Little Red

Thanks for the feedback everyone! I think I wrote this piece far too quickly, I should inject a lot more emotion into this piece! Really wish I'd posted this sooner and read all your comments before I submitted this piece for marking, but oh well! It will have to do.

I think I will try to rework the piece as your contributions definitely make sense and will improve it, so thanks again

& @Shubhi - yes you should definitely read the original tales! They're gruesome, if you want I will pm you one of the originals to this story (I say one of because no one is quite sure which is the original as they all came about at the same time due to the oral tradition of telling stories).

Hey Luvzi. Here to review. Sorry it took me so long., I was busy doing other reviews. Sorry once again.

It wasn’t really a forest, just a small grove of trees, which provided a short cut to her Grandma’s house.

Today, she carried with her a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread in a plastic bag, which she swung by her side as she walked, making her red hair shake on her head.

It was a beautiful scarlet coat that matched her deep red hair; she always received compliments about the jacket, and as she was quite a conceited young girl, she wore the coat on most days in the hopes of receiving compliments.

What she thought was to be fur was actually a shaggy mane of hair that cascaded down the sides of his face into a beard.

“Hi,” she said.

“Where are you off to?”
“Umm… I’m not supposed to say. Sorry.”

“By the way, Bridie. That’s a lovely coat,” John shouted to her as she walked away, and he licked his lips at the sight of her red hair swinging behind her.

I’ll be gone before she arrives, I just wanted to pop by and see how you were doing, make sure you didn’t need anything.

She felt the man’s eyes burning into the back of her head, but she didn’t mind, she was used to men admiring her, she relished it.

He also chops the grandmother into pieces and frys up the meat for him and Bridie to eat

I love fairytales, so I'm gonna crit this. Comments in red.

Luvzi12 wrote:This is a story I wrote for a creative writing project. It's an adaptation of the fairytale Little Red Riding Hood. Any feedback is appreciated, even though I've already handed in the work now The rating is 12 due to some violence and sexual references.

Little Red

Dusk was beginning to fall Personally I find "beginning to" quite a weak phrase, but if you're sure you need it then by all means keep it. as Bridie walked through the small forest by her house. It wasn’t really a forest, just a small grove of trees which provided a short cut to her grandma’s house. Her grandma lived by herself, so Bridie offered to help her out after school by bringing her groceries and keeping her company. In return her grandma would give her presents, such as clothes, jewellery and make-up. I cut the sentence so it would flow better. Also, I'd prefer it if you could let us infer that on our own. But I suppose it's okay here.

Today, she carried with her a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread in a plastic bag, which she swung by her side as she walked, making her red hair shake on her head. There's too many things going on in this sentence and it kind of confuses me. Made me read twice. Might want to fix that. It was a brisk evening I'm not sure if brisk is the right word there... and she clutched her red coat against her chest to keep herself warm. The coat was a gift from her grandma, and she adored it. It was a beautiful scarlet coat that matched her deep red hair; she always received compliments about the jacket, and as she was quite a conceited young girl, she wore the coat most days in the hopes of receiving compliments. Don't tell us she's conceited. Show us.

Bridie continued to walk through the trees, under the spindled branches and through the overwhelming mist of pine scent, until she noticed something a little way ahead of her. At first it looked to her like a dog standing on his hind legs leaning against the tree, but as she got closer she recognised the figure of a man. Unless her eyes are really destroyed, you can't mistake a dog for a man. A dog standing on its hind legs would have oddly shaped legs, and very short "arms". What she thought was fur was actually a shaggy mane of hair that cascaded down the sides of his face into a beard. The beard was long and reached down to the collar of his coat, which Bridie soon noticed was not dog hair at all, but a woolen coat.

“Hello, there,” the man spoke in a gruff voice.

Bridie was taken aback. She knew not to talk to people she didn’t know, but she also did not want to be rude. Show us her conflict. Don't tell it.

“Hi,” she said.

“Where are you off to?”

“Umm… I’m not supposed to say. Sorry.” No body language? That's a little odd? I think she'd laugh nervously here or something.

“That’s okay, I understand you’re not meant to talk to strangers. I’m John,” he stretched out his hand to shake Bridie’s.

“I’m Bridie,” She shook his hand and thought to herself, ‘just because I know your name doesn’t mean you’re not a stranger.’

“Were you at school today?”

“Yes. Why would she even answer the question? 0o I’m sorry; I really have to go now. My Grandma will get worried if I’m late and she’ll probably call the police to look for me,” She just told him where she was headed despite telling him she wasn't allowed to tell him. she lied, hoping the man would leave if he knew people were expecting her.

“Your grandma? Wait, is your grandmother Mrs Rose?” Again. No body language? You really need some to make this conversation believable, since body language makes all the difference sometimes.

“You know her?” Bridie asked intriguingly. Cut intriguingly because it's definitely not the right word to use here.

“She lives in the house opposite me. Of course, I remember her telling me about you now; she is highly complimentary about you Bridie, and rightly so. You’re very pretty.”

