A scavenger hunt contest!

Welcome to another edition of Sweets Galore, where if you want you can participate in a contest that my friend eshy is hosting. She's invited along other bloggers, including yours truly to join in with her. So here it is. 

Scavenger hunt- n. a game in which individuals or teams try to locate and bring back miscellaneous items on a list.

This online scavenger hunt has the same idea. But you’ll be hunting for bold words. It starts here: http://eshysletters.wordpress.com/ where you need to find the one bolded word throughout the post. Write it down somewhere. Then go on to the next blog in the hunt by clicking the link at the bottom of the post that will take you to the next one. Find the bold world and then go onto the next. Eventually you’ll be led back to http://eshysletters.wordpress.com/  where you’ll find a fairytale (The Wise Little Girl) with a few words missing and replaced with blanks. Copy and paste that fairytale into an email. Unscramble the order of the bold words you’ve found and pop them into the blanks. Put “Once Upon A Time” as the subject of the email and address it to eshydog2@gmail.com. To be entered to win you must have the correct words in the correct order sent in an email by July 2^nd. If you have the bold words in the correct order you’ll be entered to be drawn at random for a limited edition book of fairytales and rewritten versions of the very same classics along with a handwritten letter from eshy. Any questions, email eshy. More details and the complete rules are also on eshy’s post. Happy hunting everyone!


If you figured out by now about every one of the bloggers participating had to write a fairy tale retelling based off of an original fairy tale. And the fairy tale that I got is...

source

Where I base it off of the original tale by Charles Perrault not the Grimms Brothers. They wrote Little Red Cap which is based off of the fairy tale by Charles Perrault. 

Now enjoy ~

Once upon a time, there was a sound.

Snap.

She whipped around faster than you can say elle a vu le loup. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears; her eyes flickered everywhere finding… nothing. She let out a small gasp of relief and continued on her way to grandmother’s house.

Snap.

It was that sound again and this time it was much closer. She stops walking and stands still. A familiar tingling sensation was dancing around on her skin. The breeze blows and she smells something smoky, reminding her of childhood days of when she used to eat grandmother’s cooking with her best friend.

Crunch.

She did not dare turn around instead she reveled in the way her heart started to skip a beat and her palms started to become clammy. She held her breath and smiled when a familiar pair of hands covered her eyes from behind.

 “Guess who?” he breathed into her ear.

~.~.~

She woke up the name Lawrence was on the tip of her tongue. Breathing heavily, she still felt his touch on her skin. Palms still clammy heart still skipping a beat; she let her mind repeatedly play the dream. A hint of nostalgia was in the air as she started to think about Lawrence. Letting her thoughts shift to memories, she got out of bed, not ready to start the day without him by her side.

                Washed and dressed she went into the kitchen wondering what mother has decided to come up with this morning. What she saw though was not the happy mother that was cooking the usual porridge that should be in the not empty pot. Instead, she saw a rare site that has been occurring more often ever since her father has died.

                “Mother?” says the girl going over to her red-eyed mother. Who was staring at nothing but memories that has promised to haunt her, to hurt her, to break her, and to kill her, in a slow but painful way.

                “Mother?” says the girl again worried. The mother still not hearing her daughter begins to cry, the memories becoming too much.

                “Oh mother,” says the girl hugging her mother gently. She comforts her mother waiting until she cried her eyes out which was not long.

                “Maisie?” her mother looks up at her confused. She blinks quickly, loose strands of her blonde hair falling into her pale, aging face.

                “Yes mother?” Maisie sighs, brushing away her mother’s loose strands with one hand and grabbing her mother’s hand with the other. “What is it that you need?”

                “W-What was I doing this before this?” she asks a bit blankly. Maisie does not respond. Therefore, she prepares to make the porridge, leaving her mother to explain that question to herself.

                Once the porridge was made and her mother starting to become herself again, silence started to bloom. It was not easy to stand the silence especially if you were Maisie who does not like silence at all. Therefore, in an awkward attempt to lighten the room up Maisie began talking about how she missed her childhood. This in truth was not helping matters at all.

                “Remember when father used to take us into town and-”

                “Then came the big bad wolf to take all that away,” says her mother in a bitter tone. Maisie flinches and looks down into her porridge, hurt that her own mother would say that. While her mother continues on, not aware of the hurt Maisie was experiencing right at that moment.

 “Leaving us all with this and with no money left whatsoever. That is a sign of a bad father, Maisie, leaving behind everything except the money. Money that can surely help us survive in this world, money that can help us buy something better that is not porridge, money that can send you to a proper school. Mo-”

 “And to leave behind my friends?” says Maisie distraught. Her mother stops talking and finally notices Maisie. She sees the hurt in her daughter’s eyes and the anger that has slipped in. Sighing she forces a tight smile onto her lips and pats her daughter’s hand gently.

