Krittika Chaurasia
11V
All’s Well That Ends Well
Dark water
swirled below the bridge, as the footsteps quickened, drawing closer and
closer. The distant cries of wolves interrupted the eerie silence that had
settled. The hooded figure let out a series of raspy hiccups. “Water… the
water…” it hissed, coming closer and closer…
Suddenly! A
series of deafeningly loud crashes echoed through the woods!!!
Double-R.H. awoke with a start, her
dream interrupted. Hiccups? Footsteps? What
the hell was that noise? Blearily, she looked outside – there didn’t seem
to be anything drastically different about the place. She flopped back into bed
and closed her eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, she was finally on the
verge of slumber, when she heard a shriek from below.
Oh, God. Well wasn’t this just
perfect… It seemed Stepmother Number Three had overdosed on her medication
again.
Darned insomniac.
“Oh Leetle
Rrred Rrriding Hooood! Could yooo come down here
for a second?”
Yup. Definite
overdose. And use of full childhood nickname with an emphasised
“Leetle” thrown in to further belittle her.
Why couldn’t she just overdose on her pills and commit suicide or something?
That would save people from having to murder her.
“Yooo-hooo! I am vaiting
for yooo, darrrling!”
Ew…what was with the ‘darling’?! Could she BE any more fake?! Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Double-R.H. tumbled out
of bed, changed and padded downstairs to the dimly lit kitchen.
“Hey… You, uh, yodelled?”
“Ah yes… I vas vondering,
my darrrling leetle Rrred, if it vould be posseeble for you to make an eentsy,
weensty leetle trip? Your poor dear grahnd-mother ees all a-lone in the deep, dark, daangerous
foreest. I am knowing
eet is late, and that you are verry
tired. But after hearing those terrible noises, some-vun
must check up on her. And eet seems, er, how do you say it? Ah yes, eet
seems you are the only man for thee job!”
Obviously pleased with her little
monologue, Stepmother Number Three flung a basket of mineral water and sodium-free
snacks at Double-R.H and swished her way upstairs, reeking of coffee and cheap
chain-store cologne.
Double-R.H. picked her jaw up off
the floor, grimaced, and made her way over to the shoe rack whilst muttering
some very unmentionable and unladylike words. So she hadn’t been dreaming about
the loud crashes? Yet another good night’s sleep ruined… All those years of
expensive schooling, late nights spent cramming for important exams, all that
effort… for this?!
Although, the only reason she
conceded to do this at all was not because she’d been asked to, or because it was
mere women’s work, but because Grandma was the closest thing to a real family
she had. It wasn’t easy being a clone of someone who’d left their mark with a little
red cape many centuries ago. And at least she had the chance to leave the house
on her own.
She noticed a new pair of boots
beside the door as she stepped out. Well,
whaddhya know… Dad was actually around. That
explained the saccharine-coated ‘darling’ thing Number Three had going on
there. Along with the show of concern for grandma. And
don’t forget the forced East-European accent, who does she think she’s kidding
with that? Everyone knows she’s from the South. How dare that
melanin-impoverished, blonde twig with eyelashes call her a “man”! If it wasn’t
for the fact that her adoptive father had funded her college education in a
spurt of generosity, she’d have walked out of the house the minute she’d
finished school.
Double-R.H. pondered the various aspects
of her life as she walked down the route to her grandmother’s house, ignoring
all the warning signs placed here and there. Many people believed the forest
was a foreboding and dangerous place at night, but Double-R.H. was clever
enough and confident enough to be openly sceptical about such obvious Freudian
imagery.
Her footsteps crunched along the
gravel. The bare, broken branches of gnarled trees hung down like twisted
limbs; the narrow path lit only by the dim moonlight sifting through hazy clouds
in the deep winter night. The snow draped like a blanket over the landscape,
slowly suffocating any flora that happened to lie in its wake.
A large hairy outline blocked her
path. It looked quite menacing, and Double-R.H. was almost frightened, until
she regained her composure and calmly asked it to get out of her way and to please, get a haircut.
“Oh! Well fancy that! It’s a little
girl! And what might you be doing here on a night like this? It’s awfully
unsafe, you know.”
A
surprisingly high-pitched voice for such a huge person, thought Double-R.H.
Struggling to see the stranger’s
facial features, Double-R.H glared into the darkness.
“Hmph! F.Y.I.,
I passed out of college last month. I think I know how to take care of myself
by now. And I find your sexist remark extremely offensive but I’m going to
ignore it because I am a dignified individual and I don’t feel like making
small talk with a…a… a wolf?!” The
moon, sailing out from behind a little blue cloud, had kindly shed a little
light upon the very spot they were standing.
Double-R.H. was a little taken aback
when she saw the ‘menacing hairy stranger’ was actually a rather small
sprightly wolf, talking like a human being and wearing an expensive-looking fur
coat and a fake Santa beard. So that’s where
all the hair was from.
He/She/It (Double-R.H. wasn’t quite
sure yet) caught her staring at the coat and exclaimed
“Oh don’t worry dearie,
its all fake. Chanel makes these gorgeous
ones with real mink, but I can’t quite go about here, wearing, y’know… animal fur”
dropping to a whisper at this part.
Right. Well this is just
dandy...after a freakishly weird dream and no sleep, I get chucked out of the
house late at night with mineral water and cholesterol-free food and I meet a walking, talking,
self-actualised wolf, unhampered by rigid traditionalist notions of masculine
and feminine dressing. This is way too creepy.
