A Dark Dwarf And A Crimson Red

• Athanasius Eskander, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2008

The Dwarf, as he was widely known roundabouts, cut a forlorn figure marching alone through the forest. The spotted sunlight gleaming through gaps in the thick, leafy canopy above, shed violently bright light on The Dwarf’s upper body. In stark contrast, the lower was shaded in shadows making The Dwarf a seemingly monstrous aberration of light. The squelch of moist soil underfoot as The Dwarf trampled it seemed a protest that was doomed to fall on deaf ears. The heavily scented air made The Dwarf irritable. He did not appreciate the smell of budding flowers and so it was with a broad grin that he exited the forest, having reached his destination.

“Your late dwarf,” Wolf said from the entrance to his rather uninviting cottage.
“My apologies,” The Dwarf replied, biting back a snide reply.
“Well get down to it!” Wolf snapped. “I’ve been waiting too long for this.”
“The plan’s quite simple,” The Dwarf said, forcing himself to keep calm but growing increasingly frustrated. “I’ve laid out another trap for my dearest sister. It’s at the crossroads to grandmother’s house, so either way she comes she’ll fall. Now, finally, Red’s hood will take on the truly bloody sheen it’s so long deserved.”
“Excellent,” Wolf answered absently, salivating merely at the prospect of human flesh, but made all the sweeter because this particular human would elude him no more.

Wolf came around as The Dwarf slammed the door behind him with an unnecessary force. The Dwarf wasn’t sure whether to be satisfied with his progress or disgruntled at his reentrance into the forest, but as Harvey the Hummingbird arrived he decided on the latter.
“Good evening Harvey,” The Dwarf preempted, exasperatedly attempting to ward off what was to come. “May I enquire as to the topic of the lecture today?”
“You certainly may,” Harvey twittered in response. “Have you really no sense of morality, or if not that, then at least decency? How can you even mull over the thought of murdering your sister?”
“Look,” The Dwarf said, abruptly stopping and turning so that Harvey’s beak almost speared his eye. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Red’s had her fifteen minutes in the sun and now its time for someone else.”
“Someone else to do what?” Harvey questioned defiantly. For such a small bird, Harvey showed an incredible persistence in the face of dangers much bigger than himself.
“To make a difference, that’s to do what. I, unlike my naïve sister, have a much grander agenda in store for this forest and the village, so I suggest you stick to bird business. Meddling in human affairs doesn’t make you one.”

Harvey, on the verge of reply, shut his beak as The Dwarf’s last comment struck him. Deeply hurt, Harvey retired to his nest.
“Maybe The Dwarf is right. Maybe the time for change has come.” Harvey contemplated.

Though, whether the time for change was ripe or not was of little significance, for change was on the horizon as surely as the gruesome murder of one Little Red Riding Hood was taking place this very instant.