Little Red Riding Hood

An icy chill crawled up my spine like thousands of tiny spiders as I stepped out of the cab. The cold New York wind nipped hungrily at my flesh and I grinned as a group of pre-teens ran screaming when they caught sight of me. The oldest -- a girl wearing a pointy black hat, a long black robe and pointy black shoes -- clung to her young sister's hand as she pulled her along the crowded sidewalk and through the throngs of people, the small child preoccupied only with the candy inside her pumpkin-shaped pail.

I couldn't help but smile knowing I had pulled off the perfect look for tonight's costume contest: A demonic witch. I sported a floor-length red coat with a red hood, a long black wig with a long strand of white hair hanging down one side, white makeup, heavy black eyeliner an inch wide around my eyes, and blood trails from my eyes and fangs. I looked like the product of a vampire and a witch. Only angrier. And underneath my coat I wore the naughtiest red negligee complete with garter belt, fishnet stockings, and 3" red stilettos. I might have looked like the devil, but I had the body of an angel!

As I pulled my coat tighter to block out the wind, I heard some adults questioning whether I was a man or a woman. I turned my head toward the sound of the conversation and hissed loudly, causing people to jump and laugh nervously as they moved out of the way. Oh, what a fun night this was turning out to be.

As I approached the grand hotel building where the contest was being held, I heard a tiny child's voice excitedly exclaiming , "Mommy! Mommy! Look! It's Wittle Wed Widing 'hood!"

Signs in the hotel lobby announced the location of the contest: The penthouse suite on the top floor of the hotel. The sign also stated "Cash Prizes: $500 - Winner, $250 -2nd Place, $100 - 3rd". I could barely contain my excitement as I approached the wall of elevators and pressed the "UP" button.

I received a text message as the elevator doors dinged and swooshed open, and I pulled out my phone and began reading the text as I entered the elevator and walked to the back of it. The text was from my friend Carrie telling me she was upstairs and had a seat saved for me and to hurry up. The contest was about to start!

I was a little preoccupied responding to Carrie's text, but somewhere behind me I could still hear the excited child's voice getting closer and closer, "Wittle Wed Widing 'hood! Wittle Wed Widing 'hood!!" I was also semi-aware of several other people joining us on the elevator.

"Which floor?" a man asked as the doors closed. People began to give their floor numbers. "Five." "Eight." "Three." "Eleven."

"Wittle Wed Widing 'hood!" the small girl repeated, excitedly. She couldn't have been more than two or three years of age.

I looked up from my phone and said, "Penthouse Suite please," and heard several audible gasps. The owner of the tiny, excited little voice -- a tiny toddler wearing a police costume -- let out a blood curdling scream. I nearly had a stroke. And when I saw the expression of shock and horror etched onto her reddening face, rivers of tears flooding out of her bulging eyes as she stared at me, saw the way she was climbing her mother while shrieking and screaming, it all became crystal clear. I was Wittle Wed Widing 'hood. Raised from the Dead.

I felt awful for scaring the little girl. And then I saw my horrifying reflection in the shiny stainless steel doors of the elevator. I didn't know what to do. I stood there, mouth agape, hands open and arms outstretched like a Catholic priest about to bless a church full of parishioners. And I looked like a demonic, hideous creature escaped from the bowels of hell.

I also observed other people's concerned expressions in the reflection, but mostly the Mom's. She looked like she was half-heartedly humored and at the same time aggrieved by her child's tantrum and insolence I tried to say something, But this only made matters worse, because all I could muster was, "I--I---I'm, I'mmmmmm---ahhhhhhh, ooooohhhhhh."

And when the mother tried turning her body away from me to put a shield between the creature and her tiny, hysterical daughter, the tot turned her head and kept her eyes on me, shrieking faster and higher and louder, if that's humanly possible.

And just as I thought things couldn't get any worse, well, they did. Everything went black and the elevator jerked to a sudden stop. Everyone aboard cried out. I thought I was falling and my arms went out instinctively, hitting someone "I'm sorry whoever I hit!" I said. "Ouch!" came their reply.

"Oh my God!" several people were muttering, either because of the elevator, or because of me, or maybe because of the non-stop shrieks from the toddler. The mother attempted to hush the child, but she only screamed that much louder.

"Maybe that devil caused this," someone said.

"It's just a costume," I said. "I'm sorry I look so scary. I was on my way to enter the Halloween Costume Party Contest upstairs," I said. "There's a $500 cash prize for the winner."

"If we don't die in here I'll vote for you to win," came a man's friendly voice. Several people laughed.

"Me too!" said someone else.

"Me three!" agreed another person.

More laughter followed, and pretty soon everyone was agreeing and laughing.

The toddler's screaming became oxygen-sucking sobs. "Yeah, it's okay Daisy," her mother said. "She's just playing dress up like you tonight. She's not really a scary monster, just like you're not really a police officer. She's a nice lady under that scary costume.."

"She--she--is?" the little girl asked in the pitch dark.

"Yes. She's going to a party," her Mom said.

"I wanna go," said Daisy.

"There might be other scary costumes there," her mother said warmly.

"I won't be scared," she said.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Daisy," I said in my sweetest voice

"It's okay," she said.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

And then the lights came on and the elevator started back up. And Daisy and I smiled and waved at one another.