Red Hood and the Blood Moon

Chapter One: 'Red Hood.'

There it was; that faint aroma of sweet gingerbread. It hovered in the air, pulling the young girl from her brutalized slumber. For a moment, it gave her peace, until the memories resurfaced with the abrupt, malodorous smell of burning meat.

Running through the woods, hand in hand with her brother. Hansel's frightened brown eyes, colliding with her twinned gaze, widened with shock as they smelt that pleasant mist, leading them to a magical home, entirely made of their wildest dreams. Candies of every color, and cakes of every fragrance. But the scent of gingerbread-their mother's favorite evening supper-overpowered the rest.

The children ran to the house, eager to taste the unbelievable walls and candy flowers, but as they ripped the bread from the door, it creaked open and a warm fire gleamed in their eyes. And then there was that sound, a thunderous cackle that rode with loud, ominous footsteps. A hand emerged from the inside; it was green in color and riddled with large, pulsing veins, and bumps the size of their noses. A crooked and chippy smile emerged from the darkness, owned by a woman draped in purple rags and knife-sharped claws.

"Silly children. Are you lost?"

That was the only thing she said to them before her claws were latched into their flesh and their screams were silenced behind the gingerbread door.

Gretel opened her eyes; startled by her brother's screaming. The horror struck her harsher than any lightning could. For it was not burning meat she smelled, it was skin. The woman turned to her as she forced herself on wobbly legs, barely open to stand with the concussion she'd cursed her with. Blood burned her eye sockets, but the reality was still clear. It was not a woman who'd kidnapped the children, but a man-eating witch. Her laughter was that of a sauna, revealing what bubbled between the jaws of her oven.

Pure joy riddled the witch's soul as Gretel shrieked with pain and despair, powerless to stop her brother's skin from melting above the raging blaze.

"Hungry, my dear?!"

Bile bittered the little girl's throat as she forced herself forced forward. Her strength was non-existent, but that didn't stop her from grabbing the first sharp edge she could find. The witch chuckled as she held the knife at her, barely able to keep the blade in the air. Grabbing her arm, the witch flicked her wrist and snapped it with ease. Her bone dared to tear her skin open; Gretel screamed desperately as she lifted her feet from the ground.

"Help. Somebody, please... help us!"

Ignorant of her pleading, the witch unhinged her jaw, eager to swallow the girl raw. But something stopped her; the sound of a loud knock on her door. Her smile stretched to her ears before she flung Gretel into the wall.

"More children... more meat."

Ecstatically, she walked to her door as quickly as she could, nearly ripping it from its hinges. But there wasn't anyone there. Instead, a basket with a red handkerchief sat on the highest step.

"What?"

She bent down and picked it up. It was as light as a feather, as if nothing was inside. But when the witch pulled the handkerchief away, she was horror-stricken by what she saw. A bright scarlet mist was spread into her face before she could launch the basket into the forest. The moment it hit her nose, the witch screeched in agony and fell on her back. She crawled away as quickly as she could, but it had already latched itself to her, burning her from the inside out.

Gretel watched with astonishment as every bump on her skin popped and scarlet puss leaked from every open wound. It was fascinating, watching her fall into desperation, clawing at her skin for the pain to stop. It took her a few seconds before she leaped to her feet and limped over to the oven. Hansel's right arm and leg had been severely burned. Half of his face would be scarred for a lifetime, but he would live to tell the tale.