grandma's house~

This far out in the suburbs, it is a six hour wait between stops and she has to sit on the bench for the entire six hours, soaked in her own sweat and dirt, because she just missed the first bus of the day. It's easy to imagine how she feels watching the bus drive away.

It would be easy if she had a home to go back to, but that part of her life is over and she is trying hard to put it in the back of her mind.

Her name is Tricia Delamort and she has run away from home. Not that anyone would care if she was gone. Mom was most likely off her convenience store job and is probably hanging out at the bar, a cigarette in one hand, a Jack and Coke in the other. This was about the time Mom's new husband, ten years younger than Mom and a drug abusing former sex offender, was getting off his own job at the cement factory. They would pretend she wasn�t there until some random chore was needed to be done, such as emptying all the ash trays, begging the land lady to wait another two weeks for rent, or going for more cigarettes.

Long ago, she realized she was living a stereotypical white trash home life and now the world was coming down on her. Last night, as she showered before work, her stepfather came into the bathroom. He gently pushed the curtain aside, his hand touching a bulge, and she screamed. He searched her over, but she demanded he leave. When she brought this up to her mother, Marsha Delamort screamed at her for trying to tear the family apart.

That night, after she left Weaselburger, she found three of her stepfather's greasy friends standing by her car, which she had conveniently parked in the shadows behind the burger restaurant. They wanted to give her a ride and could have done something very serious to her, but she instinctually dialed 911 on her cell phone as she walked to the car. When they came up to her and began spitting and throwing their cigarettes at her, she showed them the glowing display on her cell phone and started screaming into the phone, �There�s three creepy fucking guys attempting to rape me at the 110th St. Weaselburger! The first one is Trevor Gringham, 25, lives in Woodsboro---� and they took the hint. They smashed her window as the ran away and were later picked up by the police for harassment of a minor. And that�s what got her kicked out of her home.

This was the way things worked in the world, she thought to herself. If I had shut up and let myself be beaten and raped, I could be living at home, even if my mind would have shattered like glass.

There was no point in living there anymore, so before she began thinking that there was no point on living, PERIOD, it was time for something new. It was time to go to the person who loved her most of all.

�Where are you going, honey?� an old woman had asked her hours ago.

�I�m on my way to grandma�s house,� Tricia had said quietly, �she lives in the woods.�

She had fallen asleep. When she woke up, she noticed that the bus was already in the woods and it was now daytime. She felt something pressing against her thigh as well as that invisible feeling that something was next to her. She moved her eyes to the left quickly and saw that she wasn�t alone in the seat. Nonchalantly, trying not to look at the person, she reached between her legs and pulled her cell phone from the bag to check the time.

�Good morning,� a man�s voice said and she nearly dropped the phone to the floor.

She turned and saw a gaunt, dark man sitting next to her. �Morning,� she said. How long had he been sitting here? she asked herself, and God, he stinks! He smells like those clove cigarettes.

He was also horribly ugly, with long dark hair and a bald spot directly on top of his head. He was bent over a tattered paperback book and his lip was sagging downward as he read, almost as if he was about to let loose a fat drop of spit on the pages. He was also concentrating hard, like a toddler does when it shits in it�s diapers.

�Where are you going,� he asked, not looking up from his book.

�Relatives,� she said, checking the time on her phone. God, she thought, I hope he�s getting off soon. And he needs to stop talking to me.

�Oh,� he said and nodded with a smile, �It�s okay. I�m used to people�s preoccupation with my physical appearance.�

She turned red instantly, �Oh, I�m sorry, but I�m not like that---�

�Then why did you apologize?� he asked and that was it.

She stared out the window, feeling embarrassed. How dare he question her? And why was she talking to herself?

�So,� she said, hesitantly, �Where are YOU going?�

�Work,� was all he said.

�Oh,� she said. �And what do you do?�

�Now,� he said, closing the book and putting it in his dirty black trenchcoat, �Are we having a conversation? Can be both be more open to each other?�

She turned this around in her head a few moments. �I�m not following you.�

�I just asked where you were going, yet you thought that by my appearance, I was some dirty drifter with horrible intentions and you simply said, �relatives�, as if some tiny bit of information would reveal everything within you and could help me destroy every facet of yourself. I�m not dangerous, if that�s what you think. I may be lower class, but I�m not trash. I�m just a humble man, trying to work a decent wage and return to his previous life.�

�I,� was all she said for a while. �What was your previous life?� she asked, trying to forget the last thing he said. The last thing she needed was someone trying to make himself look like a melodramatic victim.

�I was a professor of psychology,� he said and returned to his book.

�You were a doctor?�

�I was a professor.�

�Yeah, but wouldn�t that make you a doctor?�

He squinted, �How old are you?�

�Seventeen,� she said.

�Ah,� he said and nodded. �Exactly as I thought. You rather let your age shine through. When you�ve started college, you�ll understand. But right now, you may think you�ve a hard life, but I promise you life gets far harder still.�

�I�ve had a harder life than most fifty year olds,� she said and frowned. She looked up as a street sign passed by. The next town would be her stop, but it was still going to be a half an hour drive.

