I have finally returned with a Six Sentence Story. Or two. This one here really makes more sense after this other first one THERE, posted a couple days ago. This one here is a retell that considers the traditional tale of Little Red Cape as a day/night myth and even a solstice myth. Thank you Denise for the prompt, “season”.
Turn, Turn, Turn
“Come in, come in, Red, I’ve been expecting you; that mother of yours, she always worries, doesn’t she, sends you way out here with her basket of food, but we know what to do, don’t we?”
Red did know; she was to take the basket of food into the woods and leave it there for the wolf’s family, for the wolf had given himself to the huntsman so that Red and her grandmother could line their red capes with his sable fur.
Her grandmother turned her cape this way and that and it was clear that the red outer side was becoming thin and frayed, the inside soft and downy as the night, “Like your cape, my dear, but yours will be like new in the morning, mine not until spring.”
When Red returned from leaving the food in the woods it had been a very long day for her and she turned her cape so that the black wolf fur showed, then her grandmother tucked her in, crooning ‘Goodnight Little Light, sleep tight until the morn’.
Red’s grandmother didn’t mind that her own outer cape would continue to lose its luster until in six moons she too would reverse it to its shiny black inside, for as she often said, to everything there is a season.