 “No honey, I didn’t mean that kind of school,” she says in a sugary sweet voice, “I meant the one that g-grandmother went to. You know the one on the other side of town.” Maisie stares at her mother knowing she meant the one in the next town over. The one where it is an all girls’ school with no boys allowed. Meaning no Lawrence. Maisie’s mother sighs knowing her daughter was not fooled, and starts talking about grandmother instead.

 “You know Maisie, your g-grandmother,” she swallows and blinks quickly sad that she is even talking about this. “You know...”

 “What’s wrong with grandmother?” asks Maisie suddenly worried. Her mother just stares at her not daring to respond. Maisie stares back patient and worried.

 “Mother,” she says again, in a slow and serious tone, “What is wrong with grandmother.” Her mother sighs knowing that she was going to find out anyways.

 “Grandmother is sick, Maisie, really sick. The village doctor does not know what is wrong and...” she swallows, blinking quickly again. That fails; a single tear falls down into her porridge. Maisie is sad to see her only mother end up this way. Therefore, she stands up and walks over to hug her mother.

 “Do not worry, mother, I’m sure that grandmother will be okay. She always ends up okay, she is our survivor, remember?” her mother nods crying a bit now, not bothering to hug her daughter back. “In fact, I will go and check up on her to make sure that she isn’t... dead yet,” says Maisie starting to choke up a bit herself. The mother nods again knowing her daughter would say that. So, without further ado she stands up and goes over to the nearest cupboard removing the last bits of their precious cake and wine. Maisie watches with feeling sadder than before knowing how hard it must be for her mother to rid herself of those items. She watches her mother wrap those precious items up with the last nice table cloth they have and put it in a basket that was sitting nearby.

“Mother, are you sure?” asks Maisie coming over to pick up the basket. Her mother nods not looking up, her hands are like claws desperately holding onto the edge of the counter top. Her breathing was forced as she focused on the goal to not cry again in front of her daughter. Maisie saw through it all and was about to hug her mother again but before that can happen, her mother started to stand up straighter. Dusting off her nightgown and clearing her throat like she was one of France’s royalty she walked to a small corner of their cottage stopping at a black chest.

The black chest holds all of their memories from their short life spent together. On rainy days, they would find themselves pouring over it, filling the cottage with a hint of nostalgia that was almost too much to bear. However, since their beloved husband and father figure died the black chest has opened less and less until it never opened at all, even on rainy days. Maisie’s mother stoops down and with delicate fingers works the red knot that has been tied a bit too tightly. Maisie watches confused as to why her mother would want to go over past memories now when grandmother was ill and is maybe lying on her deathbed right now.

Before she can ask her mother, what she is doing though, her mother has finished untying the tight little red knot and has just started to open the chest. Coughing and waving away the dust that comes when things go unused for too long she dives in and grabs the most recently added item. Maisie gasps nearly dropping her basket when she sees what her mother is holding.

“Mother, you can’t go out there wearing your red cloak. People will surely start forming a mob and start running after you, demanding you to burn at stake immediately,” she says quickly in a worried tone. Her mother chuckles staring at her daughter with a relaxed face that only crazy people have, knowing they are going to do something quite mischievous.

“But mother what about the things that people say about you, you know the-”

“Tick tock/ the one in red/ has gone quite mad/ Tick tock/ Avoid her/ because she has gone quite mad. You mean the tick tock one, Maisie?” says her mother smiling a bit. Maisie nods, speechless that her mother actually knew the words that are being said about her. Her mother sighs chuckling a bit at her daughter’s lack of words. “Maisie if there are words being said about anyone, I’m usually the first one to know, even if it is about me. Now come over here if you know what’s good for you,” she says in an excited tone. Maisie stares at her mother wondering how she can be sad one moment to annoyed and bitter in the next moment then to light and happy. Her mother stares back patient, the dust around her was starting to settle down. The red cloak lays limp in her mother’s arms waiting to be worn again.

After a short while, Maisie sighs and walks over to her mother. Her mother smiles while putting the red cloak onto her daughter’s shoulders. Once done her mother forces Maisie to turn around so she can admire her daughter from all angles. The red cloak though a bit stiff in some areas fit like Cinderella’s shoes on Maisie. It hugged her in just the right places, yet it was not that revealing which is a mother’s dream comes true for her daughter. Maisie’s mother smiles ignoring the scowl on her daughter’s face and before Maisie knew what was coming to her; she found herself in one of her mother’s rare hugs. Maisie a bit surprised, hugs back confused at her mother’s behavior.

