Little Red Riding Hood

United Kingdom

Don't just be another brick in the wall.

I also love summer evenings, cats, bubbles and cuddles :)

Message from Writer

I'm a teenage girl with a peculiar mind. I try to make sense of this hectic world through writing and it does work, sometimes. I really want to become a better writer, maybe even have something published one day.. that would be amazing. It's probably worth mentioning that a lot of my pieces are not finished and probably never will be finished, but I'm proud of them regardless, which is why I publish them. It's also probably worth mentioning that some of my pieces deal with quite dark and sad topics. I'll put trigger warnings at the start of the pieces that I believe should have trigger warnings but if you have any problems with any of the other ones, please let me know. I don't want to hurt anybody.
LR xx

It's you, blackbird, I love.

March 12, 2016


Whenever we’re asked what we want to be when we grow up, most people put: a singer, a doctor, or even the prime minister. However I put something different.  I put unseen. Because when people can’t hear me or see me, they very rarely come near me. That distance is a drawbridge guarding me from pain; but when the drawbridge falls, it’s the bullies’ turn to reign. I try to fight back but all defence leaves me quivering on the ground. At that point I feel smaller than the ants beneath my feet and the pain that resides in me screams louder than any of my cries.

The bullies leave- only to return with re-enforcements. Cricket bats and metal poles and more fists to add to the collection of black and purple shades that paint my skin. My option is to run, but run to where? I can’t go home, they’ll only shout at me more, “Why is your uniform ripped? What is this blood? Go and clean yourself up you filthy piece of shit,” They don’t question the bruises, or tears on my face but why would they? To them I’m a mistake that shouldn’t have been made, and now they have to live with me until the debt has been re-paid. But I’ll take that burden off of their shoulders for them and I’ll carry it on my own.

Standing up I shake off the blood-stained leaves that stick to my tights and breathe in. With a final look around at the scrappy field, I take off. My broken school shoes slap against the dirt, creating billows of dust behind me. Running through the suburban streets the stares from those who see me are like daggers in my back. I want to stop and tell them that it isn’t my fault, and how they shouldn’t see me the way they do, but I cant. So I carry on. Running across roads through frustrated cars and past mothers cooing at their babies in arms. I drag my feet to a stop at a nearby tree and collapse at its roots. There are tears in my eyes as my lungs cry mercy and for once; I let them fall.

A soft cawing tells me that I’m no longer alone. Peeping out from underneath my hair I spy a bird. A black bird. He studies me with his piercing eyes, cocking his head to one side as if to ask “Why are you crying?” He caws again. Unexpectedly, his wing brushes against my grazed hand as he looks up at me. Once more he caws and then hops away a few paces but looks back, his eyes telling me to follow. I stand up quickly, ignoring the jarring pain in my arms and legs, not wanting to lose him. The blackbird hops through a hole in the fence so I do the same and for a moment I think I’ve lost him but he’s there, waiting for me on the other side.

I could hardly believe that such exquisite beauty could exist in these parts, but it was all here, hiding, waiting to be found. Sitting back I take in my surrounding and notice how the evening sun filters down through the trees creating pools of dappled light in the clearings. Squirrels scurry through the leafy forest floor bounding over fallen logs and across trickling streams. Up in the canopy the birds sing their evening chorus accompanied by the gentle breeze that carries the scent of the wild honeysuckle across the forest. I look down at the blackbird who is waiting patiently by my side. “Thank you.” I whisper. He caws a final time and then joins his brothers in the trees adding his own unique melody to the song.

My feet make the decision to leave, and the rest of my body gladly follows. The low branches caress my tear-stained face as I wind in and out of the trees. Ahead of me is a large clearing, protected by a thick of green. The earth is soft beneath my now bare feet and smells warm in my hands. I gaze up at the sky imaging the orange and pink streaks as my blanket. It calms me. For the first time in what seems like forever, I feel content. The forest quietens, the birds have stopped singing; the squirrels have stopped scurrying. Everything becomes very still. Just as my eyes are closing, I spot the black bird perched up in a nearby tree, watching over me like my own little guardian angel. He starts to sing his own secret lullaby, the sound drifting softly around me, cleansing me of all my pain, all my bitter memories. I can rest at last. My mind finally in complete and utter peace.


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  • March 12, 2016 - 2:12pm (Now Viewing)

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