by Christopher Owen
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\n\u201cHere,\u201d said Red\u2019s mother, a half-smoked and ash-laden cigarette dangling from her well glossed lips, \u201ctake this basket of ennui to your grandmother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Red took the basket with both hands. It was quite heavy. Her mother had been busy.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you quite sure grandma will want this?\u201d Red asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care if she wants it,\u201d said Red\u2019s mother. \u201cI simply want it gone. And there\u2019s a woodsman coming by later, and I\u2019d like you gone as well. Two birds with one stone, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cQuite smart there, mother,\u201d said Red, and she took the basket, left her house and started down the path through the woods to her grandmother\u2019s house.<\/p>\n
Red walked for a time through the woods, but the basket was quite heavy, and she was quite lethargic, so she decided to sit for a while with her back against a tree alongside the path. Soon she was slumbering hard.<\/p>\n
When she awoke, it was pitch black around her. A pair of yellow eyes stared at her through the darkness. She heard the slightest hint of a wolf\u2019s growl.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, if it isn\u2019t a little girl,\u201d said the wolf.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, if it isn\u2019t a hungry wolf,\u201d said Red.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know I\u2019m hungry?\u201d asked the wolf.<\/p>\n
\u201cAren\u2019t you always?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, that\u2019s usually true. And a little girl would probably subdue my appetite quite nicely, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose so,\u201d said Red. \u201cThough why eat me when I\u2019ve a basket of fresh meat here by my side that you could have.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFresh meat?\u201d asked the wolf.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, it\u2019s quite rare and bloody. Prime and well marbled. A carnivore like you should love it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Red\u2019s description had the wolf\u2019s mouth watering. Before he could think better of it, he plunged his snout into the basket and gorged himself. Red laughed. At length the wolf pulled back from the basket, which was now empty.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, that wasn\u2019t meat,\u201d said the wolf. \u201cThat was your mother\u2019s ennui.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was,\u201d said Red.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou lied to me? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it could be because I am full of malice, or malevolence, or rancor. Or perhaps I merely wished to save my skin. Or both.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is terrible,\u201d said the wolf. \u201cNow I don\u2019t feel like eating any more. Or running through the forest, or howling at the moon\u2013-or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps you could write poetry,\u201d said Red.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow you\u2019re just being facetious.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m terribly sorry. \u00a0But you were planning on eating me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is the way of wolves. There is nothing wrong with it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I have beguiled you, and that is the way of humans, and there is nothing wrong with that.\u201d<\/p>\n
The wolf slowly nodded, then wandered listlessly off into the woods. Red collected her basket and, deciding it was too late for a visit to her grandmother\u2019s house, returned to her own.<\/p>\n
When Red reached her house, she could hear loud snores coming from within. One of her mother\u2019s woodsmen, she surmised, spending the night. Red sighed, then took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes which she had stolen from her mother\u2019s purse. She lit one and took a long drag, then blew the smoke out into the night air. She looked down at her empty basket, and thought of the many times she had ferried things of her mother\u2019s to her grandmother. Sadness, melancholy, guilt, anger, despondency– they had all been sent by her mother to her grandmother over the years.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandmother is getting too old for this,\u201d Red thought as she stared at the basket. \u201cAnd I certainly don\u2019t want any of mother\u2019s cast offs.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked back toward the path that led into the woods.<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps I can find some more hungry wolves,\u201d she mused as she smoked the last of the cigarette, then flicked it to the ground, where she crushed it out with the heel of her small shoe. by Christopher Owen \u201cHere,\u201d said Red\u2019s mother, a half-smoked and ash-laden cigarette dangling from her well glossed lips, \u201ctake this basket of ennui to your grandmother.\u201d Red took the basket with both hands. It was quite heavy. Her mother had … Continue reading
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\nCHRISTOPHER OWEN<\/strong> lives in Texas with his wife and two cats. After recently retiring from a long career in aviation, he now writes full time. He has fiction forthcoming at Daily Science Fiction and Mystic Signals. He has previously appeared in Perspectives and The Zephyr.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"