Little Red Riding Hood was dead.

The cold water in the bath held motionless swirls of pink. A razor rested on the bottom of the see-through glass bathtub. Standing over her, keeping watch stood the Woodsman. Dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting flannel shirt (the sleeves rolled up to his elbows), he held an ax above his head ready to bring it down. The woodsman could only be seen from behind. His hair was black and semi-long reaching past his wide, powerful shoulders. Shoulders that looked strong enough to carry logs or an early twenty-year-old version of Little Red Riding Hood. Her slim body was chalk white, her face void of emotion and her eyes were those of the long dead. Her red hair fanned her face, which may have been beautiful an hour ago, before this tragic incident.

"Hey, Selene."

Selene turned from her last modeling assignment over six months ago and faced Brad, a smile broke from her thin lips. "Hey, you."

He held two glasses of bubbly and offered one to her. "A success?"

"For the morbid," she said.

They clinked glasses. "I'll salute that."

"Decent price tag." Selene motioned to the four thousand dollar tag under the framed photo.

Brad leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear. His hot breath washed over her, and he said, "Compared to all these," — he waved his arm in an arc covering the main floor of the art show — "it's a bargain." He kissed her cheek softly.

The showroom was packed with a broad assortment of people mulling about the pictures and statues of classical designs. Only a few of the viewers wore suits, most were dressed in very tidy, yet casual style. There were a few couples idly browsing, interested parties, but not lovers of art. Dealers avoided them, knowing no sale would come. It was a waste of words. There were a couple of rough looking guys as well. One of them she recognized from a few minor movies, but the other one, she'd never seen before. His leather jacket wasn't designer branded, it looked like a throwback from the seventies. The jacket reached past the waist of the dark blue jeans. She expected to see thick, heavy black biker boots but instead, he wore sneakers with a brand new to her. He was cute in a rough kind of way but the Mullet had to go.

Brad said: "Who are you looking at?"

"No one," she answered a little quickly. Her eyes met Brad's and with a grin, she sipped the bubbly. "Take me on a tour."

And so he did.

Most photos were of her posing in one form or another. Some were digitally altered. The Poppy field was one of them. She remembered posing in front of a green screen. In another, she wore tight, uncomfortable latex that was like a second skin on a very provocative area. Selene hated doing these photos, but they paid better. Sometimes a whole lot better.

Other models appeared in several shots, mostly morbid as well. Selene couldn't recall seeing them before. She wanted to meet others in her field, especially those who worked with Brad. She questioned what her chances might be with him. Alas, he'd been nothing but professional in every way, even at cafes on breaks or location shots. Brad hadn't made a move. It pissed her off. She gave him the signals and opportunities. Maybe he was gay — or just not interested. Hell, the last assignment was Red Riding Hood six months back. He hadn't called her since then.

They stopped to look at a photo with an unknown model.

"Apart from Little Red, this is my favorite." He pushed past a few people trying to grasp the meaning the artist was hoping for. The price tag was two point seven grand. There was a barrier around the print as there was for all the framed photos. A small velvet rope hooked on two stands at each side of the photo.

Talking to Selene and ignoring the others, he said: "This picture was one of those seldom attained shots. The lighting was right; the steam was exactly the right density and Terri's expression was perfect."

He glowed with a pride Selene hadn't seen before and it jammed a glass slither into her psyche.

Brad didn't seem to notice. "Come," he said, taking her hand.

Showing three other photos, all morbid in nature, he explained each one in loving detail. Each girl was different and each time he spoke of them, he spoke with a passion that appeared more than professional.

When they hit the fourth photo, Selene had had enough of Brad's admiration for the young women in his artwork. All the girls except her. She raised her empty glass. "I'm dying for a refill," she stated.

"Allow me." Brad stepped forward.

"No. I'll go," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "I also need to visit the ladies," she admitted in a softer voice.

Brad smiled. "I'll…um…mingle, I guess. Till you get back. Promise to find me?"

A waiter walked past with an empty tray under his arm. Selene held out her glass to him, the waiter ignored it and walked on by. She shook her head. "Back shortly. You won't even know I'm gone."

She walked past all the paintings he'd spoken to her about and noticed each one now had a "sold" sticker attached to the price tag. She was amazed. She thought his passion for each photo came out and caught the imagination of a purchaser.

The photos of her poses were mostly unsold. A couple here and there. 'A Splash of Red' was still for sale. Selene thought that was her best work.