After hearing a compliment Bridie forgot her urgency to get the man to leave and to not share information with him, replying, First. There is nothing wrong with the word said. Second, a single compliment threw her off course? It could be believable, but you don't show us her thoughts and just tell us she forgot. You should give us a train of thought. “Thank you, I’m just dropping off some food for her actually. I do this most days after school.”

“Well, isn’t that nice of you? I suppose I’d better let you get on your way, but please do tell your grandma I say hi. In fact, I may pop over to see her later myself,” John smiled.

“Cool, maybe I’ll see you later then?” She said, and continued to walk through the grove of trees towards her grandmother’s house. This sentence is kind of weird. It's stilted and it destroys the flow.

“By the way, Bridie. That’s a lovely coat,” John shouted to her as she walked away, and he licked his lips at the sight of her red hair swinging behind her.


Mrs Rose had lived alone following her husband’s death a few years before, and Bridie’s visits always made her feel a little less lonely. She was never sure what day to expect her, but as others rarely came to visit her, whenever there was a knock on her door she always expected it to be Bridie.

On this day, her door was knocked a little earlier than usual. Mrs Rose pulled herself out of bed and wandered over to answer the knocks. She was glad she lived in a bungalow, as she was getting more tired as of late and spent more time in bed and didn’t think she would be able to handle walking up and down the stairs every time a guest came I thought she never had guests, apart from Bridie. or she was hungry.

“I wasn’t expecting you this early, Bridie,” she muttered Muttered makes her sound apprehensive or unhappy. She's more likely to greet it, but again - use the word said. It's an invisible word and doesn't yank the reader out of the story like some words do. as she pulled open the door. “Oh, hello.” No surprise? No thoughts? No emotions?

“Hello there. I’m John, your neighbour. I thought we should get to know each other, may I come in?” No body language? No friendly smile?

Mrs Rose tapped her frail fingers on the doorframe and looked him up and down. Her hesitancy prompted John to say, “I won’t stay for long, I promise. I couldn’t help but notice a girl sometimes stops by to visit, your niece perhaps? The girl in the red coat?”

“She’s not my niece, she’s my granddaughter.” At that point the guy sounds like a creeper, and she answers him? OO I'm beginning to question Grandma's sanity.

“Your granddaughter? My, you don’t look old enough!” The last part of this is pretty stilted.

“Oh, you tease,” Mrs Rose smiled bashfully. Kill the adverbs, replace them with other ways of showing she was bashful.

“Honestly, I’m surprised! Well, I know where she got her looks from, that’s for sure. This guy isn't very subtle, is he? :\ She’ll be over soon, won’t she? That is creepy. How does he know that? I’ll be gone before she arrives; I just wanted to pop by and see how you were doing, make sure you didn’t need anything. May I come in?”

“Okay, but only for a little while,” Mrs Rose answered and opened the door fully to let him in.

John entered the house. He looked around the room at the mauve wallpaper adorned with red Gerberas that matched the cherry-coloured drapes and ruby carpet and admired the spacious living room that led on to another room, and through an open door he could see a large, double bed covered with a scarlet duvet. So many things said in one sentence. Chop them into several sentences and let us feel it with him. Also, you changed POV.

“You like red, I see.”

“I do, indeed. Have you seen the red coat my granddaughter Bridie wears? I made that for her.” It's creepy that she simply accepts the fact that the man knows her granddaughter and talks about her granddaughter. Also. I was under the impression that she wouldn't have any neighbors close enough to notice Bridie coming in.

“You made it? It’s exquisite! A woman with beauty and talent, That sounds stiff. Say it out loud and you'll know it's pretty awkward-sounding. Forced, almost.” John gushed. Said. Don't use gush, please. It makes him seem like a simpering man when earlier you described him as gruff.

Mrs Rose laughed. “Oh, John. You do know how to make an old woman feel good about herself. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I'd love one.” John followed Mrs Rose into her kitchen, but not with the intention of making tea. He watched her as she walked into the kitchen, then when she had her back turned he reached for the nearest blunt object, a frying pan, and beat her over the head with it. When she was dead, John searched the drawers in the kitchen until he found a steak knife and promptly began to chop Mrs Rose into little pieces. Let's pause and think about the technicalities. It's not easy to chop through bone with a steak knife, and in order to chop a woman into little pieces you need to hack through bone. Second, this is incredibly bland. No emotion, no nothing. I don't even feel fear. I just go: oh okay. Not something you want happening.

He mopped all the blood with a cloth A cloth won't be enough. If he truly chopped her up, then there's going to be a massive amount of blood on the floor. and put the meat into the fridge. John crumpled up her teeth and bones How do you crumple up bones and teeth? Besides, her teeth are connected to her skull. It's only the lower jaw that's detachable. And the amount of time he'll need to slice off everything is insane. It'll take a whole day, probably. and hid them under the bed with Mrs Rose’s bloody clothes. Then he left the house and walked to the woods to meet Bridie on her way.



