There Are So Many Ways to Die

The huntsman confronted me in the woods. He asked, “have you been eaten by the wolf today?” I told him no, and then he said, “Well, I have to ask that first. You understand.”

He said, “the wolf is my only enemy, and I hunt him because of that. I do not want him to eat you. I want to stop you. I want to break into you like a thief, but I couldn’t be second to him. He might have stolen what I want to take from you.”

With that he lifted up his heavy ax and split my head like a piece of wood.

As I stood there with my face cut in half, I asked “what is it you want from me?”

“I want the flower.” He said, “I want the beauty that you keep hidden.”

I looked at him. I could barely breathe, but I was able to say, “why?”

He paused and wiped the bloody ax on the bottom of his boot. “Because I have a flower inside of me, but I am afraid. I don't know how to get to it. It gets stuck in my throat and clogs up my arteries. It is the reason that I might die sooner than I choose.” He swung the ax over shoulder and looked down into the dirt where my blood was still pooling between us. “I thought if I could touch your flower --take it and make it mine– I could at least die knowing what it's like to be beautiful inside.”

“My flower is not like your flower.” It was hard to speak with my tongue in two pieces, but I managed. There’s still a little magic left in these woods.

“If I stole the flower from you, it would be mine.”

“You cannot steal my flower because it belongs to me. I made it. It’s only useful to me.” I wasn’t angry at him, but I felt like his argument for my flower was faulty. Each of us in this unnamed forest has a flower inside of us. And each flower is as different as the flowers in the wild.

He said, “look at your head. I have cut it in half. The flower is there. I can see it. It's mine.” He seemed so sure of this. I was starting to doubt what I knew to be true. Maybe he is right. But before I could give him the flower he took it. “It is more symbolic if I take it. It endears you as the victim and cements me as a villain. Of course, those who are afraid to touch their own flowers might get some inspiration from me, but cracking a little girl in the head with an ax is not an easy thing to do.”

“But you did it so effortlessly.” The blood between us spreads wider. “Why wouldn’t others see it as easy?”

“We’ll cut this from the story. I know how this story is supposed to end.”

“Pardon me, but this story has always been a lie.”

He looked up at my split head, but he found my two gazes to be a bit too much. He stepped away from me and studied my flower. He mumbled something in his wretched language and slid the flower in his pocket. It bent and lost a few petals which were immediately swallowed by the pond of blood between us.

He took the parts of me that were not cut. He cut those parts as well. And when he was done he left me in the road like kindling. I sat there with nothing left until I felt the sun turn its back on me.

In the middle of the night the other one came. HIs shadow looked huge, but at this point I didn’t trust my eyes. In fact, I didn’t trust any part of my butchered body. How could I?

The stranger picked up my pieces and took them to his home. He placed me on a rug close to the hearth. He tossed some wood into the fireplace’s open mouth and started a fire to keep us warm. He placed a screen in front of the fire. The screen was hand embroidered with a scene from another fairy tale. The one with the children and the witch. It was quite elaborate, but I found it hard to focus on anything, being chopped into pieces.

I heard him rustling around his home, opening cabinets and sliding drawers. He came back to the front room and kneeled down next to me. He carefully pulled the parts of me and separated them on the ground so it was my basic former shape. He sewed me back together. He was excellent with a needle and thread. I assumed he was the one who created the fire screen, but I never found out for sure.

He sewed my arms and legs. He sewed my liver and kidneys and heart. He tried to match the thread to my skin so that maybe no one but the two of us would know what had happened to me. He propped me up, but my head was still split. He excused himself and went towards the kitchen.

He left through the kitchen door. He was gone for a bit, but when he came back he was carrying a tiny but brilliant bouquet of the most charming wild flowers. He placed them, one flower at a time, inside of me before he sewed my face. He bit the end of the thread and pronounced me finished.

When I could see properly, I looked up into his eyes and I realized that he was the wolf. I said thank you. He said, “I am a beast. My race is not much used to kindness from humans. You would think that we would be vicious and sometimes we are. But I have had dinner tonight. I do not need to eat you.

“It was the other one that I ate. The younger one. The one with the red hood.” He paused and picked his teeth with a sharp claw. “Do not make a mistake. I am still a wolf. But you did not deserve to be cut into pieces that way. I have murdered the huntsman as punishment. The theft of a flower is too much. It deserves ruthless justice.

“I didn’t eat him if you’re wondering. I left him by a mulberry bush. The maggots and racoons will be the ones chopping him into bits and pieces. He will bother you no more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wolf.”

“Theadore.” He paused and made a sheepish grin. “If I had friends, I would tell them to call me Teddy.”

“I will. I will call you Teddy.”

“And now I would like to keep you for myself. Here in my home. To tend to me and take care of various household chores while I am outside doing my dark work.”

I felt the flowers bulging in my head. I thought my eyes might pop.

I looked into the wolf's eyes. He was nothing if not sincere. His teeth were like sharp pearls in his mouth. He was more human than most of the villains in our stories. I was so glad to be whole again. I felt a closeness because my flowers were handpicked and even more beautiful than the one the Huntsman stole. I nodded and thought, there are so many ways to die. This one seemed as good as any other.