Be warned... this is a dark and twisted version of the popular tale... 

Lost in the Woods

The door creaked open, showing the dark void beyond and Goldilocks swallowed. "Hello?" she tried again. The smell of pancakes wafted through the crack in the door and her stomach growled loudly. When was the last time she had eaten? She couldn't remember. She pushed the door open further with trembling hands. "Is there anyone home?" she called. All she needed was help. Some directions and perhaps some water. A little bit of food. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The lights were off, only the light of the moon illuminating the strange house through small windows. She inched along the corridor, flinching every time the wooden floorboards creaked beneath her weary feet. She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that somewhere there was food, and her stomach was pulling her towards it.

The bed was just like the biggest chair downstairs. The pillows enveloped her and she felt like she was being eaten by a gigantic marshmallow. She fought her way out and tumbled out onto the floor. Part of her already knew that when she climbed up onto the second bed, it would not be comfortable. It was not. Her head barely touched the thin pillow before she sat up and climbed back down.

By the time she climbed up onto the third bed, she was exhausted. It reminded her of her bed at home and sleep swept over her almost instantly.

It was a dark and scary evening in the woods. Goldilocks shivered as she peered amongst the trees, shuddering and shaking at every little sound she heard. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled and a whimper escaped her throat. She was lost. And alone. And afraid. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued forward, regretting ever having chased that kitten into the forest. It had been reckless and now she was paying the price.

Just as she was starting to lose hope, she stumbled across a break in the trees. Branches reached out, grabbing at her like witches fingers, but she continued, desperately trying to escape their clutches. In the clearing, was a small rickety house. No lights were on and the outside was painted in flaking green paint as though trying to camouflage with the surrounding forest.

Cautiously, she inched her way toward the door. 

"Hello?" Goldilocks called out, her voice too loud in the quiet forest. No one replied. Holding her breath, she reached out and knocked on the door, the rough wood scraping her knuckles.

Goldilocks awoke to a roar. Sitting up in bed, blinking in the morning light, she looked around, her heart pounding. Where was she? She stared at the unfamiliar room, at the teddy in her arms that didn't belong to her, and everything came rushing back. Being lost in the woods. Finding the strange house.

Rubbing her eyes, she scrambled out of the bed just as another roar echoed through the house. She hadn't imagined it. Maybe whoever lived here had a pet? Maybe a strange type of dog? She had no time to make up her mind when thumping footsteps sounded on the stairs. Whoever, or whatever, it was, was coming. Now. For a second, she considered hiding under the bed. But what good would that do? She'd stayed to face up to her actions. There was no point running now. But as three enormous fur-covered figures appeared in the doorway, she realized she'd made a monumental mistake.

But then, a soft pop echoed through the empty room, and then beans started spilling out all over the floor. Goldilocks leapt to her feet, her eyes wide and her hands at her mouth as she watched the small, blue, fluffy chair deflate and collapse. What had she done?

Maybe there would be a way to fix the chair. Her heart pounding in her throat, she opened drawers and searched for something, anything, perhaps a needle and thread to fix it with. But there was nothing. Desperate, she stumbled up the steep stairs. Maybe there would be a sewing kit in one of the bedrooms. There was only one bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway and stared, confused. There was a large bed, covered with so many cushions, it was like a mountain. Beside it, was a smaller bed, neatly made with a thin pink blanket. The third bed was small, with a patchwork comforter and a small teddy sitting on the pillow.

As she stared at the beds, a yawn stretched her mouth. When was the last time she'd slept? Goldilocks knew she could leave. Whoever lived here would never know who had eaten their food and broken their chair. But she wasn't that kind of person. Her parents had raised her to take responsibilities for her actions. And besides, she still needed help. So, she decided to wait. Whoever lived here deserved an apology. Before she could decide if it was a good idea, she climbed up onto the biggest bed. She would just rest until they came home, and then she would rush downstairs and reveal herself.

Staggering back from the table, her face sticky with syrup, she stared at the empty plate with wide blue eyes. Would whoever the person the pancakes belonged to be angry? She could make some more perhaps? If they could only help her get home, she could ask her parents to give her some money to pay them back. Her legs trembled. With her belly now full, exhaustion shook her to her core. She needed to rest. Trudging back through the house, she wandered into the living room..

Three chairs stood in the middle of the dark room. One was huge and overstuffed, the second made of carved wood , and the third more like a fluffy bean bag. Curious, Goldilocks climbed into the first chair. It was so soft, it felt like it was swallowing her whole. She wriggled and tried to get comfortable, but it wasn't possible. Disappointed, she climbed down and tried the second chair. It was not comfortable at all. The wood was beautiful, carved in spiraling roses and vines, but the threadbare cushion on the seat was not for relaxing. Frustration pulled a groan from her throat as she slipped down and sank onto the final chair. The fluffy blue beanbag chair was perfect. It was soft, but not too soft, and she immediately felt relieved.

The kitchen was more homely than she'd expected, with pots and pans on the counter and the table set for three. Who lived here? She stepped up to the large wooden table and peered at the stacks of pancakes laid out on well worn blue porcelain plates. The first stack smelled delicious and she cautiously reached out and pulled off a piece of the fluffy pancake on top. Placing it on her tongue, she winced as she realized it was spicy. Who on earth ate spicy pancakes? Shaking her head, she assessed the second plate. Pulling off another small morsel, she tentatively tasted it. Immediately, she spat it out. It was blueberry. She hated blueberries.

Finally, she turned to the final plate. When she placed the small crumb on her tongue her eyes widened and her stomach growled in appreciation. It was plain but covered in syrup. Before she knew what she was doing, she tore off another piece and shoved it into her mouth. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. It was only when her sticky fingers brushed against the empty plate, she realized what she'd done. She'd eaten it all.

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