have to be somewhere and I can’t be late” said the fox panting. “Well,” said Little Red Riding Hood beginning to run into the kitchen. “At least take this.” she said handing him the pie. “Thank you,” the fox said looking behind him. “Come back any time!” She called out to him as he ran towards the forest, not noticing he had snached up a lamb. Little Red Riding Hood looked inside the warm cloth, to see what he was promised. The smell attracted her grandmother over. “I’ll make some tea to go with that.” Said the grandma pointing to the slices of pie.   

While Little Red Riding Hood was putting on her hood and her grandmother was making tea, a small group of men with pitchforks and ropes had marched up to the front of the hill. “That’s the thief with the Red Hood that stole from our market!” One of the men shouted raising his pitchfork. “ Stole? Absurdity! Hogwash!” Little Red Riding Hood exclaimed.    

While Little Red Riding Hood was arguing back and forth with the angry men, the fox was enjoying multiple slices of pistachio pie and lamb by a warm fire.

Ma’at Smith is a sixth grader at the Miquon School and enjoys writing fiction. She lives in Germantown with her parents and siblings. She prefers to pass her time by reading, writing, and hiking. Some of her favorite books are Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages, written by Harold Bloom; The Invention of Hugo Cabret, written by Brian Selznick; Wonderstruck, written by Brian Selznick; The Marvels, written by Brian Selznick; and the Wings of Fire Series, written by Tui T. Sutherland. She loves to craft stories, cook, and draw.