She stopped and gave it another once over. It was the best photo on display, but her view was biased. If she had eleven grand, she'd buy it. The toilet was a couple of photos away. She didn't need to go, she only wanted a break from Brad.

A cold chill ran down her spine. She turned and saw the leather jacket guy watching her from across the room. He raised his glass and smiled at her. Selene ignored the toast and pushed through into the Ladies bathroom.

It was well lit and very clean. The porcelain basins shined, as did the floor. Several stalls were lined up against the far wall. All bar one had an open door. The occupied stall was at the far end of the room.

Selene stood in front of the mirror. She put the glass down and finger-brushed her hair. It was a mixture of black and red, almost crimson and all natural. Her hair was wavy and shoulder length. A small red blemish scarred the otherwise smooth and clear complexion. Her eyes stood out with a soft light blue eyeliner. She usually wore little make-up. Less is best.

Satisfied enough time had passed, Selene adjusted her red vinyl jacket, she wore a white tee shirt underneath with a skull and crossbones print across the breast. Her waist jeans were tight and she adjusted them as best she could. She was dressed as she should with designer clothes and a near size zero waist. Her hair, clothes, and attitude matched. She was who she was, a model.

To hell with Brad. He wasn't the only person out there she hoped to meet. (Promise to find me?) Producers were out there as well as other photographers and contacts she desperately needed if her career was to continue. She had kept mainly to herself tonight and that was the wrong thing to do. She should be out there flirting, and giggling and meeting people.

Her cell phone rang as she opened the door. In the occupied stall someone grunted and Selene suppressed a laugh. As the door self-shut, she thought she heard a yell of pain and heard something thump the stall. She was tempted to go back in and offer assistance or whatever, but the photo ID of an elderly woman with the kindest eyes in history and warmest smile to match stopped her.

She flipped open her phone as the bathroom door quietly thumped shut, blocking any further sounds, "Hello?"

"Hello dear, how is everything?"

Selene smiled. "It's all good Nana. There's a bunch of people here." She walked out from the toilet. The guy in the leather jacket watched her. She pretended not to see him. His focus on her was intense and a little worrying. He had been here a while and not once, did she see him look at a single photo. Every time her sight found him, he was looking at her or somebody near to her.

"Now don't you be nervous, you hear?"

"I know, Nana."

"The party of your life."

"Only one of them, Nana. There'll be others." Selene changed course wanting to place distance between her and seventies throwback dude.

"What's wrong, dear? You sound down."

"It's nothing."

"Poo-cocky."

Selene laughed. Nana was the only soul she knew who used that term. It was also the hardest word Nana spoke.

"Is, whatshisname, Brad, still being a blind man?"

"I think he was born without eyes, Nana," she said. She was about to say gay, but Nana would probably think she meant he was happy. Speaking of Brad, where was he? She wanted the comfort of a familiar person at her side in case the guy wearing the leather tried to make a move.

"Well, if you want to leave, I'm only on the other side of the woods."

"I know Nana."

The woods she referred to was a Nature Reserve that led to a graveyard and then the highway beyond. Across the highway rows of suburbia stretched out into the distance. At night the highway was fairly bare and crossing it was not an issue, there was also an overhead bridge available. It was also a good shortcut and she had always used the bridge. Walking through the woods at night was not the safest option.

"Are you there, dear?"

"Sorry Nana, I was a million miles away."

"Well, you get back quickly and introduce yourself to as many people as possible."

"Okay, Nana. I will. Bye."

"Goodnight dear." Nana killed the connection.

Selene pocketed the phone. She walked through the main hall and climbed the steps to the upper level. Brad was nowhere to be seen, not that she was seriously looking for him. She looked over the banister looking down on the main floor crowd. Leather jacket guy was down there. Thankfully, he wasn't looking at her. He was walking toward the Ladies bathroom. He stopped just outside the door.

A large woman in her mid-forties gave him a look Selene couldn't see clearly from this distance, but the body language and mouthed words were clear. Pervert, get away from the door. The guy held his hands up in a surrender pose and backed away. A few people watched him and from the front entrance, one of two large black guards stepped from the lobby and into the room.

Finally, someone was going to do something about that guy. She turned away not wanting to watch in case his eyes found her. The handful of people up here spoke in hushed tones. Each held an empty glass. She guessed the waiter didn't come up here very often, or not at all.

A woman screamed.

Downstairs.

Everyone turned.

