Claiming Red: A Dark Red Riding Hood Retelling

They called me Red for the cloak I wore. Soon they'd call me Red for the blood I spilled.

I saw my own death in a vision. Hands bound, water filling my lungs, the village elder counting the seconds while I drowned.

So I ran into the forest they warned us about. Into the dark that had swallowed my husband and six armed men and sent back pieces.

I didn't make it far.

I woke up in my dead grandmother's cottage with boards on the windows and a bar on the door. The man who put me there was tall, sca...