A Forest Stained Red

Jack Lumber stood before the wolf, sneering at it’s headless body.

“Well, there ya go ma’am, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” Jack sauntered towards the door, lighting his cigar.

“Wait!” Amanda Gray screeched.

Jack swerved his head around, frowning as he blew out the wisp of smoke through his nostrils. He scanned her bluntly.

Ms. Gray was an annoying old hag that feared everyone and everything. Many people thought she was such an adorable, helpless old woman that just needed a friend. She was no woman, and there was no way in hell she was adorable, she was ancient people! Her hair was a silver mop, weaved into a ball, similar to a vultures crippled nest. She was a ghastly beast who lurked this home. Surprisingly she was still even alive, or so it seemed. Jack swallowed the taste of vomit that penetrated his tongue, the taste swelled and stung deep inside his mouth, sending fumes of disgust to trap itself within his skull. His eyes watered a bit.

“Well what do you need?” Jack spat out.

Amanda glared at him then shifted her gaze upon the beheaded wolf. “What do you suppose I do with this?” Her face scrunched up, repulsed by the excruciating stench.

“Keep it as a souvenir, hang it upon your wall. NO.” Jack dropped the cigar, and and smashed it. “Hang it’s spine along your chandelier.”

Amanda frowned at him. “I have no chandelier, I live in a shack.”

Jack examined his surroundings, absorbing all of its shriveled half painted walls, chipped wooden trims, and the shadow like figures that seemed to dance alone in every corner. She really is alone up here.

“Then stuff the head, and hang it.” Jack mumbled annoyed. Just let me be god dammit! He strolled out, slamming the door shut behind him. He stopped and glared up at the murky sky.

Why am I just standing here? I have no more business here. Just before he would unglue each step, and return to work, a girl jumped at him tumbling them both down the hill cloaked in debris.

She screeched as she held onto him fearfully. A rock jabbed into her shoulder, giving off enough pressure to puncture the skin, and gush out blood. The rolling suddenly stopped.

The girl laid there along his body.

“What the hell kid!” Jack glared at the girl, tossing her off of him. “You wanna’ get killed!” He rose up patting off the debris from his torn pants. As he gazed down, he realized the girl was gone. Jack shrugged it off, still furious and swerved around. The girl stood before him.

Jack saw a pale girl, a cold girl. She looked as if she’s seen a ghost, or maybe she is the ghost. He thought as he gazed at her ice-pale skin. Her hair also had a part in this play, it was jet-black, almost too black too even believe it was her hair. Which honestly made her face pure as snow, and flawless. No blemishes, no freckle, no scar had embraced the girl’s face. Jack examined her closer, the girl wore striped, black and white stockings that ceased as they kissed her knees. He saw a belted corset wrapped around her waist, fitting her perfectly, the silken-laces clean and smooth, seemed to dance and weave into each other. Perfection, like a romantic embrace. A long ruffled-black skirt, hung lazily, almost obscuring her “striped” knees. As Jack studied her longer, he noticed she wore a long-sleeved shirt. In the middle of spring? The sleeve of this shirt nearly concealed her entire hand, only leaving her fingers out in the open. There was only one thing, one thing that brightened this girl, that made her pop (compared to her surroundings at least), that made her particularly peculiar. She wore a vibrant red, hooded-cloak. She wore this hood close to her eyes, the shadows blackened her eyes, yet her emerald-colored irises still penetrated through the cloak’s darkness.

“Do you see a bleak world Mr. Jack?” The girl whispered, cocking her head slightly.

Jack arched a brow, not quite understanding where this is going.

“Do you believe in possessions Mr. Jack?”

Jack held in a breath, as the girl sauntered towards him. All he wanted was to leave this insane Asylum, and sleep. “Kid.” Jack sighed a bit, leaning in closer tilting his head to the side. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove, or what you want, and I could really care less.” He sneered. “So why don’t you run along home, and play with your dolls like a good girl okay?”

The girl stared at him blankly. She didn’t even move. “My home is here, yet I have no dolls. And if you did not care Mr. Jack, you would have ignored my intrusion, and you would have run along home like a good man.” The girl smirked.

Just as Jack was about to leave, the girl snatched him by the nape, gripped him tightly, and forced his head onto the window. Jack shuddered, he was a bit shocked at her impressive strength. Or was it fear that made him shiver?

“Okay kid what do you want? Do you want money? Candy? Anything?” Jack’s cheek began to burn against the scorching glass that gleamed from the sun’s golden tongue.

The girl’s forefinger began to tap gradually upon his nape, like a sedated drum, throbbing in tempo. It was so soothing, so subtle, so pure. Too pure, he thought.

“What do you see?” The girl poked his nose, then traced her finger along the window, pointing at the wolf obscured in blood. “Do you see what I see Mr. Jack?” She silently rasped.

