I never wanted to be Little Red Riding Hood.
I like long walks in the woods. I like being alone in the woods. I just didn't want to deal with the end of the road. The end of the road meant Grandma's house. I was afraid of being eaten by the wolf. See, I've never been the kind of girl who gets a knight in shining armour. I have to do things for myself. When you get eaten by the wolf, how the heck do you get out? Would I be smart/prepared/lucky enough to have slipped a knife in the garter of my striped socks? Sometimes I am. I wouldn't want to have to count on that, though.
I never wanted to be Little Red Riding Hood because it meant being rescued. I didn't want to be helpless. I wanted the rescue to be a last resort. In that story, for a happy ending, rescue is inevitable. Grandma is a little old lady. She's not prepared. You can tell just by the way people read her lines in the story. She's crotchety, not clever. Little Red Riding Hood, well, she doesn't talk the wolf out of eating her, and she doesn't run away. She just sits in the stomach and waits for the Woodsman.
If I sat around and waited, I probably would end up digested. That's just my luck.
I never wanted to be Little Red Riding Hood.
Little Red Riding Hood was the topic of July/August's Fairytale Collab.