I wrote this as part of this contest. Please enjoy.
Sheep in Wolf’s Clothes
“You don’t really think I look like that beast, do you?
Although Red couldn’t see her grandmother’s face in the pitch black of the wolf’s stomach, she knew from the slight downturn of her voice that the question was meant to be both pitiful and insulting. She was begging for a compliment with a knife in her hand.
Red sighed quietly to herself. It had always been this way with her grandmother: Failure to visit resulted in guilt-ridden letters; visits were rewarded with sharp reprimands to visit more; standing to leave from a visit drew sulky expressions and the promise that she’d be dead long before Red ever visited again. She was a selfish old woman hungry for attention.
Red was fed up with it.
“Well, Grans, you know…sometimes you can be kind of wolf-like.”
In the darkness next to her, Red could hear her grandmother gasp lightly. Likely, she had pretended to swoon, momentarily forgetting that the two of them were blind.
After a few seconds, she huffed, “Well, I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Sometimes, I do,” Red replied sharply, wishing her grandmother could see the defiant look on her face.
After that, they sat in total silence until the hunter sliced open the wolf’s belly with his axe, breaking the darkness and blinding them both with light.
“Ladies,” he said, flashing what would be a charming smile under less irritating circumstances. Stepping aside, he bowed to them.
Red pushed out from the parted folds of wolf skin and fat. With a curt flap of her arms, she sent digestive goo flying from the tips of her fingers, splashing the walls of her grandmother’s house with the stuff as she stormed through the front door of the house with a blunt, “Goodbye.”
When the hunter’s eye fell back on Grans, she was wearing her favorite look of dejection. He offered her his hand, but she declined.
“That’s OK,” she said, seeming to sink lower into the cavernous belly of the wolf. “Reckon I’ll just sit in here for a bit longer.”