The scream was a shrill of pain and agony.

Down below, the bathroom door crashed open and the large woman who had words with the leather jacket guy stumbled out. Her dress was ripped open. Blood spat from large gashes and it pumped profusely from one torn breast. The woman dropped to her knees. Her scream dying in silence as she stared numbly at herself. Her body heaved with each breath.

Seconds ticked by in complete silence. No one spoke. No one moved. Shock gripped everyone's attention.

The woman on her knees slowly looked up. Her arms rose forward, fingers stretched out, seeking someone to help.

Only one person stepped forward and it was the guy in the leather jacket.

A moan escaped her as she reached for him.

The bathroom door exploded off the hinges and landed on the woman, knocking her face first to the floor. Under the door, she was spread-eagled. She struggled to get up. The door tilted as she managed to get onto her elbows. She started shrieking, panic and realization ran a bloody course of madness through her nerves. Her eyes were wide, fear-soaked tears dribbled down and over her fleshy cheeks. 

A couple of men rushed forward to help her. Selene noticed the leather jacket guy back away from the action. He turned his head, left and right as if searching for someone. She watched him closely as he moved through the crowd at a quick pace. He reached a window and looked—

A howl ripped forth from the bathroom.

—slowly the leather jacket guy turned. Selene's eyes followed him as he stared at the bathroom. The room beyond was soaked in blackness so deep it hid everything from sight.

Something had smashed the lights.

The two volunteers grabbed the woman's arms. Both looked at the blackness in the—

A snort, followed by a low, deep rumbling growl that vibrated through the floor, stairs and Selene's bones. 

—bathroom. They had the woman halfway out when slowly something from the movie The Howling, only bigger and uglier stepped out of the blackness and into the light. Top lip curled back. It climbed the fallen door.

The woman screamed, breaking the paralysis gripping the art lovers. The two men dropped her arms and backed away slowly trying not to alarm the animal.

It walked forward, deep brown fur stringy, bloodshot eyes, massive chest, muscular legs, and shoulders. The beast was pure muscle. The head was large with a long snout and thick jaws. It stopped front paws on the woman's upper back. It howled, rose up on its hind legs and for a moment it stood like a man, then came crashing down, front paws landed hard on the back of the lady's head. The fracture of bone echoed through the chief room. Blood leaked from the woman's eyes, nose, and mouth.

Everyone rushed to the front door at once. Panic ran free. The need for survival was strong and overpowering. As one they jammed the door, people tripped in the rush, stepped on the fallen and pushed forward wanting to get out as quickly as possible and failing.

Selene also wanted to join the throng of people. She doubted her chances of getting past the animal. She watched the small group of people up here with her, suddenly break for the stairs. They dashed past her in a blind rush, hoping to make it outside.

The animal — the Lycanthrope — sat on the woman's back and calmly watched the panic-stricken. The crowd at the door screamed. As one they all tried to back away. The brown Lycanthrope turned to face the disturbance.

Bodies flew into walls and over other people. Scrambling and knocked over, they crawled for shelter, safety. Legs kicked on the growing flow of blood and body parts. Terrified screams filled the main room and reached Selene as she watched the carnage below. She couldn't see the entrance/exit from her position, only the lobby leading to the glass front doors.

Covered in blood and gashes, people stepped from the lobby and stumbled into the main room. Some fell, most tried and succeeded to stay upright with the help of statues and the wall.

The guy in the leather jacket bounded up the stairs toward her. Selene was more worried about him than she was with the werewolf and whatever was happening at the entrance.

He moved fast and reached her in a matter of seconds. She backed away fast.

"My name is Hans," he said, his voice calm and in full control. "You must come with me."

She shook her head. No.

A crash of glass spiked through the room. The brown Lycanthrope stood up and walked off the dead woman. It faced the lobby. A couple of bloodied people ran past, screams scorching their throats. They ran past the Lycanthrope without realizing it was there. Blind panic. Searching for somewhere safe.

The Lycanthrope paid them no attention either. It waited. An eerie silence fell upon the room. Selene watched the man calling himself Hans. His attention was directed at the lobby. There was nowhere for her to go.

"Oh god, no," Hans whispered. "The Alpha male."

Selene looked down and exiting the lobby was a black Lycanthrope. Its mouth was covered with blood. It padded into the room. Stared at the brown Lycanthrope a moment as if communicating and stepped to the side.

The brown Lycanthrope ran into the lobby and vanished.

