Confessions of a Wolf

After Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother were heroically freed from the wolf’s belly by a passing hunter, the wolf’s story didn’t end in a happily-ever-after. Instead, it continued in a far less glamorous setting:

The Psychiatric Institution.

The wolf, still suffering from a persistent stomach ache (unsurprising, given his belly had been sliced open to extract two undigested humans), spends his days chained in his enclosure, gazing through the barred window. Lonely and despondent, he howls at the moon, his mournful cry echoing through the sterile halls.

His therapy sessions with Professor Grimm are particularly exhausting. Grimm insists on unpacking the wolf’s “dietary choices”, which frankly feels a little judgmental coming from a man whose favourite dinner includes pickled pigs’ feet.

“Why did you have to eat the grandmother, though?” Grimm asks over and over, as if the wolf could somehow provide a neat, packaged answer to such a complicated, fraught question.

Today, just like every other day, the wolf slumps into the soft dog basket, where he is promptly chained. The familiar clink of keys, the heavy door creaking open – but it’s not Professor Grimm who enters.

The wolf immediately picks up the scent of adrenaline as the spindly, slightly dehydrated ginger-haired man stumbles in. It’s the unmistakable aroma of fear, a scent the wolf knows better than his own reflection.

“Hi, I’m Larry,” the redhead says hesitantly. He sits down, adjusts his glasses and opens his notebook.

"As you may have heard, Professor Grimm is unable to continue these sessions with you,” he begins carefully, avoiding eye contact. “Now, I want to assure you, this isn’t personal – he’s just decided to focus on running the misunderstood stepmothers support group full-time.”

Larry’s lips curl into a lopsided grin. “I mean, can you blame him?”

When he notices the wolf staring back at him with a blank, unamused expression, he clears his throat awkwardly.

"Anyway," he continues, shifting in his chair, "I think you and I are going to have a productive time together.”

The wolf’s muzzle remains cold, distanced, uninterested. Larry glances down at his notebook.

“So, Professor Grimm mentioned you’ve been making progress. Getting along with Rumpelstiltskin and the trolls…”

“The trolls?” It’s the first time Larry hears his voice. It’s hoarse, yet strangely soothing, like the murmur of distant thunder before a storm.

“They have names, you know.”

Larry freezes, unsure if the wolf is being serious. “Right, right. Of course they do, I’m sorry.”

“It’s actually kind of degrading to call them that. Poor Pablo’s been dealing with severe anxiety because of it.”

Larry scrambles, flipping through his notes to cover his mistake. “You're right, I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have said that.”

Larry’s face turns the colour of an overripe tomato. This has never happened to him before. He prides himself on staying up to date – he knows terms like “dwarf” or “ogre” are outdated, and calling someone a “troll” is definitely crossing a line. He glances up and meets the wolf’s dark eyes.

“I guess it must sting when people call you the Big Bad Wolf, huh?”

The wolf, who has appeared collected so far, suddenly seems taken aback.

“People call me that?”

The hurt in his voice is so real that, for a split second, Larry almost feels bad for him. Almost.

“I mean, back in the day, they just called you Big Wolf,” Larry says, straightening in his chair. “But ever since you, uh… you know – ate Grandma for dinner…”

The wolf’s eyes narrow to slits. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what the report says.”

“And you believe it?”

“Well, I usually trust the facts.” Larry forces a smile, though it feels a little too tight.

“Of course you do, Larry.” The wolf’s voice oozes with disappointment. “Just like everybody else.”

Larry is caught off guard. What the heck is happening? He’s not a bad guy! Sure, he can be a little naïve sometimes, but that doesn’t make him a bad person. Usually, his patients like him. Just yesterday, Ursula, the black witch from the sea, complimented him on his empathetic nature, even giving him an affectionate hug with three of her twenty-seven tentacles.

The wolf fixes him with that piercing stare again. “Tell me, Larry. Do you have family? A wife? Kids?”

“No… not really. I mean, there is this woman who… uh, comes over once or twice a week. And we… you know.”

“Procreate.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so imagine this: Your special lady is doing something she loves. Something peaceful, innocent, like swimming in a lake or scratching her back against a tree. And then, out of nowhere – BANG!“

Larry flinches.

“A shot. Right between her eyes. Just like that, your special lady is dead. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. And then one day, you’re out for your usual walk, not thinking much about it, maybe tearing into a sheep or two, when you look through a window. And there it is: your lady's skin, stretched out on the wall like some cheap trophy. Her soulless, black eyes staring at you through the glass.”

Larry looks away, unable to stomach the thought. The wolf continues, his voice subdued, but still filled with a quiet intensity.

“I didn’t care about the old hag or that Little Red Riding Hood brat. All I wanted was to bring her back. Back home, where she belonged. With me.”

