|Once Upon A Time
By Stephen A Abell
Number of words: 253
He walked into the clearing and spotted the tiny thatched cottage. It sat back against the far trees and looked as quaint as any fairytale picture could.
A wizened old woman sat on the bench, between window and door, watching his slow and sly advance. She looked peaceful enough. Though, Hansel and Gretel would have warned him otherwise.
Smiling at him, she stood up and extended a hand in welcome.
“Hello, little doggie,” she croaked in a sweet and cracked voice. “I bet you’d like some biscuits, wouldn’t you. Well you’re in luck; I’ve just taken some fresh gingerbread men out of the oven.”
A smile crept upon his lips, stretching the flesh around his mouth back to reveal sharp white incisors. Settling into a pounce, he exhaled a plume of breath, from his snout, into the chilly winter air. The old hag must be nearly blind, he thought, she thinks I’m some stray begging for scraps.
With that he was airborne and flying over the gate and across the flag paving to where the grinning old woman stood. He saw her jugular, under the cracked and paper-thin skin of her throat, pulse with her heartbeat.
So enrapt was he with his prey, he missed the flash of metal as she brought the knife sharply and deeply up into his belly…
As her granddaughter skipped into the clearing, wearing her red hooded cape, she licked her lips in anticipation as the cooking smell made her salivate.
“Hhmm,” she sighed. “Wolf pie. My fave.”
For the contest "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" based on the prompt “Include Flag, Bench, & Gate in your story.”
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