The black Lycanthrope looked at the upper level. Selene met its stare and something deep inside told her it was here for her.

It approached the stairs.

Hans grabbed her arm. "Hold on to me," he hissed and wrapped his left arm around her waist.

The black Lycanthrope bounded up the stairs.

Hans got her onto the banister and said, "Close your eyes."

Selene didn't.

Hans opened the window. It was narrow and could only fit one person at a time. He looked down. It was a hell of a drop, but they were out of options. He pushed Selene out and quickly followed.

They landed in a Dumpster on top of a pile of broken down and folded cardboard boxes and Styrofoam packaging and scrunched up bubble wrap. Somehow he managed not to land on her.

Selene looked up. The Alpha Male was at the window; growling and trying to get out. Saliva dripped from the lower lip and twisted in the air as it fell. The wind caught it and tossed it to the side of the building.

She grabbed the edge of the Dumpster and hauled herself over the side. She struggled to get her midsection across, but once she passed the waist, she dropped easily to the ground.

She heard Hans inside the Dumpster, he was having trouble getting out, a couple of times his hands gripped the edge and then suddenly slipped away. "Selene are you still there?"

She didn't answer.

Above her, the werewolf head-butted the window. It shattered showering glass into the dumpster. Hans cried out. When he next spoke, his voice was strained. His breathing was fast and rapid. "If you are there, Selene. Run. Run somewhere safe and hide."

"Who are you?"

Above the werewolf growled. Its head was out but its shoulders were too muscular to get through. Yet, it tried.

"You know who I am. Now go. Run to your grandmother's house. They want her as well. Time is against you."

"Why?" Selene could barely hold her sobs. She tried, but tears ran down her face. She abruptly understood what was happening and knew she would not last the night. Nerves tingled like mad, tightening and twisting, trying to get her to move.

The growls above stopped.

Selene looked up. The beast was gone.

"Jesus Selene, you must go now!"

"Tell me why."

"Because it is your destiny, Little Red Riding Hood."

Selene was silent a second, taking in what he said. It was ludicrous and well, impossible. Fairytales weren't true. "That was just a photo shoot."

"No. It was a glimpse into your future."

"Bullshit!"

"Then sit there and wait for the end."

Screams came from inside. She was wasting precious time, she knew it. And there was no way she was going to sit there and wait for the end. She took off, running across the road. Her high heels clicked loudly, a homing beacon. Taking them off, Selene bashed the heels sidelong into the edge of the curb and snapped off one heel, then the next. She tossed the heels into the gutter and took off.

At the corner of the road, she heard a crash behind her, quickly followed by a car alarm and a howl so horrifying it curdled milk.

Selene dashed diagonally across the road. She sprinted the next block down to the next intersection. There were a few cars here and a couple of trucks. Luck was on her side.

Turning right, she headed to the Nature Reserve three blocks down. Her heart thudded hard against her chest and her breathing was rapid. Sweat broke on her forehead and occasionally blinded her. She recognized most of the sweat wasn't from a lack of fitness, it was from fear. She'd been sweating since the woman stumbled out of the bathroom.

A glimpse over her shoulder showed a clear road behind her.

She reached the crossing and this showed a green 'walk' signal. Along the other side of the road was the Nature Reserve. It was closed. A large gate blocked the entrance.

Racing across the road, she saw a thick chain wrapped tightly around the bars and held together with a fat padlock. She grabbed the padlock to see if it were real. When did they install the gates?

Fuck. It was going to take forever to go around the reserve.

Selene checked the fence along the road hoping it ended somewhere. It was covered in overgrown bush, the vines, and branches wrapped around the bars. Confused, she walked back to the main entrance. It took a moment, but a realization took hold and showed her an old fence. Had she never noticed it before? Impossible. Just last month she had come through here.

Panic seized her. Reality was out of sync. 

Oh God, she'd run out of time.

Selene didn't need to turn to know the animal was across the road. She could feel its eyes on her, watching, willing her to turn and face the end.

The tall fence in front of her. The werewolf (as crazy as it seemed) stood behind her. There is no other option available. She grabbed the bars and using the chain and padlock, Selene hoisted herself up. Her feet somehow found grip as they kicked at the smooth bars and her hands reached for the curved metal at the top. She scrambled the final foot up to a crossbeam. From there it was an easy reach to the top. 

The heavy fence jolted almost knocking her free.