“Uh yeah, sure….Well now, if you’ll
excuse me, I must be on my way”
“Oh fiddlesticks! I forgot to introduce
myself. I’m Wolfie! Pray, what is your Christian
name?”
“Uh… I’m not sure I want you to know
that” muttered Double-R.H. walking away as fast as she could. “Goodbye now, I
need to get to the other side of the wood as quickly as possible.”
Wolfie scratched his Santa
beard.
“Goodness… that’s a long way off.
Hang on! I know a shortcut!”
Double-R.H. hesitated but then, guessing
the wolf’s intentions, whirled around and yelled “You don’t fool me one bit
with your gender-confused fashion sense! You’re an evil beast and your traditional
status as an outcast in society has obviously caused you much cerebral damage
which I suppose, accounts for your blatant perverse intentions!”
And with that she turned and ran as
fast as she could.
Wolfie stood alone in the dark,
deeply hurt and confused. Maybe she was homophobic. Or didn’t
like strangers. Or maybe what she’d said was right. Wolfie
was an outcast… the vegetarian outlook on life, flamboyant clothes and
happy-go-lucky nature were not welcome in the surly society, and the last time
he tried to attend the Wolvorama Festival, he’d been
brutally thrown out by security. Life wasn’t fair. And he was going to do
something about that very soon. He might have sighed heavily before and trudged
away in defeat, but not anymore. Wolfie was going to
show the world what he was made of. Starting now.
***
Steady strokes: one, two, three,
four. The log: perfectly quartered and ready for the fire. I worked my way
through the log piles like this, my axe slicing through the wood like a knife
through sponge cake. Smooth, slick, clean. That’s the
way I work. And I’m pretty damn good at it. But then again, this town isn’t
exactly overflowing with log-fuel technicians. I’m the only one around – so I
have to work all day, all night. A little discipline is all it takes.
It was a night like any other; I’d
just about finished with the last pile, and was heading for home.
Then I heard the scream.
It was the old lady’s cottage, down
by the other end of the wood. It was quite a distance from where I was, but years
of manual labour had strengthened me and I used it to my advantage now, as I
sprinted over. The door was locked, but I could see from the window, a large
furry hooded creature assaulting this poor old woman.
I raised my trusty axe and began
splicing open the door as fast as I could.
But alas, I wasn’t fast enough, for
by the time I’d hacked through half of the several locks… the furry hooded
creature had bundled the old lady into a cupboard, locked it, swallowed the key
and then smeared blood from a freshly killed chicken upon his jaws, and after
this show of sickening pseudo-carnivorous behaviour, he sat back and watched me
struggle with the door. I knew one thing for sure. I was gonna
wipe that smirk clean off his face.
***
“You pretentious, filthy,
foul-mouthed smut of a swine!!! How dare you attack that poor old lady and then
pretend to eat her! You…you… SICKO!!” he yelled.
“Are you quite finished? For a
common woodcutter, your grasp of vocabulary is quite impressive” said Wolfie, admiring his nails.
“What?!” squawked the woodcutter.
“Listen buddy, I’m no woodcutter – I’m a log-fuel technician! And don’t you
forget it!”
Wolfie stood up and walked up
to the woodcutter/log-fuel technician (who we shall now call Avery) and looked
him in the eye. Avery, unused to being so close to individuals other than trees
gave a quietly feminine squeal at the invasion of his personal space.
“No. You listen to ME. I’m a
cross-dressing, gender-confused vegetarian wolf. I like being happy and
cheerful. I like making earrings. And I like making new friends. Now. Is that such a crime? To live my life the way I want
to? To have the freedom of speech?! But sadly, ostracism is common among wolves
– and I have suffered at the hands of many.”
As Wolfie
spoke, something stirred inside Avery’s heart… he felt so happy, yet so sad.
The years of solitude had taken their toll on him. He had forgotten how to feel
emotion, to feel pain and love. But now, looking into Wolfie’s
shining eyes, it all came back to him.
“I have a dream…” he continued “that
all species of the earth, every living thing will live in peace and harmony. The community thriving on honesty and trust. Never again
will anyone live in fear of being eaten alive.”
Somewhere amidst Avery’s thunderous
applause for Wolfie’s impassioned speech, Double-R.H.
had arrived and she stood smouldering in the hallway.
“WHO. WRECKED.
GRANDMA’S. HOUSE. HMMM?!?!
Was it YOU?!” she whipped around and glared at Avery. “Of course it was!! Trust
a man to cause this kind of damage!!! And WOLFIE!!!
Both of you - you evil, evil invaders! Begone with ye!! BEGONE!!!” she screeched.
Avery and Wolfie
glanced at each other and they knew what they had to do. They moved towards
Double-R.H. who was still ranting and raving around in the hallway. In one
smooth motion, they caught her and stilled her kicking limbs.
“Sorry, honey, but it’s for the
best.”
“Yeah. You’ll thank us when
you’re six feet under, baby”
And with that, Avery seized his axe
and in his usual, smooth/slick/clean style, cut off her head.
After this little ordeal, Avery and Wolfie felt a certain commonality of purpose, and they
decided to set up an organisation promoting friendly interaction between
species.
And as with every story written with
the purpose of entertaining a reader and not making them cry, they all lived. Happily. Ever. After.
Too bad no one remembered to unlock
Grandma from that old cupboard. Ah well.