�I�m sure you think so,� he said and looked down at his book, �That�s the typical teenage attitude. �We�re the victims and we�re better capable to run the world than these middle-aged people. We are the true rulers of the world� You�re more concerned who�s on the top of the Total Request Live list and how madly you�re in �love� with your current boyfriend, even though you have no idea how hard true love is. Petty...�

�No!� she said, �I�ve just had a hard life!�

�Really? You�ve had absolutely no happiness at all?� He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye.

�I�ve had happiness,� she said and looked down, �My grandma makes me happy. That�s where I�m going. She has an acreage on the outskirts of the next suburb. It�s huge...and I remember as a child that she had all this white, metal lawn furniture.�

She smiled and he put his book down again.

She continued, �Now it�s all this expensive wood crap that she bought on mark-down at Wal-Mart. But when I was a little girl, we would have tea parties out there at the white table and I had this little red dress I wore EVERY Sunday. My grandma would have all her friends and sisters over and they would treat me like a little woman, but I hated tea, so I got to drink Kool-Aid...and Ectocoolers. That made me happy. That�s why I�m going to live with her.�

�She sounds like she adores you,� he said.

�She does,� Tricia said and smiled wide. �She always spoiled me. She knows I loved music, so she�d buy me all the latest and best CDs. She never even asked ME, she just told the woman at the counter to give her three or four of the best selling ones. It was great, but she sometimes forgot and when CDs were hot for months, she�d always buy me doubles. I got The Bodyguard soundtrack, like, five times. But she knows I love red clothes, too. In fact, when I was little, she always made my clothes. She made me this really thin red coat when I was 6 so that I could keep warm when my grandpa was giving me rides on his Harley Davidson. So you know what she used to call me?�

The professor shrugged.

Tricia laughed, �Little Red Riding Hood. Isn�t that a cute name?�

He nodded and smiled to her.

They talked for a bit longer and then she turned away towards the window, telling him to wake her up when they pulled up to the bus stop near her grandma�s house. Instead of taking a light nap, she fell deep into sleep and ended up missing her stop---which meant almost 12 more hours of riding the bus until she reached grandmother�s house again. When she awoke, three hours later, the man was not next to her.

The man walked up to the first acreage on the outskirts of town that had wooden lawn furniture. The house was slightly dark as the sun was setting behind the trees, but the living room light was on and he could see a small, old woman sitting in a recliner. Another light was on above the door, most likely waiting for a little girl to come knocking.

The man walked up the front steps and knocked loudly on the door. He waited as he heard shuffling inside. A few moments later, the door opened and Grandma looked him directly in the eyes. And screamed. A hairy arm shot out and grabbed her head. The neck was twisted to the side, but Grandma was still alive as she felt the razor sharp, inch long teeth digging into her neck and claws slipping between her ribs and tearing then out. She died, gagging on her own blood, her last moments being of pure horror as she was eaten alive.

The wolf walked into the house.

Hours later, Tricia was in front of her grandmother�s house, angry and dirty and crying. She felt emotionally drained and was very close to having a break down. She needed Grandma more than anything at this point. She needed Kool-Aid and the smell of tea and Grandma�s warm smile and gentle hugs. And she needed a very long nap in a warm bed, without the stale smell of cigarettes or the constant threat of someone she hated calling her to wake up.

She dropped her bag on the front steps weakly and rang the doorbell. Nothing came from within, so she rang again. She stared at the front door for five minutes, before going around to the back door and ringing that doorbell. Still nothing. She sat in the dark behind her grandmother�s house and her heart jumped in her chest.

This was something she expected, but was horrified to realize was actually happening. It was past midnight and Grandma was gone somewhere. She could check the garage, but knew Grandma gone. She collapsed to the ground and began to sob. She hung her head as the fat teardrops fell and buried her face in her hands. After a few moments of crying, her body was so exhausted both emotionally and physically, that she retched on the lawn.

And then she heard a sweet voice from within.

She perked up a bit, wiping vomit from her face and then reaching up and spreading her hair to the sides. Grandma was home! She wiped her face off again with her red sweatshirt�s sleeve and ran up to the back door. Quickly, she checked herself in the reflected glass on the door. Her face was red from both crying and vomiting, so she waited a second for the redness to go away. Then she knocked again.

�Come in! Come in!� came a sweet voice.

She hesitated, but opened the door anyway. The house was immaculate, which she expected, though she wondered if Grandma knew that there was going to be guests, since near the front door was some cleaning supplies. She threw her bookbag by the door and called out, �Grandma! It�s me!�

�Oh!� came a shrill voice from the other room, �Is it my little red riding hood?�

Tricia grinned and opened the refrigerator. �Yeah, it�s me, Grandma, is it cool if I have a soda?�

�Oh, go ahead, sweetie!� Grandma called back, �I didn�t buy it!�

�Oh,� Tricia said and drank half the can in one long draught. Her whole body felt instantly better. The trip on the bus had been a nightmare she wasn�t looking forward to someday repeating, if Grandma kicked her out, but she was here at her childhood home and that was enough to make her forget the more than twelve hours of riding a bus.