“I love you my sweet little daughter,” says her mother in a soft voice.

“I-I love you too,” Maisie says starting to choke up a bit.

“And just remember that I’ll still love you even if you… died,” she says starting to choke up a bit herself. “Now go and see if g-grandmother is okay, and remember,” she says untangling herself from Maisie and pushing her out the door.

“Remember what?” asks Maisie but in response to that question, she gets pushed outside and a door slamming in her face. She blinks wondering what is wrong with her mother today and then starts to wonder if she has always been that way without her realizing it. Sighing from the oddity of it all she turns around and goes on her way to the woods towards grandmother’s house. She half expected a mob to pull up, drag her to a pile of wood, and burn her. Only no one was out just yet, they were probably still setting up their market stalls, getting ready to go out, making breakfast, going to school, or they were doing their chores like every good citizen should do.

Keeping a sharp eye out, hugging the basket close to her body, and walking as quickly as possible, she makes it to the safety of the woods that outlines the edges of the outskirts of her village. Letting out a small gasp of relief, she stops and looks around seeing nothing but the thin pale brown branches holding up the small leaf buds that are close to becoming a full bloom adult once the weather becomes warmer. She looks around her to make sure, no one was following her, satisfied she walks deeper into the woods, putting up her hood realizing how much warmth the trees took away.

It was silent for a while; the birds sang its morning melodies. The bugs were off in their own world working. The animals were either sleeping or hunting fully aware of every little thing around them. The trees whispered their daily secrets to each other. The ground looking brown and green were busy creating life that did not dare let blind eyes look in. 

Crack

She whipped around, wondering who was following her. Her eyes flickered everywhere finding nothing out of the normal. Maisie took a couple of deep breaths thinking herself silly for thinking that anyone would follow her. She was not some weak prey that deserved to be followed; she was a young girl in red, red that was hopefully bright enough to blind the nearest predator in view.

Sighing, she warily began to make her way down the beat down forest path that was made by others before her. Others that were lost to wherever they were going, only Maisie was not lost exactly; she did know where she was going, in a way. Her eyes were examining every leaf on the trees and bushes as well as the ground she was stepping on. Her steps were slow and deliberate, her mind was trying to remember which tree and bush was familiar, and which ones are not.

Maisie stops at the edge of a clearing; head titled to the side, hands gripping the basket handle tightly, and listened. Everything was quiet; the birds seemed to be holding their breath. The animals sounded like they were playing dead. The trees seemed to be holding still, and for a minute, the air turned icy cold. Maisie shivered involuntarily despite her red cloak, and turns to look behind her. The beat down forest path she was on and the trees she just passed stares back at her.

Blinking in surprise, she lets herself relax a little bit; she tells herself that she is acting too aware of everything. Turning back around, life starts to make its usual noises again. She starts to walk across the clearing closing her eyes enjoying the warmth of the sun. She imagines Lawrence by her side right this moment. His was breathing slow and even, a steady beat in her crazy life. She imagined his brown hair, falling into his face, then smiled when he ties it up with a piece of leather he found while working. She can almost hear him muttering that one day he will cut it all off when he gets the chance. It felt like he was right there with her at that moment and if she opened her eyes it will end up true.

“Hello stranger,” says a familiar voice. Maisie stops not daring to let her hopes up despite what her heart says and opens her eyes. She was close to the other side of the woods but a lone grey was blocking the pathway. He was smirking in a lazy manner sizing the new girl up, wondering if she will be a manageable meal, before noticing, that she was holding a basket that was full of better food. Maisie blinks wondering where the wolf has come from because she remembers not seeing him right there before.

“Who are you?” she says in a curious tone.

The wolf stands up on his four legs and stretches taking his time with the answer. Maisie watches still more curious than scared waiting for him to respond.

“He reminds me of someone,” she thinks to herself, “but whom?” The wolf slowly goes over to Maisie, circling around her, smelling her curiosity, and wondering how he can use that to his advantage. “Who are you?” she asks again when he does not bother responding. The wolf smiles and laughs a chilling laugh that makes the little hairs on your chinny chin chin raise up in fear.

 “Why little girl as you can see, I am a simple talking wolf. Why ask a ridiculous question anyways when you see the answer in front of you?” he says the last part in a mocking tone. Maisie simply blinks not fully aware of the fear the wolf is emitting. “Well?” he says when she does not respond for a while. Maisie blinks again starting to understand that the wolf was talking to her.

