Chapter One : the PROLOGUE

Redd put the spray paint can back into her backpack and stepped back, looking over her work. Smirking proudly at her artwork scrawled across the wall, she slung the ratty old backpack over her shoulder and took off down the empty street, her scuffed sneakers slapping against the concrete. She yanked the hood of her dark red sweatshirt over her head as she ran, and snickered to herself.

She drew to a stop at the end of the street and turned down a long alleyway, checking to see if she was being followed before she slipped into the shadows.

Skidding out the other side of the alley, Redd threw her backpack to the ground, opened it, and took out the spray paint again, chucking it at the wall, where it bounced off with a clang and clattered to the ground, dented and cracked.

Getting ready to run, Redd fished out a cigarette and, lighting it, tossed it at the can. Going full speed, she made it around the corner before the can exploded into flames.


This is me. My name is Redd Hood, double D. When I was little, people used to call me Little Red Riding Hood. A-ha-ha. So funny. They thought they were so clever. Thought I was so cute. Whatever. I showed them as soon as I picked up that Tavor TAR-21.

Yep, I still remember my first gun. However, I never was one for assault rifles. Handguns are my thing. Easier to conceal, and a lot lighter.

I've been a hoodlum (ha-ha. Hood-lum. Get it?) for maybe three or so years; I'm fifteen now, os that means I've been running in the streets since I was twelve.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

I was thirteen when I ran into the Wolf and decided to pester him until he let me tag along. And yes, I'm talking about the Big Bad Wolf, otherwise known as Jakob Wolffe. I knew him from way back, when I was ten and ran into him in the woods on my way to my gran's house (a real oddball, my gran. Can't stand a clean house, and she has a cellarfull of guns. That's where I got my Tavor from.)

When I was fourteen, I got caught by the cops and held in the big house for six months. In Fairy Tale, they don't care what age you are, what crime you committed, or even if you had at all. It all depends on which cop catches you, and what kind of behaviour they tolerate.

There's practically no rules, here in Fairy Tale. No laws of physics, no laws of anything, really; the only laws that really matter are the laws of the street, the laws of nature, and the laws of the cops.

My imprisonment was brought upon me because of a bad cupcake.

Truth be told, it was poisoned, but not lethal, I swear. It wasn't my fault the little old lady I sold it to did not react well to that sort of poison.

I know, six months may seem a bit short for a manslaughtering, but that's because I broke out on May sixth, my birthday.

A fairly good birthday present, don't you think?

So. I broke out, and whaddya know, I'm back on the streets, and more BA than ever.

I know, you were expecting me to actually get into the story then, weren't you?

Sorry. False alarm.

This is not just my story; I have no intention of prattling about my life like an old grandmother with a denture-induced lisp and knitting needles on her lap. No, this is about a chase and the friends made along the way. It's no stroll in the park, so if you've got a weak stomach, leave now.

To be CONTINUED in.....

Meet Redd and Introducing the Wolf (v2)

yup. I gave FTTB a makeover, and now it's being written from Redd's pov. Much better, I think. Besides, the story was written last year (or even two years ago...I dunno) and it REALLY needed an update/makeover.

So. Tell me what you think?