�Where are you?� Tricia called out.

�Oh, honey!� Grandma called, �It�s past your old grandma�s bed time, now isn�t it? Why don�t you come in here and give me a kiss and then we can both go to sleep.�

�Okay, Grandma,� Tricia said and walked into her grandmother�s bedroom. �God, now that I�m here, I feel so much better. The bus stop is scary. I feel so safe now, y�know?�

�Oh Grandma,� Little Red Riding Hood said, �What a big bed you have.�

Grandma smiled and turned to the girl with her head rested on the old woman�s shoulder, �There�s so much room, though, isn�t there?�

�Yeah,� Tricia said quietly, �I miss Grandpa, though. This house just isn�t the same without him.�

�He was SUCH a great man,� Grandma said.

�Grandma,� Tricia said, �Can I ask you for a favor? Things are really bad at home...things are happening that aren�t nice...and...I need to stay here for a while. Mom kicked me out.�

�Oh, dear,� Grandma said and Tricia raised an eyebrow. It was like her grandmother didn�t care! �It�s sad, I know. These things happen in those kind of households.�

�Right,� Tricia said, �Are you okay?�

�What do you mean, dear?� Grandma asked, raising her eyebrows.

�You�re acting strange,� the girl said, pulling her head off her grandma�s shoulder. �Like you�re not even listening to me.�

�Oh dear, stop being melodramatic!� Grandma said and laughed.

�Maybe I just need sleep,� Tricia said, getting out of bed. She pulled her sweatshirt off and held it under her arm. Standing there in a sports bra, she yawned and stretched. Grandma stared at her, eyes wide, bottom lip slightly hung as if she were concentrating on the young woman�s chest. Her body shivered a second as she recognized the look as the same one the man on the bus had worn while reading his book.

�You can sleep in here if you want,� Grandma asked quietly, as if she was losing her breath. �I won�t mind.�

�Nah,� Tricia said, shrugging, �I�ll just sleep in the one above the den, like always.� She walked over to Grandma and gave her a big hug. Grandma stroked her bare back and breathed heavily into her ears. �Are you okay?�

Grandma coughed into her fist and then rubbed her throat, �I get a little congestion sometimes dear, you know?�

Tricia raised an eyebrow and then leaned forward and kissed Grandma on the forehead. �Should I get you something?�

�No, dear, I have almost everything I need,� Grandma said and kissed Tricia on the cheek.

�Okay, good night, Grandma.�

�Good night, dear,� Grandma said quietly, �I�ll see you when you wake up.�

Tricia Delamort once had a dream. In this dream, she was lying on the bed in her grandma�s den and staring out into the darkness. Suddenly, she realized that a pale man was standing above her, staring down at her, blood trickling from his bottom lip. When he saw that she was awake, his face appeared from the shadows and she took a deep intake of breath. He was furious, his face white as a ghost, his eyes bloodshot and an intense blue, his every tooth was sharp as if filed and he was screaming at her.

He was telling her that she wasn�t supposed to be awake yet. And then tried to hypnotize her back into sleep so he could finish his job, but she was fighting it! She was shaking, telling herself not to go back to sleep. But she felt herself slowly falling asleep and his teeth penetrating her stomach. And then a sucking feeling as he began to devour her insides as she was losing control of her defenses.

She woke up in a fit of horror and couldn�t sleep for two days. Sometimes, she still had the feeling when she tried to go to bed. When you�re asleep, you�re trusting your surroundings to protect you and she could never trust her surroundings unless she was at Grandma�s.

But she was awake right now and there was something in bed with her. She breathed deeply but silently, trying to guage what it was and what it was doing. She could feel the pressure and a light wheezing breathing, but it hadn�t touched her yet. She tensed herself, waiting for the inevitable touch.

But she heard the voice first.

�Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood.�

Her heart stopped. Her breath, halfway out of her lungs, froze. She tried to talk, but couldn�t at first. When her voice finally came through, it sounded like her grandmother�s: old---crackling, but terrified and in a whisper. �Who are you?�

�A special person,� the voice said, and she felt something come over her back and rest it�s face near her own. �Someone who admires you very much.� The stinking smell of his breath clogged her nostrils. It wasn�t as if she couldn�t inhale...her nose wouldn�t let her. The voice continued, �And before you ask, I think you know what I want. And this would be far easier if it were consensual.�

Suddenly, she was less than scared. She was angry. This thing, this man, hadn�t come to eat her...he had come for something far more sinister and sensitive to her. She grit her teeth and twisted her face in a scowl and asked, �What the fuck do you think you�ll gain from this?�

�Well,� said the voice, �I was thinking the fuck that I gained would be soft and slow at first and it would end with me ripping your throat out with my bare teeth. This is only a suggestion and I�m open for requests.�

�Let---�

�Except �let me go�,� he said and chuckled, then flipped her over. Before she could free her arms, he had pinned her down with both hands and was above her, looking into her eyes from the shadows of the to the nightstand with left hand. He was holding her arms, but the wrists were free room. She didn�t have to look at his face to know he was insane. His teeth were most likely a mangled, broken mess. His eyes would be wide and bloodshot; full of lust and murder. She could feel his long, greasy hair touching the sides of her face and she couldn�t stop shivering from both fear and hatred.