John’s words echoed in Bridie’s mind as she walked away. She felt the man’s eyes burning into the back of her head, but she didn’t mind; she was used to men admiring her. She relished it. Bridie carried on down the needle-strewn path to her grandma’s. When she arrived she knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

“Grandma?” Bridie called, as she pushed open the door Why would she push open the door if she knew grandma kept it on a latch? She'd keep knocking and try the doorknob, maybe. Also, where is the panic? The fear? The paranoia?, which she knew her grandma always kept on the latch. She entered the house and tip-toeing on the ruby carpet, she looked around. She walked through the living room and peeked into the bedroom, but was unable to find her. Then she wandered into the kitchen with trepidation, unsure of what she would find, when suddenly she heard the front door creak open. “Grandma? Is that you?”

“Bridie?” a man’s voice replied. Wouldn't she worry?

Bridie left the kitchen and looked into the living room to see John, “John? What are you doing here?” That's it? No fear? No half-relieved half-suspicious glances?

“Well after I left you in the woods, I happened to see your grandmother going for a walk. She was on her way back here, but said that she couldn’t bear going back inside out of the sunlight and wanted to walk some more, so I offered to come here and keep you company until she returned.” That's not a very good excuse. Bridie probably would have run into the Grandma.

“Oh, that’s fine. I was going to make some dinner for grandma and I, would you like to join us?” Why does she trust him so easily? He certainly doesn't seem to make it easy to do so. I mean, mysterious guy from the woods, knows your grandma, wants to know where you're headed...I'd be suspicious.

“Certainly, in fact she said that she’d left some steaks in the fridge for us to have,” John said and ushered Bridie into the kitchen where they began to prepare the food. What? My suspension of disbelief was broken somewhere back there, but this one is really something else. He's overstepping boundaries by deciding what's for dinner. As a guest he shouldn't say anything. Also, he's being incredibly pushy.

After the steaks had been cooked, Mrs Rose had still not returned. John suggested they eat whilst they waited, so they did. That's just bad manners. THe grandma's the host. How could they not wait for her?

After eating, John looked at Bridie and smirked.

“You’re a slut,” John said.

Bridie was taken aback and replied, “I- I’m not.” She's not even mad? What the heck?

“You are. I see the way you walk around here, swinging your hair, wearing that sultry red coat. You know the way people look at you, so why do it?”

“I don’t know...” ... Why is she so complacent? I think she's more likely to slap him at this point.

“It’s because you want men to look at you, you want them to want you and you’ve succeeded. I look at you, Bridie. I look at you whenever you come to visit your grandma. I watch and I wait and I want you. I want you now, Bridie. You can’t deny me, you must want it too or you wouldn’t act this way.” Oh my God. That's just so...I'm going to be honest. It's too stiff. It's almost hilarious because it tries too hard. Really, really hard. You could make it better by adding body language, showing us the crazed look in his eye and stuff.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please. Where’s my grandma?” At this point I'd be worried for my own life. Maybe panicking about grandma but yeah. And she ought to try and run away instead of just talking to him. And where is the emotion? At this point I'm still: ...

“You don’t remember? You ate her, Bridie.”

“What?”

“You ate her. The meat. You ate her.”

Bridie’s stomach clenched and bile crept up her throat as she thought about the tough meat Just because it's human meat doesn't mean it's tough. She probably overcooked it is all. No such thing as tough meat if you know how to cook it. they had eaten. She looked at John’s wide eyes Wide eyes usually represent innocence or surprise unless there's a manic glint in them and since you didn't say anything about hungry shines or stuff...>>" This scene is really weird in my head. and knew he was telling the truth. How could she have done this? She felt sick and John began to reach over and pat her back. ...This better be a circular table they're sitting at. Because if it's square I imagine she'd sit opposite him and it's pretty weird that he could just reach over and pat her back.

“There, there. See how easy it was to eat your grandma? Now there’s something else that needs to be done. Come to bed with me, Bridie.” No transition. Oo He suddenly jumps from one topic to another. Really insane.

“What?” And she still doesn't try to run. ._. Fight or flight.

“Take your clothes off and get into to bed with me,” he repeated. Why not just tear it off himself? I doubt he could wait.

Bridie was so dazed and confused after learning that she had just eaten her grandmother, so she did as he said. Dazed and confused isn't likely. Hysterical is a more appropriate reaction. And why should she believe him? He doesn't have any proof that it's her grandmother she ate. There should be adrenaline pumping through her. He'd made it obvious she was crazy, so why is she just sticking around? She lay there, quiet and sickened as he lay next to her. John’s naked body was just as hairy as his face. She looked at his hairy legs, large torso and bearded face. She was surprised to see up-close as he lay on her how large his ears were, and his wide-eyes that looked ready to eat her up. Then she saw his teeth. His large, pointed, yellowed teeth and she cried and felt as though she was being eaten alive by John, the wolfish man. The metaphor at the end doesn't work at all. You don't really need to tell us that.