I wrote a poem that was sparked by this comic. (Seriously read if you like kind of creepy, supernatural stuff).


When he was young

His heart was raw meat.

The sting turned him mean,


The Big Bad Wolf

Came to be.

He searched far and wide for a new heart,

That would fit him.

He sought one,

With his terrible fangs, and his terrible claws,

And stitched his prizes into his skin.

The wolf came upon Red Riding Hood one day.

He saw her red, red hair,

And her smile.

And his raw heart beat the rhythm

Of the hunt.

But Little Red was clever.

She knew the woods as well as the wolf did,

And she had found home

In a man

Who would level the forests for her.

And the wolf couldn’t get past the front door.

But there are ways to lure little girls to the woods


The wolf took a form that he thought would please her.

Red smiled, but

She still didn’t venture into his lair.

Little Red was wily

And she had the woodsman at her back.

She wasn’t afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,

With his golden eyes and inky fur.

Red slipped through the trees,

And the wolf missed her every time.

But as she snuck through the trees

She heard his many hearts beating in the darkness.

The wolf was never far behind.

And he only had to be lucky


He found her home,

With the woodsman guard.

The door was still barred,

But the wolf had learned to be


He snuck to her window

And called to her.

“Little Red, Little Red, let me come in.”

But Red wasn’t little any more

And she had been bitten once before.

So she just blew him a kiss

and pulled the curtains shut.

It stung.

She didn’t summon her woodsman.

Red slipped through the forests sometimes.

She had things to do,

And she would not stand for her home

To be her prison.

 The wolf could never quite catch her,

And her scent drove him


The beat of the hunt still carried him

To her window at night.

She never let him in.

But she cracked it open sometimes,

And she let him talk to her from the darkness.

The wolf told her about the forests in the moonlight,

And the way the stars dusted silver

On the flowers.

Little Red laughed and said she would see them some day,

When he was gone,

And he’d never catch her.

So the wolf told her about his hearts instead,

And his heart.

Red didn’t laugh then.

She looked at him, and listened to the pounding,

Of all the stolen souls.

They would do him no good,

She said.

“Raw, is raw, is raw,

Until it is cooked.”

But she opened the window a little wider,

And the wolf felt heat

For the first time.

He tried to kiss her once,

And he found

That she had tricked him.

She didn’t need the woodsman.

Little Red Riding Hood had teeth,

And claws.

And she didn’t want kisses from a pretty wolf

With stolen hearts.

So he gave them back.

It hurt to tear them from his flesh,

And it hurt to stitch them into the chests

Of people he wanted to be strangers.

And it hurt to venture back into the woods


He felt naked without the beating.

His own heart stung the worse for it,

But Red smiled.

And he liked to see her smile.

“Don’t come out into the woods,

Little Red.

It is dangerous to be out here alone.”

She leaned from the window

And petted his inky hair.

“There’s no such thing

As the Big Bad Wolf,”

The woodsman caught him waiting at her window

One evening.

He laughed.

“Silly wolf,” he said.

“Red is a better hunter than you.”

She opened her window for him.

But the wolf couldn’t bear

For her to look at him.

His ugly, raw heart was obvious now.

So he stayed amongst the trees,

Until all she could see were his pretty, golden eyes

In the darkness.

Little Red smiled,

And she had fangs.

“You shouldn’t be out in the woods alone.

It isn’t safe

For a Little Wolf.”

And he gave her his heart,

So she could cook it.