Snow White encounters the Werewolf of Red Riding Hood

where bark meets flesh, the sun 

forgets to rise. 

yellow pleats and rubber boots, 

forests humid with June. 

she heads out into the woods 

in the search for the Prince,

declared dead by the town though 

no body has been found. 

her hair is greying from the roots 

and is much longer

than when she last ate the poisoned fruit. 

look into her basket and you'll find

a rusted locket, a knife wrapped 

in moonlight, her pocket

mirror contaminated 

with fingerprints. waxy crisp apples still wet, 

leaves still intact.

here, her face is unrecognizable—

there is too much unsaid ruin

between the pine trees. the crickets

chirping from the burrows, sensing her pace. but her hair 

frizzes with hope. (the night sky forgot

the nectar it once tasted 

and burns with her ashy skin.) then came 

the squeaky boots, crunching 

the dead—fallen leaves, beetle 

remains, pine cones

and roots sleeping over stones.

there were moments 

where the darkness rolled

over her eyes, moulding into a sharp memory,  

and everything slipped out. an apple

fell out of her basket

tumbling down and covered itself 

in dirt and ants, aching with a bitterness—

that stops at a familiar-

looking shoe. dark blue leather, frosted 

with polish—strangely cracked 

from the sides, 

a red cape he wore 

over his arched back,

hiding something— 

which revealed

everything. 

there is no way to go

back now without knowing 

who swallowed who. 

“The fairest of my town” 

here, light is half the pain 

as her basket stretches out on the ground. 

her knife, splotched with dried blood.  

one singular boot. a torn ruffle. 

locket, 

broken. 

hello idk what this is but it's something 🙏 i cannot write a short story for the life of me so trying to put it in a poem is fun!!!