fangs and False Smiles

I remember the taste of blood. That’s how I’ll begin because it’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? The blood, the carnage, the hunt. You think you know me, the Big Bad Wolf, the beast that haunts the dreams of children and prowls the darkest corners of the forest. But let me tell you a different tale—one that doesn’t end with a hunter’s axe in my back or a belly full of stones. No, my story is much darker than that, and it begins long before a little girl in a red cloak came skipping through the woods.

Do you know what it's like to be born a monster? To come into a world that has already decided what you are? From the moment I took my first breath, I was hunted. My kind were branded as demons, bloodthirsty beasts to be slain on sight. The villagers tell stories of wolves like me—twisted, savage, and ravenous for human flesh. But they never tell you why.

It wasn’t always like this. Once, the wolves were the protectors of the forest, guardians of the old ways. We kept the balance between the wild things and the human world. But men are creatures of fear, and fear breeds hatred. The humans could not abide by our power, our knowledge of the ancient magics that even their priests had forgotten. So they turned against us, waged a silent war. They came with their axes, their torches, driving us deeper into the shadows, killing us one by one.

Do you want to know what I remember most about those days? The sound of my brothers and sisters howling in agony, the scent of their fur burning, the way their eyes dulled as the life drained out of them. I was the youngest, the weakest, and I watched as my family was slaughtered for the crime of being born different. 

I escaped, but I was alone. There is a special kind of madness that comes with loneliness, with being hunted. I became the thing they said I was, the monster in the dark. But even monsters have a purpose, and mine was simple: to survive.

Years passed, and the forest became my kingdom. Every tree, every shadow was my ally. The humans feared the woods, feared me, and that was how I liked it. Until she came along.

I smelled her before I saw her—a mix of wildflowers and sweetness, a scent that had no place in the depths of the forest. My stomach growled, and I confess, the hunger gnawed at my insides, but it wasn't just for flesh. No, this hunger was deeper. The hunger for revenge, for justice.

I tracked her for hours, slipping through the underbrush like a ghost. She was humming, a soft, lilting tune that made my ears twitch. A girl alone in the woods, wrapped in a bright red cloak that seemed to defy the gloom around her. I watched her, every step she took, every careless skip as if the world were her playground. She was young, perhaps eight or nine, with eyes as bright as a summer sky and hair like spun gold.

I almost pitied her. Almost. But pity is a weakness I cannot afford. You see, I knew who she was. The villagers called her Little Red Riding Hood, but I knew her true name. She was the granddaughter of the old witch, the one they called Granny. The healer of the village, the woman who had betrayed my family, who had led the hunters to our den with promises of potions and spells. This little girl was her blood, her legacy.

The crone was clever, more dangerous than any hunter. She had found a way to cloak herself, to blend in with the humans, but I had not forgotten. My rage had simmered for years, a slow-burning fire waiting for the right moment to consume. And now, fate had delivered that moment to me on a silver platter.

“Hello, Mister Wolf,” she said, turning suddenly. Her voice was soft, melodic, but there was a sharpness beneath it, like the edge of a blade. She was not afraid of me. That should have been my first warning.

“Hello, little girl,” I replied, slipping into the guise of the friendly, bumbling beast. “Are you lost?”

Her eyes sparkled, blue and cold, like the heart of a glacier. “No, I’m not lost. I’m going to my grandmother’s house. She’s sick, so I’m bringing her treats.”

How quaint, I thought, suppressing a growl. She was leading me to the very place I wanted to go. But I had to be careful. I had underestimated humans before, and it had cost me dearly. 

I smiled, all teeth and charm. “The woods are dangerous for a child alone,” I said. “Perhaps I should escort you.”

She laughed, a sound too brittle for a child’s lips. “I’m not afraid of the woods,” she said, and there was something in her tone that made my fur stand on end. “Or you.”

She turned and skipped away, as if I were nothing more than a harmless stray. I watched her go, the red cloak billowing behind her like a warning flag. But I took a different path, one faster and darker, slipping through the secret ways of the forest that only I knew. 

I reached the old woman’s cottage long before the girl. It was a quaint little shack, all roses and ivy, with smoke curling from the chimney. But I knew better than to trust appearances. This was the lair of a witch, after all.

The door creaked open, and there she was, the old hag herself. She hadn’t aged a day since I last saw her, her eyes still bright and cruel, her hands still nimble as she stirred a pot of something foul-smelling. 

She looked at me, not with fear, but with recognition. “So, you’ve come at last,” she said, her voice like the rasp of dry leaves. 

“I’ve come for justice,” I snarled, my teeth bared. But she only laughed.

“Justice?” she mocked. “What would a beast like you know of justice?”

I lunged at her, but she was faster than I remembered, darting behind her cauldron, muttering words in a language older than time. The air crackled with magic, the scent of burnt herbs and something darker filling the room. But I was done waiting, done being afraid. I tore through her spells like cobwebs, my jaws closing around her throat. Her blood was bitter, tainted with centuries of dark magic, but I didn’t care. I tore her apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a bloody mess on the floor.

But my revenge was not yet complete. I remembered the girl, the innocent mask she wore, the cruelty in her eyes. I would take her next, make her pay for the sins of her bloodline. I stripped the old woman’s skin, wore it like a cloak, and settled into the bed, waiting.

When Red finally arrived, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room. “Granny?” she called, stepping inside. “Are you feeling better?”

I turned to her, smiling with borrowed lips. “Much better, my dear. Come closer, let me see you.”

She approached, her steps slow and deliberate. There was no fear in her eyes, only a strange curiosity. She came right up to the bed, her scent filling my nostrils. I could hear her heart beating, steady and strong. 

“What big eyes you have, Granny,” she said, her voice laced with something dark, something hungry.

“The better to see you with, my dear,” I replied, trying to mimic the old woman’s wheezing tones.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against my borrowed skin. “What big teeth you have…”

The room seemed to darken, the shadows twisting around her like a living thing. Before I could move, before I could even think, she smiled, revealing teeth as sharp and cruel as my own. 

“Much better to eat *you* with,” she whispered, and then the world exploded in pain.

She was not human. She was not even a witch. She was something else entirely, something that had been hiding behind a mask of innocence, biding its time. Her small hands became claws, her eyes glowing with an unholy light. I fought, but it was like fighting smoke and shadow, every bite, every slash passing through her as if she were made of mist.

In the end, she devoured me, piece by piece, and I was helpless, trapped in a nightmare from which there was no waking. 

And now I am nothing but a spirit in the woods, a ghost in a place that no longer belongs to me. They still tell stories about the Big Bad Wolf, about how I was the monster. But you know the truth now, don’t you? 

The real monster wears a red cloak, and she is still out there, waiting for her next victim. So beware, little ones, when you walk through the forest. The wolves are not your enemies. But her? She is the darkness that wears a smile, and she will eat you alive.