�Let me go,� she said and began reaching to revolve and she used this to pick up an object from the nightstand. As soon as she felt the plastic in her hand, she turned to face the man and spit upward as hard as she could. The spit smacked somewhere on his face and startled him for a second---which was how long it took her to pull her left arm free. She jabbed the object into his chest and screamed, �Don�t fucking MOVE!�

He sniffed the air. �It�s a plastic cell phone.�

But she was out from under him and slammed her elbow into his face, sending him off the bed and to the floor. She stood on the bed and froze for a moment, staring down at the still body. Her heart raced a thousand beats a minute, even as she felt like she was victorious. The body shifted and began to stand up. She leaned back and lifted her leg, then kicked the man as hard as she could, her foot flat against his face, breaking the nose instantly.

Once again, the man was on the floor, but this time very much together and screaming her name out with a trembling voice. She was past him, though, running out the door and slamming it shut. She looked up and down the hallway and suddenly wondered where Grandma is.

�What did you do to my grandmother?� she screamed, her back against the door to hold it shut. A tear welled up in her eyelid as she waited for him to speak.

He was silent at first and she could hear him shuffling to the door. The door shook hard as he slammed into it, rocking her forward and opening the door slightly. She leaned back hard and managed to get the door shut again.

�Ouch, you little...girl,� he said slowly.

�Where in the fuck is my grandma?� she screamed again, this time her eyes closed hard and tears flowed down her cheek.

�Grandma forgot to peak out of the peephole when the wolf came to her door,� the man said quietly and she could tell his mouth was against the wood. It was as if he was trying to ooze into the wood and come out the other side, his tongue in her ear. �And the fly killed the spider in it�s own parlor.�

When he could tell she was lost in tears and grief, he slammed the door open, sending the girl sprawling to the floor. She screamed and rolled twice on the carpeted floor, then jumped to her knees, forcing herself to get up.

�For a moment there, I thought you were going to suggest doing our deed on the floor,� the man said and paused just outside the light, showing a wicked grin, �It�s so boring to fuck on a bed, don�t you think?�

Her bottom lip dropped in horror when she realized that this was the man that had sat next to her on the bus. She seemed to put the story together in her head instantly. He listened to her describe the place perfectly. Then never told her when her stop was and instead, he got off at Grandma�s house. And had hours to do whatever it was he did to her grandmother.

�You,� she said without breath as she walked backward, �You fucking sick freak!�

�You know,� he said and drew out the words as long as possible, �It�s not nice for little girls to use grown-up words...especially to a grown up. It�s dis-respectful.�

�Fuck YOU!� she screamed and raised her fists.

The man from the bus walked into the light, the shadows pulling to the side like curtains as his pale face came into the moonlight. His long, black hair. Thick eyebrows. Light blue eyes that almost glowed. And a mouth full of shark�s teeth that grinned. �Fuck me?� he asked. �Oh, if you insist.�

She turned and ran again, aiming for the front door. She didn�t know if he was behind her and no sound came from behind. She saw the wooden steps that would lead her to the first floor and within a few feet from them, she would be at the front door. Somehow she felt safe when she thought about getting to the front door. But even past the front door there was still a huge front yard and a sleeping suburb beyond that. Her only luck would be to find---

Something slammed into her as she reached the front steps and she found herself hurled down the steps. She hit the wood steps three times. The first slammed her shoulder against the steps. The second time, halfway down, she crushed her leg beneath the weight of her own body as it twisted around her. The third time was just before the bottom, where she hit her face on the wood, shattering teeth on the right side of her mouth and filling her mouth with an explosion of blood. She slid the rest of the way to the floor.

Everything was spinning and her mind told her to black out. But logic and reality were seeping into her and she kept screaming at herself to keep awake. She rolled over onto her back, looking up to the top of the stairs. She could still feel blood pumping out the inside of her right cheek and drooling down her face. At the top of the stairs, the dirty man stood, staring down at her. She waited for him to say something disgusting or humiliating. Instead, he took his coat off and threw it to the side. Then he began to pull his shirt off.

It was at this minute that Tricia remembered the metal item in her pocket that had burned itself into her skin at the top of the stairs when he knocked her down the first time. She pulled out the keys and palmed them, her face twisting into a disgusting grin of blood, her eyes suddenly flaring with hatred and a tiny bit of insanity.

She looked up to the blown-up picture of her grandfather near the door to the living room and it was as if Heaven itself gave her an answer.

She ran. The cold, dewy grass of the back yard splattered as her feet hit the ground hard. Her leg exploded with pain every time she hit it, but she never slowed down. She had never run this fast with both legs in top health. In fact, she had never run this fast in her life. She could hear him breathing behind her. Her destination wasn�t the suburbs anymore. And it wasn�t the woods that surrounded the house. It was in the middle of the yard. She ran towards a little sign.

