Chasing Tales

Chasing Tales

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

Having grown up in a village somewhere to the north under the terrified stories of a werewolf, Red riding hood takes it upon herself to find the creature, and rescue the village from its forever state of turmoil. This is a remake of Little Red Riding hood, but as always, it is 18+ and not suitable for anyone whom is squeamish and/or faint of heart. May contain scenes of a sexual nature, gore, horror, and scenes that may make some readers uncomfortable. Proceed with caution.

Summary

Having grown up in a village somewhere to the north under the terrified stories of a werewolf, Red riding hood takes it upon herself to find the creature, and rescue the village from its forever state of turmoil. This is a remake of Little Red Riding hood, but as always, it is 18+ and not suitable for anyone whom is squeamish and/or faint of heart. May contain scenes of a sexual nature, gore, horror, and scenes that may make some readers uncomfortable. Proceed with caution.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 1.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 10, 2017

Reads: 188

Comments: 1

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 10, 2017

A A A

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Silver poured over purple. Flowers in the shape of pitchers sprouted up from between straw topped huts, growing in soil left there for that very purpose. A thick fog had rolled into the village that particular night, shrouding anything it could and wrapping it in cold, sight-obscuring tendrils.


The village, as it had been for years, was a small, mostly serene and trouble-free place. The people there lived their lives in peace only fearing one thing, only when the full moon approached and for the nights after it had passed. It was a wolf that the village feared.


A wolf that walked on six sets of feet. Four feet for the full moon, and two for the times in-between. 


While no one had truly seen such a creature, and hoped that the wolfs bane atop their homes would fend it off and protect them, there were always stories, rumours of killings. Children snatched from their beds. Wives taken, husbands slaughtered.


Rumour had it that only those brave or foolish enough would go after the wolf. They would have had to have a death wish to want to be so close to death. 


That very rumour had fallen upon the inquisitive ears of one such individual, though. One such individual by the name of Valarie, otherwise known as Red.


Having grown up surrounded by rumours of wild wolves and mythical creatures, the werewolf was Red's favourite. Teeth as big as knives, paws able to knock you off your  feet with a single sweep. Eyes that gleamed as brightly as the moon itself.


Of course, hadn't the faintest idea what Red was really thinking when they were holding 'private' meetings about hunting the creature, and saving their precious village from its malicious antics.


Valarie was a woman of her early twenties, having gained her unique nickname because of a long, red winter cloak given to her by her grandmother on her eighteenth birthday. Ever since, she had worn it. A streak of scarlet flickering over the blanket of winter white that covered the village every year.


Her hair hung in long, dark ringlets, her skin a soft peach. Reds eyes were big, gentle green gems beneath frames of long lashes, lips a blushed pink, parted some in the winter air.


When she was young, she had been ushered out of the meeting place on multiple occasions. The  villagers hadn't wanted her to hear of their plans to kill the wolf. To Red, the wolf was but a myth for the longest time. Up until she had been seventeen, she had seen nor heard no trace of the creature, and so, for a while, been led to not believe it truly existed. Mere stories, made up for children. That was, until, she'd seen the creature lurking in the forest nearby; or at least thought she had. It had been dark at the time, and folk weren't really supposed to, nor were they allowed to venture as far as the dark part of the woods. It was a dangerous place that harboured wild dogs, feral creatures and lord knows what else.


The fact that she had been to the forbidden place of course, meant Red could tell no one. Not even her best friend, Hazel, whom she could trust with her life. 


But of course, Red had ventured to the dark parts of the woods. She went there more often than she should have, and not even Hazel knew where she'd gone for hours upon hours. Red had told people she'd gone to hide and forage for berries, more wolfsbane, to both spruce up the flavourless dishes the village made up, and to 'fend' them from the wolf.
Now, crouched beneath the gate to the stables, Red watched, and Red listened. The blacksmith, known as Logan, was whispering harshly to her father, who was Marcus, about the livestock being less in numbers. They'd gone from full pens to just under. 


"How can we keep it under control, if it keeps taking our livestock?" The blacksmith half whispered, half growled, kicking a loose rock out of his way. Marcus, who was usually rather stern in his appearance, was unable to hide the glint of concern in his dark eyes. "I.. don't know, Logan." He told the blacksmith, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. "The wolf is getting to be a bigger problem than we can handle." He started, returning his attention to Logan. "If we don't kill it, it will kill us and everyone in the village." Marcus trailed off, leaving the blacksmith open mouthed and lost for an answer. The man merely nodded and turned, walking past the stables and toward the marketplace. 


Red remained crouched until the coast was clear and her father had gone off in the other direction. When it was, the young woman rose to her feet, gathered her basket under one arm, pulled her crimson hood over her head, and made a beeline for the dark part of the forest.


© Copyright 2017 NonchalantNightmare. All rights reserved.

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