Well, he looked like my granddaughter, with her red riding hood. Her scent wafted off him. Her mother must have sent her to check on me, even though I told her the wolves have come back. The road was so badly grown over, her horse wouldn’t make it through the tangle. So I let him in. And he ate me up. In later stories, the hunter kills the wolf and releases both grandmother and granddaughter from his belly.
In the podcast, Trick or Treat: Halloween Symbolism in Little Red Riding Hood Jonathan Pageau talks about how our homes are where we feel safe, it’s where we can close the door to the world, take off our street clothes, and relax, even sleep. I remember how violated and targeted I felt after someone stole my rings, nothing else, a few years back. Pageau says, “And then there are strangers that are in some ways so far from you that they don't have your good in mind, right?”
I’ve heard stories of wolves released in populated rural areas, the powers ignoring humans’ ancient terror, the real danger these predators present. Not only that, popular culture tends to side with the wolves over the granddaughter and grandmother.
Since I tend to open the door to anyone, I take this warning seriously. Sometimes people we come across are just as dangerous as the wild wolf in the desolate forest. Sometimes there is no hunter to save us. Sometimes there is— the hunter swallowed, cutting his way out from inside,like Jesus cut the dragon that is death.
I’m Katie Andraski and that’s my perspective.