As she ran, his voice was laughing at her, mocking her. She stopped listening, both voluntarily and because her heart beat so loud in her ear that everything else was filtered out. She was so close, but she had to move quickly.

Finally, she stood on the ground and jumped up and down a few times. This strange behavior made the man stop and begin to laugh. She stared at him, her teeth grinding tightly. He gave himself some distance from her. He knew he could outrun her, so what was a few extra feet? She stared at him and her bottom lip was trembling.

�My princess, I want you to stop so I can kill you.�

She shook her head.

�You don�t have to, you know,� the man said, �I can keep you here forever. I think you would look cute in those Abercrombie and Fitch clothes, you know? My little preppy girl, with pigtails and a smile and---�

She kicked hard into the earth. He stared at her as she winced.

�Foot hurt?� he asked.

She kicked again, then again, then suddenly a divit of grass shot up from the ground and she reached down. The next event happened so quick it was over before he was cognizant of what was going on. She lifted the sod itself and then jumped down the rabbit hole beneath to whatever Wonderland was below. The sod fell back down with a �clank� and she was gone. A magician�s trick. And he suddenly became aware of her absence.

�What the hell?� he whispered and touched the ground. He yanked the sign from the lawn and read the words in the dark: Home Sweet Bomb Shelter. He threw the sign so far that it disappeared above the trees. He reached down and started to tear the grass and dirt aside. There was a glint of silver and he dug more. Before him was a silver door with a small keyhole near the handle. He tried the handle, but she had locked it behind her.

He roared, not the sound a man would make, a gutteral roar from within him, that rose from his chest and enveloped the ranch around him. Even below, in the darkness, she could hear it.

She reached the bottom of the ladder as she heard the roar. Reaching around, she found the lightswitch and was flooded with bright light. She had everything down here: food, a bed, flashlights, books and videos, a TV/VCR. Everything her grandfather would need in the event of a nuclear strike. Nothing could get in and she was 30 feet below ground. She was safe. She walked over to the TV and turned it on, turning the dial to 2. She saw nothing but black. Looking closer, she saw an object---the tree near the door to the shelter. It was a security camera she was watching this through, most likely mounted in a tree or on a lamppost in the yard.

She saw that the man was gone. She would wait here for however long she had to. The food would still be good. It was cool down here. She was safe and comfortable. When he was definitely gone, she would get out and get help. Until then, she would watch him.

Twenty minutes later, a hairy hand with long nails reached up and grabbed the face of the camera and then she was watching static. The spoonful of beans she had just shoved in her mouth dropped down the front of her chest. What the hell was that? She turned the channel and saw another view, this time from the roof of the barn. What was that? It didn�t look human! The yard was empty, but something was in the trees. She squinted her eyes and looked closely. Nothing.

And then a huge, hairy...thing...came out of the woods and stood above the door, heaving up and down. She stared at it in wonder. It wasn�t a bear. It wasn�t a man. It was something else. Suddenly, it turned to face her camera. She screamed as loud as she could and turned from the picture.

Huddled in a fetal position, she tried hard to erase the face she just saw. Wild, human eyes. Huge teeth. Pointy ears. It wasn�t real, but whatever it was, it was going to kill her. She breathed deeply and began to scream again and again, getting the terror out of her voice. When she found that her tears had stopped and her voice had failed, she squeezed the key in her hand harder.

She was safe.

She was safe.

Safe.

SAFE.

Relax.

God, it had to leave sometime.

Day would be breaking in a couple of hours and it would leave.

�I�m going to be safe,� she whispered to herself. �I�M GOING TO BE SAFE!� she screamed and turned back to the camera. The thing was shaking.

Laughing.

�Jesus, I think it can hear me when I�m yelling,� she said out loud. She squeezed the key. Only her grandmother, mother, and grandfather had ever had a key. It was grandfather�s eccentric, paranoid scheme to survive a nuclear winter and it was going to save her. Her mother didn�t have her key anymore. Grandfather�s was no where to be found. And grandmother�s...

�Oh my god,� she whispered. �Grandma�s key is still on her, wherever she is---�

The creature stood up and turned to the house.

She screamed again.

It had heard her. She turned to the wall, where a huge, blank door stared at her. Food, supplies, and entertainment were what grandfather had supplied down here. �No no no no no,� she whispered to herself. She turned to the TV and the creature was gone.

�I don�t want to die,� she whispered. �I don�t want to die, I don�t want to die, I don�t want to die...�

She ran to the door on the wall and pulled her key out. She fit it into the handlelock, a similar lock to the one on the door, and yanked the door open. Walls and walls surrounded her. More supplies. More food, more entertainment. A small warehouse.

And weapons.

She opened the door and stood in rain. In only five minutes of preparing, a storm had already come. The sun was beginning to peek above the trees to the east. She turned to the house, but there was nothing. Nothing moved in the house and there was nothing on the misty ranch grounds. The rain was so cold, but she was now wearing her grandfather�s brown bomber jacket and some of her grandmother�s jeans.

