Dear Amy

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

Here’s what happened: The huntsman burst in wielding a knife, and lunged at me! In my shock, I coughed up the Grandma. I said sorry, truly, and ran off, hoping to mend my ways. I wound up in a bar in NYC, drinking with humans who were all peace and harmony, until one of us bit one of them—justified! Then it was omg throw them out. Now I’m back in the woods, in the heart of temptation, where every guy and his girlfriend is noshing on Grandmas and Little Reds. How can I resist? What should I do?

Wolf

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe

Linda's stories and poems have appeared online in Outlook Springs, A Story in 100 Words, Star 82 Review, BOMBFIRE, Misfit Magazine, and others.

Little Red Riding Hood And The American War For Independence

Red waited on the river bank, her nervous eyes on the church tower, repeating the instructions to herself: One if by land, two if by sea.

When two lanterns appeared, she jumped on her pony and raced into town, shouting to every townsperson she encountered, "The British are coming! The British are coming!"

Unfortunately, her red riding hood proved a poor wardrobe choice, considering the enemy was particularly famous for their red coats.

Red became the first casualty of the war. She may have died prematurely, without ever getting to say goodbye to her grandmother, but she died a hero.