Modern Day Little Red Riding Hood Novels & Stories

I dropped more blood on their faces, and they were now too weak to even growl because of the excruciating pain. Wolfsbane lit your blood on fire. I tightened my cloak and pulled my red hood over my head, keeping my head low as I dashed toward granny's cabin. Time to leave the pack. I wore a red hood cloak ever since Granny told me the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Werewolves attacked me all the time, and I wanted to be a cool wolf-hunter version of her, handling all the bad wolves that attempted at my life neatly. They didn't scare me anymore, what scared me now was--

I snarl, my jaw elongating into a muzzle, fangs glinting. She smiles. “I should think the red hood would give it away. But trauma makes things fuzzy. I’m the Red One. The head of the Riding Hoods. And I need you to come with us.” “I’m not going anywhere.” Her expression softens into mock pity. “I do wish you’d rethink that. I’d hate to hurt your mother.” “LET HER GO!” I roar, my claws gleaming in the dim light. “I swear on the Crone’s Dagger—I will not harm your mother if you come with me.”

Everyone is fighting for equal rights for everybody, regardless of their species. I've never given much thought to how different the world is today. Ten years ago, humans didn't know about pixies, werewolves, vampires, trolls, or witches existing. Or maybe we had forgotten? Either way, the streets are full of them now. When I walk down the stairs leading to the trains, I see pixies messing with an old lady. They are playfully flying around her head while holding her glasses, snickering at the old lady who can't catch them.

How could she focus on herself right now? With no other choice, she started telling stories to distract him. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved wearing a red hood, so people called her Little Red Riding Hood. One day, her mother asked her to bring cake and wine to her sick grandmother, who lived on the other side of the forest. Little Red Riding Hood…" Renee racked her brain to remember childhood stories, doing her best to sound lively. "You're…so noisy!" Jasper said with a strained frown, barely able to get the words out.

“Then you better watch out, Red Riding Hood. I’m coming for you.” Mama clapped her hands, Papa laughed, and for a moment, the room was nothing but warmth and family. Halloween wasn’t just about candy tonight. It was about belonging — about showing Koda that he had roots, traditions, and a family who would always dress up, laugh, and howl right alongside him.

Arthur was saying as he crossed his arms over his chest, clearly worried. “Haven’t you neutralized that threat already? Besides, Harden should no longer be a threat to us, right? I mean, what could he do? After you beat him black and blue that one time, he should’ve learned his lesson, right?” Elara breezily said, as tied her hair up in a ponytail. Tonight she was going as Little Riding Hood. And her costume even came with a red cape and a basket in which she could store goodies in. Elara decided to use it like a handbag and put money, her ID, and some mascara and lip gloss inside.

I ran up the steps and knocked on the door. “Come on, girl, I already heard your panting so well, why knock so loudly,” it was Laura Cooper, Morgan and Trent Cooper's mother, Reed and Kira's grandmother. That's who I would call a mother wolf. When I read "Little Red Riding Hood" as a child, instead of a wolf in the image of a grandmother, I imagined Mrs. Cooper. I was scared as hell of her as a child. Even though I still get goosebumps. Of course, only one like her could have two alpha sons. She slowly opened the door. A thin, gnarled hand squeezed the doorknob hard, and an old woman appeared in the opening. A dark penetrating gaze met mine. Nothing changes. As in childhood, I froze in front

Sometimes curveballs turn into homeruns. I found a painting in the attic of Brookstone and promptly hung it over the fireplace. It’s the portrait of a woman wearing a long red cloak with several wolves behind her in the forest. The woman looks a lot like me. Call her what you want, Little Red Riding Hood, Scarlet Nightingale, or Great-Great-Great-Great Grandma. She was a lot of things, but just like me, she was, most of all, a Mage of Wolves, and there’s nothing else I’d rather be.

I quickly walked over to Jack, who stirred in the bed, and crawled over his legs that were covered by the blanket. His eyes opened, and I bit my lip as they moved over the thin piece of clothing that covered me. What I had on was a simple seductive one-piece ensemble in red and white lace, paired with white stockings covered in Christmas patterns. "Good morning," I breathed out, and his eyes moved to meet mine. "Jesus Christ, Amanda," he whispered, resting his upper body on his elbow. I leaned forward with a small smile playing on my lips. "Merry Christmas, baby."

She told herself the faint tingle was her imagination, just as the hot dreams she’d been having the past few nights had been nothing more than memories of her girlish rescue fantasies with the temperature turned up by her adult experiences. She traced the raised lettering. A version of Red Riding Hood with the wolf as both sinner and seducer and the woodsman as the hero who saves the girl and takes her away from her old life to a new, better one. Seeing the book, touching it made her mother feel closer than she had in years. Even if it turned out to be just a copy, it was worth whatever she had paid.