Little Red Riding Hood

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me invincible, immortal.

I’m a little Red, hopping down the bunny trail. Over the river, through the woods, to the house made of gingerbread I go. Hansel and Gretel got nothing on me.

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me victorious, indestructible.

I’m a little Red, hopping down the bunny trail, a basket for my grandmother in hand. Along came a spider and sat down beside her, but I scared that old wolf away.

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me powerful, omnipotent.

“What small, beady eyes you have,” said the spider to the fly. “I can see you just fine,” was the fly’s reply. “Your snout is filled with sharp, little teeth,” said Red to the wolf, “but you… (Thump!) won’t… (Whack!) eat… (Thunk!) me! (Thwat!)”

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me invisible, indescribable.

“The blood on the walls doesn’t match the grandmother,” Red overheard.
“Then it must be the huntsman. His wolfs-head hat was found under the bed, the snout chopped in two.”
“No, no, I’m merely nicked,” Red’s grandmother said. “She came in and just didn’t understand that he wasn’t hurting me. It…It was just a…game. She grabbed his axe and started swinging.”

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me visceral, unaccountable.

“It’s the cape. Every time she puts it on, something changes. It’s like she’s not herself.” Grandmother said to the man in black.

Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me omnipresent, neither here nor there.

Peter, Peter, red cape eater, had a wife and couldn’t keep her. So he put her in a prison cell and there he kept her very well.

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This week’s Master Class, hosted by Eric Storch of Sinistral Scribblings, was brought to you by Roxanne from Unintentionally Brilliant. She chose Kelle Groom’s book I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl whose opening line is: Morphine makes me weightless, airborne.

I’m also linking this up with #FridayFlash.

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Thanks for stopping in!