Jack rolled his eyes, tired of playing this girl’s game. “I see a dead wolf, with its head resting at the other side of the room. Now if you don’t want to end up like him, I would suggest that you leave me be!” Jack struggled to release himself from her grip.

“Threats won’t get you anywhere sir Lumber.” She chanted quietly. “Threats won’t get you anywhere.”

Jack chuckled a bit, the feeling in his cheeks began to go numb. “Smashing stranger’s faces against windows won’t get you anywhere either sweetie.”

Jack groaned in pain as the girl pressured her grip.

“But we’re not going anywhere, now are we?” She whispered in his ear, her breath sent chills down his spine. Her breath was so cold, it was almost as if death stood beside him, and whispered in his ear.

“Hey easy now. There’s no need to cause pain.” Jack mumbled shakily.

“Oh but there is.” She released him. As Jack stretched and caressed his cheek, she watched him closely. Like a predator stalking the prey. “See people like you Mr. Jack, end up getting hurt.” She smirked. Her eyes gleamed beautifully in the sunlight, it nearly solidified his thoughts.

Jack watched her. The girl started to fiddle with her hands as she sauntered back and forth, back and forth. Then her smile faded as she shot a deadly glare at him.

“People like you Mr. Jack… end up in the grave.” She sang silently.

Jack froze, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do.

She shook her head continuing her tedious ‘waltz’. “But I don’t blame you, in life there will always be a winner, and there will always be a loser. Sometimes you’re the windshield, and sometimes you’re the bug.” She gazed at him. “Do you understand where I’m getting at Mr. Jack?”

Anger flooded his entire body, it boiled, and jabbed upon his chest. He felt as if the anger would soon claw and teeth through his torso. He could already feel the flesh burn.

Jack threw up his arms, befuddled and irritated. “No! I don’t understand! I don’t understand what this has to do with anything! I don’t even understand why I’m still here! I don’t-

“Do you know what happens to bugs like you, that encounter windshields like me?” She whispered. Her eyes grew dim as she reached into her cloak. She yanks out a dagger, and lifts it at eye level. The glossy beak glimmered gloriously against the suns beam, it almost seemed self-absorbed in it’s confidence. It was dull, and yet he knew the girl wanted it that way. She didn’t care for the sharp tooth of the dagger, she only cared for that slow painful death, that would leave her victim screaming for years, even if they were good as gone. It was all about sufferance. And the torment was what she craved. Jack knew this blade was used many time before, it still embraced the precious blood of it victims, the dagger was only waiting to approach upon another to sink its teeth into. To stalk him, to capture him, to play with him, then finally the dagger would pierce its god damn tongue deep, and drink the blood that once was owned by a roaming man. The thought penetrated him, nearly leaving him dizzy.

The girl shined the dagger a bit, then pointed it at him, targeting his heart. He knew it was his heart. He felt the sharp fang already piercing him.

She strolled closer towards him. “Well?”

There was no answer. He couldn’t spit it out because he knew if he did, those would be his last words, or maybe he would have spoken no word at all..

“They die Mr. Jack. Everything about them, everything they believed in, everything they saw and felt, everything they seen and what may have seem, would have been crushed completely.” She threw her hand back, then lunged it forward, going for his throbbing heart.

His eyes shut, and his arms flung up, hoping to shield himself from this dreadful nightmare. “Wait! Wait! Please w-what do you w-want? Anything… I-I can give it to you.” He stuttered.

Her hand stopped swiftly, and her eyes fell upon his eyes. The girl held dagger close, it nearly nearly kissed his shirt. “It’s not what you can give, it’s what you can do.”

Jack shook his head quickly, as he gradually pushed her hands away from his upper torso. “Anything. What do you want me to do?” He asked a bit relieved, yet still fearful.

“Listen.” She put the weapon away, the obscuring it. Like it never existed. “Once upon a time, there was a window, and behind this window, laid a big bad wolf.”

“A dead wolf.” Jack added.

“Shut up!” The girl spat, then continued. “This wolf was once alive, until an old lady screamed for help.”

Jack smiled high and proud. “Then I came.”

The girl glared at him, his smile faded.

“Mr. Jack came and beheaded the beast, believing he shot him dead bang.”

Jack examined her, befuddled. “But I did, the head is no longer attached.” He glanced back at the window. “You see? You see? He’s covered in his own blood, all his guts splayed across the floor!”

“Mr Jack believed he killed the beast, but what if hero is no longer a hero, but a victim?” She whispered gazing down at her buckled combat boots.

“What are you speaking of kid!” Jack glanced back at the window. “Look! No life is in the little fucker! There’s the proof!”

“What if the whole story changes, what if Mr. Jack is the big bad wolf, and the big bad wolf is Mr. jack?”

Jack chuckled nervously. “Kid you have quite an imagination, you know that? You should put that to good use and write books, instead of fooling with me!” Jack yelped.

“What if the end of the wolf was no end at all? What if he was already dead, before he could was killed? Do you believe in possessions Mr. Jack?” The girl smirked.