Little Red Riding hood - the real version

A very, short story By: kristiecoo13
Little Red

My name is Little Red Riding hood, Red for short. At least it was before I died. This is my story.
You’ve all probably heard of my story already. Only, your parents all probably only told you of the goody-two-shoes fairytale version. But what I’m about to tell you is the real version. Be warned it is a gory version.
I guess you’ve always heard I was on my way to my grandma’s house when I was eaten. This is a big, fat lie! I’ve never even had a grandma.
The truth is that I lived in a house, with my mother and little sister, in the forest and I was on my way to the market. I was in the deepest, darkest part of the forest when I met the wolf.
“Hello, tasty,” he had said to me in a hoarse voice. He smiled evilly at me, showing me big, white, sharp teeth that were stained red with blood.
My eyes widened as I looked up at his cold, red eyes. I tried to swallow down my fears, but they wouldn’t go away. But I was determined to even appear brave. For I was a girl, and girls were always described as fragile things that are scared of everything even slightly frightening.
Before I could even move, the wolf broke all my fingers on one of my hands. I cried out with agony, but no one could hear me. The sound echoed off the tree tops.
He went for my other hand, but I moved fast enough to dodge it. His poisonous nails cut the skin of my stomach. I winced in pain. But before he could do me any more damage, I stabbed him with a dagger I always kept at my hip. I watched as his eyes widened with pain and shock. I dug the blade deeper into his cold, black heart.
Then, when I could tell he was dead, I let go. He fell to the ground and I stood over him. But a wave of nausea rushed over me. I staggered back, bracing myself against it. But I couldn’t take it.
I fell to my knees and wrenched and heaved until I could no more. Then I lied down on my back. I could tell I was dying. I could feel the pain as the poison spread through my bloodstream.
After a few ragged breaths I was dead. I floated through the sky, flying higher and higher each second. Then I was suddenly nowhere, where I have stayed for the past 400 years.

Hey, kristiecoo13,

This was a really cool idea, and it was executed nicely. The only thing I would suggest is to maybe add more descriptions and feelings. Like instead of just saying Red was in the woods you could possibly describe the way the woods looked and maybe that she was scared being in the woods all alone. Or if you want to take a different approach, because she described herself as not being scared:

But I was determined to even appear brave. For I was a girl, and girls were always described as fragile things that are scared of everything even slightly frightening.

So you could just say how the usually intimidating woods didn't affect me because I was brave in the dark mysterious forest... It's kind of a weird sentence I know, but I hope you get the gist of what I'm saying.

But overall, it was really good. I personally liked when you said:

Only, your parents all probably only told you of the goody-two-shoes fairytale version.

Anyway I hope my explanations make sense, and I can't wait to read more from you!

~Dommy

Hey Kristie! Before I start, I thought I'd just let you know that it's advisable to make at least 2 reviews first before posting your first work, okay?

Now, on to the critique.

I think this is a good idea you worked on, and your attempt isn't bad. As far as I can see your grammar is alright, but to emphasise on what Dommy said, you lack a lot of description and feeling. Even if a story is short, it needs to let the reader feel something, and not just know what's happening. It's like watching a movie with no sound. Don't do that.

You can elaborate a lot on this...think about who Red is. What's her personality? What does she feel?

You mentioned her mother and little sister, but that's where you stopped. So what about her mother and little sister? Does she think about them before she dies?

One minor thing I found bugging me while reading this piece was the repetition of the word "my". I don't know, for me it just kept repeating too much.

Also, I'm wondering why the wolf broke her fingers. Was there a reason behind it? If I wanted to eat you, for example, I wouldn't think for a second to break your fingers first.

Try to think about this story. Imagine it in your head. Put yourself in Red's shoes. Then maybe your story will be more alive. I hope you can work on this. Feel free to PM me if you're done. Hope my critique helped! Good luck!

~Fye

Hmm, well, seems a nice idea. Only... within the last few years, don't you think this sort of thing has been done a bit too much? It's getting, well, repetitive.
Still, I'll forget the others and focus on yours.
To be honest, I don't know where you're going with this. Usually these re-tellings are meant to be comical, but I don't see that here and, to point out the obvious, she dies. You're writing it like it is serious, but's it's a Fairy Tale - they just aren't, are they?
If you did intend to tug at our heart-strings, then I must say you failed to tug mine. I felt nothing for Red - she was utterly 2-D. There was no description, no imagery. I felt you were giving me a rough outline of some incident.
I think what your biggest problem was is that you were telling, not showing. For example:

Before I could even move, the wolf broke all my fingers on one of my hands. I cried out with agony, but no one could hear me. The sound echoed off the tree tops.

He broke her fingers - that's pretty major. Where's the paragraph of description - how it felt, what she was thinking. You tell us she was in 'agony' but nothing more. Make your writing shine! (Gah, I'm sounding like a primary-school teacher).