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Red Cloak
Your chortling baby face brightened
As you eyed the cloak
Which was in more family photos than you.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
Years.
Slid by as I waited for you to return it.
But my cloak became your namesake.
What was I to do? I needed it back.
Lipstick, matching my cloak,
Painted his cheeks and chest.
The next morning I knew
Wolf was mine to command.
Coughing into the mouthpiece,
I croaked a plea for some muffins
As Wolf left for the forest.
It was simple.
Get the cloak, bring it back.
It was so simple.
But how was I to know,
That Wolf would get hungry?
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We are so used to hearing fairytales and fables in a certain way. What if the motive was different? Or the villian?