Little Dead Riding Hood

My shoes grind the gravel path as I creep through the cemetery. Bending down to pick up my frisbee that accidentally flew over the cemetery wall, I hear gasps. Forget the frisbee. The dead is awake!

Run! Run! Run!

A green hand grabs the back of my blue tee shirt. "Go away!" I cry. "Don't eat my brains!"

I turn to the undead to see the decomposing face of the girl I heard of in fairy tales, the red hood shadowing her empty eye sockets.

"Red? Riding Hood?" I manage to squeak.

Moldy tears slip from the shadows of her eyes. "Not anymore. I'm dead, right?'

"I think so."

She wimpers some more, and I pull her toward me in a caring hold.

The End

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