Little Red Riding Hood

At the edge of a green village lived a girl who loved the red hood her grandmother had sewn for her. She wore it on cold mornings, warm afternoons, and even when the sun shone. Everyone called her Little Red Riding Hood.

One day her mother packed a basket with fresh bread, berries, and a small jar of honey. 'Grandmother has been feeling tired,' she said. 'Please take her these treats.

Follow the main path through the woods, and do not stop to talk with strangers.' Red tucked the basket into the crook of her arm and set off. The woodland path was bright with patches of sunlight.

Bees hummed over the flowers, and the leaves made a soft swishing sound above her head. Before long, a wolf stepped out from behind a tree. He wore an unusually pleasant smile.

'Good morning, little traveller. Where are you going?' Red remembered her mother's warning.

Still, the wolf sounded friendly, and she answered, 'To Grandmother's cottage, beyond the old oak tree.' 'What a lovely errand,' said the wolf. 'Surely she would like a bunch of flowers.'

He pointed toward a meadow just off the path. 'You will find the finest ones there.' Red hesitated.

The flowers were beautiful, and she wanted to make Grandmother smile. She wandered into the meadow to gather a few. Meanwhile, the wolf hurried along a shortcut to the cottage.

He knocked on the door and called in a squeaky voice, 'It's Red, Grandmother!' Grandmother was not fooled for long. The moment she saw his shadow through the window, she slipped quietly into the tall wardrobe and closed the door.

The wolf found her bed empty, so he put on her nightcap, pulled up the blanket, and waited. When Red finally reached the cottage, she noticed the door was ajar. 'Grandmother?' she called.

'Come closer, my dear,' croaked the figure in bed. Red paused. 'Grandmother, what large ears you have.'

'All the better to hear you.' 'And what large eyes you have.' 'All the better to see you.'

'And what enormous teeth you have!' 'All the better to frighten you!' shouted the wolf, jumping up. Red dropped the basket and dashed outside, calling for help.

A woodcutter repairing a fence nearby heard her voice. He hurried over, carrying a sturdy broom, and together they blocked the cottage door. The frightened wolf slipped out through the back window and ran deep into the woods, never to return to that village.

Then a quiet knocking came from the wardrobe. Red opened it, and out stepped Grandmother, safe but rather annoyed that a wolf had borrowed her nightcap. They hugged, shared the bread and berries, and told the woodcutter everything that had happened.

Red admitted that she had left the path and spoken to someone she did not know. 'Flowers are lovely,' Grandmother said, 'but your safety matters more than any bouquet.'

On her walk home, Red stayed on the main path. The trees were just as beautiful as before, but she looked at them with wiser eyes. And from then on, she remembered that friendly words are not the same as trustworthy actions.