“Pardon me?” she says. The wolf sighs still circling around her, deciding to talk about something else.

“So tell me little girl, are you the new girl in red?”

“I-I guess so,” she says blushing a bit wishing that she had worn her black cloak instead of her mother’s red one.

“Ahh are you too going off to kill some poor unlucky lad that has fallen desperately in love with you?” he says smirking again in his chilling way.

“What?” asks Maisie confused by what the wolf had meant.

“Ohh you haven’t heard?” he says chuckling delightfully, happy to be the one telling her the news.

“Heard what Monsieur Wolf?” she says curious to hear what he has to say.

“The last person that was wearing a red cloak like yours...” he pauses for suspense, “killed her husband head to toe with only an ax to help her.”

“What,” she says not understanding the words he was saying. The wolf laughs still circling around her in a slow, lazy manner.

“Oh you heard me. The last person that wore a red cloak went… crazy. Crazy enough to kill her husband with a simple little ax over…” he trails off smirking a little. This makes Maisie wonder if he even knows what the crazy woman was killing her husband over for. “But you’re not going to be like her, I can tell. You are going to be something different ending in more formal way.” Maisie watches the wolf transfixed and not really paying attention to his words. The way he moves around her with his tail sashaying in the air keeps on reminding her of someone. Someone important, someone loving, someone that was like her in ways that she did not find important, someone like…

“Oh little girl have you heard a thing I said?” the wolf says in an impatient tone. Maisie shakes her head going back to reality away from thoughts and dreams.

“Huh?” she says indicating that she has not been listening.

“Where are you going carrying such a heavy basket filled with cake and wine, it must be for someone important if you are willing to do so much for them?”

“Oh, well I am going to see my grandmother monsieur. She is sick and mother says I should bring cake and wine to help her feel better,” she says not seeing the way his eyes lit up when she said this.

“That is very sweet of you little girl your grandmother and mother will be very proud of you. Where does your grandmother live that require you to walk so far?” said the wolf in a genuinely curious voice.

“She lives in the cottage by the two lonely little trees that are near the river, monsieur,” she says pointing her finger in the right direction.

“That is a pretty far ways away, I know a small flower patch that you can stop at to pick your grandmother some very beautiful flowers. I’m sure she will love that little girl.” Maisie nods excitedly knowing that her grandmother loves fresh wildflowers. Therefore, without missing a beat the wolf tells her where the small patch of flowers is located. The two bid goodbye and begin their way: Maisie to her grandmother’s house stopping at the flower patch the wolf has mentioned to pick some flowers and the wolf to the grandmother’s house for a surprise visit of his own.

~.~.~.~

Maisie sighs as she picks up flower after flower knowing grandmother will be happy to receive them. The wolf was far away in her mind just as far away she was from her grandmother’s house at the moment. The only thing that was on her mind now was Lawrence and the memories that they shared together. Moreover, it saddened her to know that he was not right there by her side picking flowers with her, telling her his dry jokes that he has thought up a moment ago.

“Please just come back from wherever you are,” she thinks, wishing very much for him to hear her now. “I-I miss you and it is not the same without you here.” But she soon forgets him as more flowers pile up.

~.~.~.~

“Grandmother, it is I your granddaughter,” says the wolf mimicking Maisie’s voice once he has arrived at the cottage by the two lonely little trees that are near the river. He has knocked on the door as softly as he can for fear the grandmother can tell who is at the door by the sound of their knocks.

“Maisie, is that you Maisie?” says a hoarse voice from the other side of the door.

“Yes it is Maisie, dear grandmother. I have bought you some cake and wine to help you feel better.”

“Good, good, pull the bobbin and the latch will go up.” The wolf did what he was told and opened the door to find everything completely in the dark.

“What a better plan than I can ever hope it to be,” he thinks to himself, smirking a little as he went towards the only bed in the room, using the light from the open door to help guide him. The grandmother has her eyes closed, her chest going up and down in a steady motion, confirming that she is indeed asleep. A small smile is on her face, as she dreams of being young and healthy again playing with her red cloak that her own mother has given to her once she has turned thirteen; forgetting that her ‘granddaughter’ is here in the room with her.

With a quick swipe of his paw, a thin yet lethal line appeared on the grandmother’s neck. Before she can take one last breath, death has already overcome her. And before anything can be figured out the wolf takes off her nightclothes, dresses into them before dragging the grandmother’s dead body over to the cellar, and dumps it inside. Where it now lays with the rest of the jam and strawberry preserves that has not seen human life in three years. It all caused a bloody mess but before the wolf can clean it up, he closes the door and goes under the blankets on the bed, laying as still as possible.

