Once upon a time in a vast land of what was a cross of reality and the unforeseen fantasy of the mind. There was once a little girl who tended to her grandmother whom was ill and had not much to do in the ways of traveling. Yet the old woman was... Crazed, demented even for she didn't know right from wrong and reality from fantasy. Hallucinations plagued her mind from time to time, often enough changing what she perceived as real. But Little Red Riding Hood knew not of this all but had occasionally visited her old grandmother in spite of it all the discouragement.

The little girl often visited her grandmother time and time again, bringing an assortment of treats, food and other gifts she often liked. She was a young girl of only about thirteen years of age, maybe fourteen at best. Everyday when she before going out and about through the lovely country, she would don her favorite bright red sweater of sorts complete with a hood. This sweater is what earned the little girl her nickname, Little red riding hood.

When she would set out, the basket she carried was filled with a few things for her sick grandmother. Homemade cookies baked in a fine oven, freshly baked bread made of wheat which always seemed to be her favorite. With a bouquet of red flowers to top it all off, the little girl had set out on her walk to her grandmother's house. Out in the country, there was hardly a neighbor for a mile or two down either end of the road. Lush rolling hills and tall fine oak trees tower over the local flora nearby little red riding hood's house. Skipping along after bidding leave to her mother, she traveled up and along the old dusty road that sprawled all throughout the forest.

As little red riding hood headed toward her grandmother's house, her grandmother was at home sitting in bed. Alone in the wide bed she sat with heavy woolen blankets over her lower half. With pale grey hair thinned from age her bony features lined her face and gave a sort of a skeletal appearance. The solemn eyes stared vacantly, devoid of what she may have felt and just simply stared at the wall. She rose her hand, skinny and pale as it was, and curled her fingers in till she was pointing. Pointing at a wolfish grin that slowly faded into her gaze.

"Wolf..." She whispered, barely audible to whom who would hear it. Again the image flickered in her eyes and she repeated the word, speaking it over and over as she still stared at the wall with a blank daze.