She walked slowly forward, her mind blank. She didn�t think of grandmother. She didn�t think of grandfather. She didn�t think of herself. She only thought of him. The man. His every move. And the creature, which she was certain was the man. She didn�t have time to sit and think about the logic behind it or even come up with stupid excuses. She didn�t want to think, oh, it�s the man�s dog. She had seen the face. It was human, in a way. It defied belief, but if it was a werewolf, then that�s what it was. She wasn�t born to be rational. She was born to act on heart. That�s why she skipped school and hung out with boys. Who cares about school when there�s weed to smoke?

Even if this wasn�t real, even if this was just some trick of her mind or if this was a dream---she was going to be irrational. Who cares if monsters aren�t real? If this was just some fable, then she would still survive it.

She didn�t want to die.

She cocked the shotgun in her hands and kept walking forward. Her hair was wet and hung before her eyes. Eyes that were unblinking, staring at the windows and doors of the house. Waiting for anything to move. She walked up the stairs, feeling herself become more cautious as she came closer to the house. The door was before her and she hung the shotgun slightly in one arm while reaching for the knob.

A howl came from within the house. She yanked the door open and rushed inside. There was no time anymore. She was tired of being afraid. There was something in her grandmother�s house---something few living people had ever seen. Something that had killed her grandmother and was trying to kill her. She ran down the hall towards the howling. Nothing was going through her mind, it was blank, with only a faint whispering of �I don�t want to die� being repeated over and over again.

Her footsteps were loud, but she didn�t care. Let it come to her. The gun was cocked. The safety was off. She knew how to fire a gun. That was something else her grandfather had taught her. She had never killed anything before, however. She aimed at things: birds, squirrels, a cat---but had never killed something. She always felt sorry for them.

She kicked in the living room door, which burst open and she leapt inside, waving the shotgun around, aiming it at everything she thought had moved. But there was nothing in here. Thinking it may be behind her, she whirled around and pulled the gun up to her eye level. Nothing. Breathing heavy, she realized she had just given away her position. Videogames never taught you what to do in THESE circumstances.

She slowly walked back into the main lobby near the front door. Just about an hour earlier, she had fallen down these stairs. Her mouth still hurt. She was shivering, the cold was in her clothes. It seeped through her jacket, her bra, to her skin.

And then something dropped from the second floor to the front door with a loud bang upon the floor. She almost dropped the gun, but lifted it back up and aimed at the large shape that was standing up straight near the door. It turned to her and she gasped, her bottom lip trembling. Something silver dropped from it�s clawed hand and hit the floor. Grandma�s key.

The face was staring into her eyes and she almost dropped the gun again. She felt instantly weak, staring into horrible, bloodshot eyes. The eyes framed a long muzzle filled with huge, stained teeth. It was definitely a werewolf. And from those terrible eyes and the way it seemed to stand, it was the man. She tried to squeeze the trigger, but couldn�t. She was weak with fear. She just wanted to stop and sit. Relax. Her body was telling her she was overreacting, but if she stopped now, she was giving in to him. Giving up on her own life.

And she still didn�t want to die.

She tightened her face and screamed, squeezing the trigger. The lamp near the creature exploded and the thing ran forward towards her. She squeezed again and the second barrel burst out with a loud bang and she heard a thunk, as the creature stopped. Blood was streaming down it�s face and it�s left ear was missing. She had ripped an ear off and a pellet had glanced off it�s skull. A thin wound was along one side of it�s head.

Too high, Tricia. Aim lower and to the right.

�You fucking little bitch!� it screamed, a mangled voice of man and beast that chilled her more than the cold rain that stuck to her clothes. She threw the gun at him and ran back into the living room. Behind her, she heard it roaring: �You fucking little mother fucking bitch fucking fuck fuck FUCK!� She ran through the living room, jumping over the couch, and hiding in the bathroom.

The wolf ran up to the door and stood before the bathroom door. �No more gun, you stupid little fuck!� it screamed. The wolf was about to smash the door down when it heard a voice call out.

�You shouldn�t swear in front of children,� she said behind the door, �It�s not mature.�

�No more gun!� it screamed in it�s foreign voice. Just as that was said, something ripped into it�s stomach. A half second after the ripping sensation, it heard the gunshot. It felt hot, sticky liquid running from stomach to the front of it�s legs. More gunshots. The wolf ran away from the door and hid along the wall near the bathroom, seeing things in the living room explode. A hole in the couch burst open, spitting out a small tuft of cotton. A picture on the far wall shattered. �You�re going to run out of bullets!� Just as he said this, he heard a rapid procession of clicks.

He was about to turn to the door when it burst open. Little Red turned and faced him, a huge handgun held in both hands aimed directly between his eyes. He backed slowly away and hissed at her.

�Are you a man or animal?� she asked, confidence in her voice.

�I�m both,� he/it said through grit teeth. �Do you think you�ve won? Am I dead now?�

�I think you�ve underestimated me,� she said, her face frozen with a look of both terror and determination. Maybe even a touch of madness.

�You�re out of bullets,� the creature said and rushed forward.

One. Stopped him in his tracks, but only glanced off one cheek.

Two. He felt another shot in his stomach, this one larger.