Maisie smiles a little as she picks up the very last lilac decides that is enough. Groaning a bit, she puts her giant stack of flowers on top of the basket and continues on her way to grandmother’s house. The trip was made longer than usual because of the heavy stack of flowers that Maisie has decided to pick up for her grandmother. Finally, after some time, she reaches the cottage by the two lonely little trees that are near the river. She knocks on the door oblivious to the scratch marks that are right in front of her.

“Who is it?” asks the wolf mimicking her grandmother’s voice.

“It is I Maisie, your granddaughter. I have bought you cake and wine for I have heard you are filling ill grandmother,” she says in confident voice.

“Good, good, pull the bobbin and the latch will go up.” Maisie pulls on the bobbin, opening the door.

“Grandmother, why is everything so dark?” she says stepping inside the dark room glad for the light of the open door. The wolf unsure of how to answer, coughs feigning to be sick.

“Oh grandmother, are you okay? Do you want your cake and wine?” she says going over to the bed where the wolf is. The wolf coughs again unwilling to talk for fear that Maisie will find out it is he and not her grandmother.

“Grandmother?” she says confused as to why her grandmother has not spoken yet.

“Ahh, put the,” cough, “cake and wine on the floor,” cough, “and come into bed with me.” Maisie nods a bit confused but does as her grandmother says. Once in bed, Maisie starts to observe her grandmother thinking how different she is in her nightclothes.

“Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she says casually pointing it out. The wolf coughs a bit before answering.

“The better to see you with my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big ears you have.”

“The better to hear you with my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big… arms you have.”

“The better to hug you with my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big claws you have.”

“The better to write to you my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big legs you have.”

“The better to run with you my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big teeth you have!” Maisie exclaims amazed by their sharpness.

“The better to eat your cake and drink your wine with, my dear,” says the wolf abandoning the grandmother accent. And before Maisie can figure out what has happened to her, the wolf quickly swipes his claw across her neck. Blood starts to flow down and before Maisie can scream in pain, she falls down dead. The wolf smirks a bit surprised at how easy it all was. He ditches the nightclothes and begins to eat the cake and drink the wine celebrating the death of two girls that has worn the red cloak and used to be called: Little Red Riding Hood.

The next blog you're supposed to go to is... http://eshysletters.wordpress.com/

Now please enjoy some Little Red Riding Hood trivia if you're staying. 

source

Trivia source

1. Name: In some accounts, the name of the girl in red riding hood is Maisie.
2. A tale of seduction: A French engraving that accompanies the first published version of the story (1697) shows a girl in her déshabille, lying in bed beneath a wolf. The story says that she has just strips out of her clothes and joins the beast in bed, whom she thinks is her grandmother.This is Charles Perrault’s version (Le Petit Chaperon Rouge). The wolf’s act of “eating” is sometimes interpreted as a metaphor for sexual assault.
3. Lost Virginity: Because of this tale, the popular slang elle a vu le loup, which translates to “she’d seen the wolf”, is an expression commonly used when a girl loses her virginity.
4. Color of Sin: Still in Perrault’s story, the color red of the hood signifies the girl’s “sinful nature”. Perrault said that red symbolizes scandal and blood, which in turn implies the girl’s sin and her impending fate in the hands (or jaws) of the wolf. Some versions said this symbolizes rape.
5. Wolves in Court? In the earliest versions of the tale, the antagonist is sometimes portrayed as an ogre or a werewolf (also known as a ‘bzou’). This makes the story a bit relevant in a time where inquisitions and witch trials are rampant as well as trials for werewolves (see the case of Peter Stumpp).
6. No happy-ever-after: Little Red Riding Hood was intended to teach children and well-bred young ladies the danger of talking to strangers. In the Brothers Grimm’s desexualized/sanitized version, a hunter or a last minute rescuer comes for the heroine; in the earlier versions, she is just devoured by the wolf, and no rescuer came.
7. Cannibalism: In an Austrian version, the grandmother is eaten by the wolf before Little Red Riding Hood arrives. Granny’s entrails are used to replace the string on the door latch and her teeth, jaws and blood stored in her cupboard. When Little Red arrives, she is hungry and so is directed to eat her dead grandmother’s teeth (rice) and jaw (chops) and drink her blood (wine). 
8. Variations: Since then, a lot of other writers create their own versions of the tale. There is one where there is striptease or defecation involved; there’s one where the werewolf is a vegetarian and the heroine is a lesbian; there is also a version where Little Red Riding Hood kills the wolf with a revolver.

 Love,

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