Larry exhales slowly, rubbing his eyes, as the weight of the wolf’s words hangs in the air. For a while, there’s silence. Neither speaks.

„I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Larry finally says, his voice softer, almost mournful. “People can be so cruel sometimes.”

The wolf looks down, his posture stiffening slightly. Larry senses the pain behind his words – the way it still lingers, like an old wound that hasn’t fully healed. But isn’t that what they’re here for? To confront it?

Larry takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “So, when you saw her in that house, you felt like you had to save her. That’s why you broke in.”

“That’s why I broke in?” The wolf laughs, his voice sharp. “If we’re being honest here, Larry, it was that old hag who broke into my woods, my homeland, first, by building that hideous house on my property!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“Isn’t there a word you people use for this?”

“Yes, but –"

 “Does colonisation ring a bell?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant, okay?” Larry feels frustration bubbling up inside him. „I’m sorry. I guess, I’m just trying to figure out…” He stumbles over his words, clearly unsure what to say. “Like – was it rage? Revenge?”

The wolf looks at him sceptically, and Larry feels the weight of that gaze, afraid of losing the ground they’ve gained. „I’m just trying to understand why you felt the need to…”

“Swallow her?”

Larry nods, grateful he didn’t have to say it out loud.

“Well, I entered the hallway and went straight to the bedroom to get back what was mine. She screamed, I screamed, and then she started hitting me with the chimney tongs. I warned her multiple times but she kept swinging at me. So, I swallowed her.”

Larry is writing down the wolf’s words with a shaky hand. “So, it was self-defence?”

“I guess you could call it that, yes.”

“Right... And what about Little Red Riding Hood?” 

“What about her?”

“Why did you have to swallow her? She’s just a child. She had nothing to do with the fate of your friend.”

„To be honest, man, when I swallowed Grandma, I panicked. I saw the girl getting closer, so I just grabbed some clothes from the cupboard and hoped she’d leave once I said I was feeling sick.

Which, I’m sorry, but this girl is either straight-up stupid or hasn’t visited her ‘oh-so-loving’ grandmother in years if she thinks that a handsome, hairy wolf in a morning gown could be her grandma.

She wouldn’t leave, though. She kept asking me these really hurtful questions, man. About my big ears, my big eyes, my big feet, which are pretty delicate for a wolf my size.”

“It’s actually the first thing I noticed.”

“Thanks man, appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, so anyway. End of the story: This animal killer comes while I’m asleep, apparently because I was snoring too loudly, and slices open my stomach. Takes out the girl, then Grandma, and you know what the girl suggests next?”

“I guess you’re referring to the stones in your stomach?”

“They filled my tummy with bricks, man! I mean, who does that?!”

Larry nods empathetically, unsure what to say. “That‘s… That’s just horrible... “

„That’s animal abuse.”

Larry snaps his notebook shut. He needs a moment to breathe.

„I’m really sorry for what happened to you,” Larry eventually says, his voice soft. “You didn’t deserve any of it. Actually, I don’t think you deserve any of this, either.” He gestures vaguely around the room. The institution, the enclosure, the chains.

The wolf exhales wearily. “I’m tired, man,” he mutters, exhaustion thick in his voice. “I just want to go home.”

“Our session is almost over anyway… “

„No,” the wolf interrupts, his tone heavy with longing. “I mean, home. My home.”

For a moment, Larry looks at the wolf thoughtfully, fidgeting with his pen.

"You know what?" he finally says, a wave of determination rising in him. He glances at the door, as if checking for any sign of eavesdroppers.

“I’m going to get you out of here. But we need to work together, okay? We have to finish the sessions, follow the protocol… so I can clear you for release. Can you do that?”

The wolf nods, a flicker of reassurance in his gaze. Then the sound of the session’s end chime fills the room, breaking the fragile silence between them.

Two guards enter, fully suited in bite-resistant gear and helmets. Larry gives the wolf an apologetic look, almost as if to say: Sorry, buddy, but these are the rules. The wolf returns the glance with a nod of understanding.

 “See you tomorrow,” Larry says quietly.

“Take care,” the wolf replies.

The guards carefully remove the wolf’s heavy chains, their movements deliberate and practiced. Larry feels a swell of pride in his chest as he watches his patient stretch his limbs with a fluid grace. It took some time, but slowly, surely, they're making progress.

Take that, Professor Grimm! Larry thinks. I’m not as bad as you preach.

As the wolf is led past Larry, heading back to his enclosure, he takes a subtle, almost imperceptible sniff, his eyes glinting with something primal. And in that brief, fleeting moment, the wolf can’t help but think, what an impressive young man Larry is – sweet, gentle, tender. So tender, he can almost taste him between his teeth…