The band of men pushed through the lush thicket. Each step forward was agony as the thorns tore into them as if trying to stop them.
They hacked and slashed the growth until the thorns bit no more. Sweat dripped from their brow. They had to find the beast before it found her.
The minutes turned to hours. Deeper they pushed, darker the sky grew.
There! One of the men shouted. The others peered. The young girl stood in the middle of the clearing. Her white dress spotted with dirt and grime. At least she was alive each of the men thought.
They called for her but she didn’t turn. Something had caught her attention. Something big was lurking near. They ran towards her; they yelled. The ferns in clearing now swayed in the wind.
As the men ran, one by one each let out a scream only to disappear. To the left and right, no man was safe. One by one they fell.
The last remaining man made it yards of the girl. She turns to face him and smiled.
Behind her was the beast charging, it’s white fur dirty and muddy.
He screamed for her to run towards him.
She didn’t move.
He panicked.
The beast was upon her…
No!
The beast was charging him, not her.
Fear took his eyes.
The beast took his neck.
His dying gaze faded on the beauty and the beast.
Notes: Originally published this piece while I was in college for a writing assignment about Red Riding Hood; plus there was a woman in the class that – could have been her.
