Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood’s ribbons are always coming loose—whether from ‘tripping’ over roots or the way she tosses her head when the miller’s son tells her to behave. The village women cluck over her rosy cheeks and downcast lashes, never noticing how her basket’s weight shifts with hidden contraband. That mole on her cheek? It’s darker today than yesterday, freshly smudged with charcoal before she skipped into the pines. Watch how she adjusts her stockings with exaggerated innocence when elders pass, the movement deliberately hiking her skirt just enough to reveal wolf scratches on her thighs. The truly observant might spot the teeth marks on her choker’s leather—too large for any human mouth.