Three. His shoulder burst open.

Four. Missed. He moved forward again.

Five. Now closer, this one hit his chest and knocked him back against the wall.

She aimed the gun at his head. �New gun,� she whispered.

He stared at her and felt the wounds in his stomach tingling. He closed his eyes and felt them healing. Just a little longer and he would get his breath back.

�Do you know what it feels like to see the world of night through my eyes?� he whispered to her.

�What are you?� she asked, her voice slightly trembling.

�I�m a lycanthrope,� he whispered, �Isn�t it obvious?�

�Why are you here?�

�I�m hungry,� he whispered, feeling his muzzle shrinking. He was changing back. He stood up slowly and the aim of the gun followed his face. �I came for YOU, though. Not your grandmother. She was a snack. But you...I want you more than I�ve ever wanted anyone before. I swear to you, it�s destiny I met you, Little Red.�

�Did someone send you?� she whispered. �My stepfather?�

He shook his head. �I�m just a stranger,� he whispered, now standing at full height.

�You�re a sick man,� she said assured him. �Things like you shouldn�t exist. You�re not natural.�

�Be unnatural with me,� he whispered, �Let me make you one of mine. It�s a seductive life. Feed on those who piss you off. Fuck who you want. You�re too beautiful, Little Red Riding Hood. Don�t waste your life. I mean, what is there for you? You�re white trash! No one loves you anymore---BUT ME. Your grandmother, who you YOURSELF said was the only happiness you had left---is dead.�

�And you killed her!� she screamed.

�You�ll know what hunger is like,� he said to her.

�No, I won�t,� she whispered and began to squeeze the trigger.

But now she was too close to him. He grabbed the wrist that faced him and pulled the gun away from her. She had to let loose a finger in order to stop the gun from going off with the sudden jolt. She lifted her leg to kick him, but he clawed her face. The felt the nails slice into the delicate flesh of her face and she fell the ground. Blood was already gushing around her face and she rose the gun up to his chest and tried to squeeze. To fire the last shot into his chest.

He grabbed her wrists with his hands and forced her to the ground. Then he laughed. She felt dizzy and could barely hear him giggling to himself. She only felt blood on her face. He finished laughing and roared into her face, a triumphant bellow that shook the walls. She was losing her terror and her body was trying to go to sleep. She fought it, shaking her head.

And then he slammed his mouth to her shoulder and bit deeply into her shoulder.

�NO!� she screamed, kicking upwards weakly.

He snapped his head back, a blood and flesh between his teeth.

�STOP!� came a scream from the main hallway.

Tricia looked up through the haze and pain and saw a man standing in the doorway, a chain saw in his hand. Somewhere out in the woods was a logging company. And this man was wearing the uniform of them and carrying a very effective weapon. Her heart stopped with joy.

A woodsman had come to save her.

�Oh Jesus God!� he screamed, seeing the werewolf on the girl and then he began to scream in Spanish. He lifted the chainsaw and the wolf leaned forward. �Leave that girl alone, bear!� he screamed and ran forward.

His decision that he was saving a girl from a bear was his mistake.

The �bear� held a pistol, that it aimed at the woodsman and fired into the Spanish man�s chest. The man dropped the chainsaw and fell to his knees.

�Madre,� the woodsman whispered, then fell back to the ground.

The wolf threw the gun to the side, then faced the girl. She screamed and clawed upwards at his face, ripping a gash in the wolf�s face.

�Last one?� the wolf asked. �No more guns, love?� He held her arm down again and waited. She was going to pass out soon. He would wait for that, then begin to eat her again. He watched her blue eyes flicker and fade. �Just fall asleep, Little Red,� he whispered to her, �You won�t feel anymore pain. No more suffering. This nightmare will be over. Your shoulder is missing. You�re going to die of blood loss anyway. I�m only upset I never got to be with you while you were alive. But there�s nothing wrong with taking you de---�

And then blood was in his eyes. The deep gash she had opened in his forehead had bled into his face. He reached a hand up and wiped it. When he could see clearly, he looked straight into yet another gun being held to his face. Her eyes were still awake. Blue and steel, they stared directly into his. She fired all ten rounds of this new gun into his face and he jumped backwards, falling onto the coffee table. The table broke and he felt a very big headache.

�Last one,� she said and laughed weakly.

He could see nothing. Only feel pain. He couldn�t make any serious moves...only shudder.

�Just go to sleep,� she whispered weakly and stumbled over to him. He could feel her moving along the floor. It was his last sense of being a wolf. He had lost his amazing hearing, amazing sight, and amazing sense of smell. All had faded the instant ten tiny explosions destroyed his face forever. But he could feel.

He felt her weakly walking towards him. She was going to die; had lost far too much blood. But maybe...maybe if he waited...he could heal. It was something that had kept him alive for generations. He never grew old. He had come here from the Old Country, centuries ago, and had fed all along the way. Killed the homeless, orphaned, prostitutes. In recent years, he had killed hitchhikers, teenagers hiding from their parents in the woods, farm people far from society. He had never even been injured.

