Red Riding Hood

Old John was the only hunter in this small town who made a living by hunting. He was a tall, lean man in his late fifties, with a weather - beaten face marked by years of exposure to the elements. His eyes, sharp and piercing, seemed to miss nothing, and his thick, graying beard added to his rugged appearance. Every day, he would set out early in the morning, his trusty rifle slung over his shoulder, and return late in the evening with his game. Thanks to his superb shooting skills and hunting instincts, he always had a bountiful harvest. But he didn't choose to enjoy it alone; instead, he would share it with the other residents of the town.

One sunny afternoon, he encountered Granny Jenny in the town square. Granny Jenny was a small, frail woman in her seventies, with a kind, wrinkled face and a head of silver - white hair. She always wore a simple, old - fashioned dress and a pair of sturdy, black shoes. "Hey, good afternoon Granny Jenny. Here's a wild chicken I got yesterday. Would you like it?" "John, you're so kind. My granddaughter Little Red Riding Hood is coming to visit me today. If you're free, you can come by my place tonight and pick up a jar of strawberry jam. I think you'll like it." "Okay, thank you for your kindness," Old John replied as he returned home to prepare his lunch.

"Oh no, why is the blueberry jam finished?" "I'll just go to Granny Jenny's place and get a jar of strawberry jam this evening," he thought.

In the evening, Old John arrived at Granny Jenny's doorstep. His keen sense of smell, honed from years of hunting, made him detect something amiss. "Why do I smell a faint scent of blood in the air?" he wondered. "And what are these scattered gray animal hairs doing here?" Quickly, he returned home to fetch his rifle and a dagger. He noticed that his hands, rough and calloused from handling his weapons and doing hard physical labor, trembled slightly with a mix of anger and concern.

He knocked on Granny Jenny's door but found it unlocked. He gently pushed it open and looked around cautiously. There were more scattered gray hairs inside the house, and he could hear the sound of snoring. As he walked into the main bedroom, he saw a big gray wolf lying in bed, with a bright red hood lying on the floor. "This must be the hood Little Red Riding Hood was wearing," he thought. The wolf was a large, menacing creature, with a thick, shaggy coat and sharp, yellow fangs. Without hesitation, Old John, his face set in a determined expression, stabbed the sleeping wolf to death with his dagger.

Looking at the wolf's swollen belly, he wondered if Granny Jenny and Red Riding Hood were still alive. So, he cut open the wolf's belly and found them huddled together inside. Granny Jenny looked pale and scared, with her hair disheveled, while Red Riding Hood, a young girl of about seven or eight, had big, tear - filled eyes and a frightened look on her face. "It's Grandpa John! Grandma, Grandpa John saved us!" Red Riding Hood exclaimed as she opened her eyes and saw Old John. Old John used his strength to safeguard the harmonious daily life of this small town.