Little red riding hood knew she shouldn’t have strayed from the path. Her mother had told her not to. It was just that she wanted her grandmother to feel better and knew that the sight of wild flowers would put a smile on her face. But now, it was getting dark and she had the strangest feeling. You know that feeling. Like she was no longer alone. Like someone was watching her.
Little red riding hood stopped picking flowers and stood up straight. Standing silently she listened for movement in the dark woods surrounding her. She moved the freshly picked flowers up toward her face. ‘Maybe their sweet smell would calm her’, she thought to herself, but this feeble gesture did nothing to ease her increasing feeling of dread. The harder she tried to listen, the louder her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She was all at once being taken over by a horrible sense of foreboding. Like she was being devoured, body and soul, by fear itself.