He thought he was big. He thought he was bad. No girl would kill him. He would awaken, healed and refreshed and feed on her corpse and then tear up the dead woodsman.

He heard a chainsaw rumble to life. It came closer.

�Good night,� she said in a trembling voice and he felt a sting on his neck. A sting that kept getting deeper. He couldn�t move. He couldn�t stop her.

A minute later, his head dropped to the floor and his body went limp forever. The head of the wolf slowly began to fade. It lost it�s big ears. Big eyes. Big mouth. Big teeth. It became human again. A terrified, black-haired human�s head covered in blood.

Tricia Delamort began to cry as she went dizzy. She was crying in both happiness and sadness. Whichever was dominant, she didn�t know. She faded out just as the wolf had. Falling to the ground, she lie on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her blue eyes faded as the wolf�s bite finally killed her.

She lay there, eyes wide open, a pool of blood surrounded her head like a hood.

Hours later, she blinked.

Marsha Delamort sniffed the line of cocaine and screamed, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. Everyone around her laughed and she passed the CD case to the man on her right. She didn�t know who he was; he had only been introduced to her by her husband this afternoon. But he was gorgeous, in his late thirties, and had a nice car. He also seemed to really like rolling. Any guy she could trip with was cool to her. Her husband was too young anyway. The moment he passed out, she would take advantage of this situation. The man smiled seductively at her and she giggled like a teenage girl and shoved some of her greying hair behind her ear.

�When do we start getting the money?� her husband asked from the couch across from her.

Marsha shrugged and wiped her nose. �I don�t fucking KNOW, Trevor. God, you�re so fucking insensitive, you know that!� She rose to her feet and yelled theatrically, �You are such a fucking piece of shit, you know that? Fucking worthless!� He rolled his eyes and sat back against the couch, extremely high at the moment and not willing to listen to her bullshit again. �You�re nothing, Trevor! NOTHING! I�m mourning here, mother fucking piece of shit son of a bitch!�

Trevor rolled his eyes again, �You don�t give a fuck if your mom and Tricia are dead. You care about the money. And so do I.�

�Maybe you won�t be around to spend the money!� Marsha screamed.

From beside her, her new crush spoke up, �Fuck, Trevor, you need to start treating this woman right. She�s a great girl, you need to see what you have and respect that.�

�Fuck you, Guy!� Trevor yelled and threw an ashtray at him.

�Don�t throw things at him, Trevor!� Marsha yelled.

�Oh what is this?� her husband asked suddenly. He pointed to Guy, �What, are you trying to say you wanna fuck him now? Cheat on me again? You think I�m stupid?�

Guy spoke up again calmly, �Trevor, you�re paranoid.�

�FUCK YOU, GUY!� Trevor yelled.

Marsha screamed and began to walk, her body shaking left and right. �I�m going to the bathroom, you stupid bastard! I can�t believe you�d think I was trying to fuck Guy!� She almost laughed at the end of this, but held it in. Trevor was stupid. It was time to get rid of him. She had used him enough as is.

The house her mother owned was her�s, but she hated it. It reminded her of her father, a cheap bastard who never gave her money when she really needed it. And it reminded her of her mother, a stupid bitch who thought SHE was Tricia�s mom. She was glad they were all dead. And she could sell that shitty Texan ranch and buy a new house. Double-wide trailers were a great buy and she�d have enough money to get a new car. And with her first new car, she could attract another young guy. Or Guy.

And she would be happy. She�d never have to work and she could buy a LOT of coke, acid, weed, liquor. The world was her�s, now.

She stared in the mirror at her face. Eyes sinking, bloodshot. Wrinkles. God, she looked old. She looked her age. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled some blush out. This was all she had left of the make-up she had bought five years ago. This would make her look decent, she thought. She ran her fingers through her hair. The first check she got, she�d get a haircut. She deserved it. Her daughter was a stupid whore, but it shook her a bit that Tricia was dead. It was a surprise. Although now she had much less stress in her life. And life insurance policies.

There was a muffled yell from the living room, but she ignored it. They were fighting. She knew they would. Guy would win. He was ten years older than Trevor and much stronger looking. When she came out, she would kick Trevor out. Or go with Guy and cry in his arms. Seduce him. She waited for the sound of movement outside to stop, then opened the door.

Someone was standing and someone was on the floor. Only, wait---two people were on the floor, lying as if they had been tossed to the side. The one standing was skinny, feminine and wearing black leather pants, a tight white shirt, and a leather choker. Over them, the girl wore a huge, red winter jacket. The face of the girl turned to her and she saw red all over the face and down the white shirt. Blood was all over the girl.

�Oh my god,� Marsha whispered.

�Hi Mom,� Tricia Delamort said cheerfully, her wide smile stained with blood. She took the hooded jacket off and dropped it to the floor. She was much stronger looking: small muscles on tanned skin, angular features, eyes that almost glowed. Strangest of all was the fact that her ears seemed slightly pointy, like an elf�s. And her hair was much longer. Wilder.

�Tricia,� she whispered. �You�re so beautiful...�

Tricia�s eyes seemed to glow more as her beautiful skin began to break out with hair.