Her hands slipped and groped madly for a hold. As she tilted back they found the top crossbar and she gripped it tightly, practically hugging the fence.

A further jolt didn't shake her. Neither did a third.

Looking down, she saw the black wolf back up and charge.

Selene screamed.

The wolf crashed into the gate.

It titled.

Selene slipped. Her legs slid down and hands fought for grip. She couldn't hold on, her hands were slippery, the bars too smooth. Tears sprang forth as she realized this was it. No fairytale for her. No 'Ohh Grandma, what big eyes you have' bullshit. And the funny thing was, she was starting to believe.

Like a suspense film, Selene watched her hands slip free in slow motion. Her legs kicked the air as she dropped backward.

And landed on her back. All the air was punched from her lungs in one solid strike.

The black werewolf walked up to her. Its movements were slow as if it approached with caution. Its massive head looked down at her. Top lip curled back. Fangs barred.

Selene begged for unconsciousness, but she was as alert as ever. And oddly enough, she wasn't afraid. The panic was gone, the tingly nerves had also departed. Her heart still raced but that was due to a lack of fitness and nothing else. She had also stopped sweating.

She stared the wolf in the eyes and calmly said, "Go on. What are you waiting for?"

The werewolf stared at her.

"Come on!" she shouted. No fear. No anger. Encouragement.

The werewolf backed away. It looked at the fence, then back at her.

Feeling the aches and pains of the fall, Selene moved into a squat position. She looked at the fence. The werewolf had made a decent sized dent, enough room for her to squeeze through perhaps. But not enough for the wolf.

She understood now.

In the story, Little Red Riding Hood skipped through the town and entered into the woods to visit Grandma. The wolf confronted her in the forest.

Selene looked again at the gate. The gap called to her. The werewolf waited. If she entered the story would start. The brown werewolf was already at Nana's place, she was sure of it. Maybe it was circling, waiting for her to make the first move. 

In the story, there was one wolf, but the story was wrong. There were two werewolves. One ate grandma. The other…the other was watching her now. It waited patiently. It waited for her to fulfill her destiny.

Tonight Nana would die.

Her destiny?

Getting to her feet, Selene stepped toward the gate. Instantly, the werewolf was up and growling. It hadn't moved forward yet. It seemed to be giving her time. Watching. Waiting. Patient.

Selene put one leg through the gap in the gate. It was a tight squeeze for sure.

Her phone rang.

It was on the ground where she had fallen. She pulled her leg out of the gate and went to the phone, completely oblivious to what she was doing. The phone rang. She had to answer it. A habit bred from years of use.

The ID was Nana.

She answered.

"Selene, dear. Shall I make up the spare bed for you?"

Selene looked at the gate, then at the werewolf. It watched her closely. "No," she said. "Maybe another night, Nana."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she lied. Selene had no idea what was going to happen next. She eyed the wolf and closed her phone. Nana would not die tonight. "One day, I'll go through that gate. One day, I'll start your damn story."

The wolf growled.

"But not today."

Selene turned and walked back the way she had come. Her heart raced but she knew the werewolf was not following her. It would wait for her to enter the Nature Reserve. It would wait for her to start the story.

She passed a parked van. The passenger side window powered down and she saw Hans sitting behind the wheel. He wore leather gloves and there was a fresh gash across his cheek. She remembered the falling glass and his strained voice. Selene stepped up to the window. Attached to the lower part of the dashboard, she saw a sawn-off pump action shotgun.

"Silver bullets?"

Ignoring her question, he said: "Now the wolf has found you, it will never leave. It will be your constant shadow. Your constant nightmare. Until you complete your destiny."

Selene looked back, Brad squatted in front of the damaged gate, naked and watching her. He was crouched as the wolf had. With lightning speed, he stood, jumped the fence in a single bound which appeared effortless, and vanished along the dirt track. She knew she would never see him again, but she would always feel his presence nearby.

Looking Hans in the eyes, she smiled. "You're my woodsman."

He nodded.

"Go," he said, motioning to the damaged gate. "Complete your destiny."

"Tonight's as good a night as any, huh?"

"It is your destiny," he said, starting to sound like a broken record. Selene understood his need for her to enter the Nature Reserve and get things rolling. It was his story as well. He wanted to be the hero.

"It's only destiny if I choose to follow that path," she said. Selene stepped away from the van and started walking. What lay ahead of her, she did not know. Just like every other normal person in this world, whether they belonged or not.

End