[ WP ] Rewrite a fairytale/myth/legend to include Lovecraftian elements .

Many think of curiosity as a magnificent virtue, a sign of an ingenious mind, a tool to cut through the thick veil of ignorance and peer into the unknown. Yet I always believed it to be the greatest folly of mankind, a symptom of such unparalleled arrogance and out-right foolish fearlessness, that the fact of our prolonged survival seemed almost illogical. No tale expresses it better than the story of a little girl who lived near the woods. 
 
 The name of this young child had long been lost and many details about her adventure were changed or removed from the original text. However, quite bizarrely one of the most insignificant details always stayed the same: the colour of her clothing. Red. Be it a red hood, a red dress, a red cape, cloak, hat or any other of the various accessories and articles of clothing that a young girl might wear on a windy and somewhat chilly day, the idea stayed the same. But I digress; let's begin the story of a girl most commonly known as Little Red Riding Hood. 
 
 Little Red Riding Hood lived with her mother on the edge of a quiet village, far away from the cacophonous noise of big cities. The girl was quite fond of her elderly grandmother, whose house for a reason unfortunately unknown stood in the middle of a dense dark forest. However, a single road wove though the gigantic thicket, granting adventurers and locals alike safety from whatever horrors lay dormant between the withering trees. Little Red Riding Hood's mother had always warned her of the numerous dangers outside the path; yet this taboo, just like many others throughout our history was doomed to fall under the overwhelming advance of curiosity. 
 
 On a frankly mundane and generally usual day, the young girl set out to her grandmother's house with a small basket full of food. Although the journey was not unfamiliar to her and she had always completed it without so much as looking away from the path, but that day Little Red Riding Hood felt something calling to her from the darkness between the moss-covered trunks. It spoke with a voice which was not a voice, in a language no one understood, but everyone obeyed, of things each human mind craved and could not comprehend. Some modern variants describe this creature as a wolf, but I assure you, it was no simple canine. Its form was a demented formless mess of claws, flesh, teeth and bone. 
 
 Enthralled by the mysterious sound and overwhelmed by the completely human and simultaneously flawed desire for the unknown, Little Red Riding Hood stepped off the path and plunged into the void. In a matter of moments, the voice jumped from a whisper to an ear-shattering crescendo, as the horrifying creature darted close enough for the girl to feel its putrid breath on her face. Terrible vistas of mangled corpses, monstrous abominations, and things which no human tongue could ever describe filled the young child's mind, carrying her closer and closer to madness. And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the creature was gone. 
 
 Little Red Riding Hood did not know how long she lay there, the aftermath of the horrific encounter rocking her entire body and mind. Tears streamed down her face, as she clutched the sides of her head tightly, trying to push out the nightmarish visions. After seconds, minutes, or possibly hours of ceaseless sobbing, the girl stood up shakily and stumbled in the direction of her grandmother's house, hoping beyond all that one day she would be able to forget the things that creature made her see. 
 
 Yet the road was not how it used to be, Little Red Riding Hood could no longer ignore the shadows lurking within the twilight of the forest. Her mind, exposed to the other side, could not cast away the hideous forms of things that were perhaps never meant to be, but somehow still crawled their way into existence. Waiting, lurking, screeching, they huddled near the path like vultures ready to strike at their weakened prey. 
 
 Barely moving, stumbling each step of the way, Little Red Riding Hood had finally arrived to the house of her beloved grandmother, the horrors of the forest still reverberating through her. Yet behind that door stood a creature familiar, but so unimaginable that the young girl ’ s mind refused to recognize it. Falling to her knees, she tried beyond reason to see nothing out of the ordinary, to trick herself even for a moment, to drive out the image of that thing and replace it with her elderly grandmother. 
 
 The illusion did not last long. Gentle blue eyes grew into two large murky orbs filled with what looked like fog. Stuttering and sobbing, Little Red Riding Hood asked through the tears: 
 
 “ Grandma, why do you have such large eyes? ” 
 
 Accompanied by the unforgettable putrid smell, the response echoed with a jumble of illegible sounds, alien to any language of this world. Still, between those sounds was a thought, a thought powerful enough to drill its way directly into the girl ’ s mind. 
 
 *SEE YOU. * 
 
 Trying to look away, Little Red Riding Hood lowered her eyes only to have another part of her attempt at sanity grabbed away. The old gentle wrinkly arms began twisting into long branch-like limbs, covered in spikes and protruding bones. Quietly, hoping to not hear an answer, she spoke once more: 
 
 “ Grandma, why do you have such big arms? ” 
 
 Even stronger than before, the sound and the thought roared back in an agonizing cacophony. 
 
 *GRAB YOU. * 
 
 Exhausted by the devastating experience, with barely enough strength to kneel, 
 Little Red Riding Hood lifted her eyes up to where her grandmother ’ s smile was replaced with a mass of teeth, which looked more like a torture device than a mouth. Doubting if any sound would even come out, the little girl opened her mouth to speak one more time: 
 
 “ Grandma, why do you have such a big mouth? ” 
 
 Shattering any remains of the child ’ s self-imposed illusion, the horror presented itself in its full glory, which could never be fully described or even imagined by a person of sane mind, and shook the air with one last thought. 
 
 *CONSUME YOU. * 
 
 It is not known what happened next. Some say Little Red Riding Hood perished there; others tell stories of how she returned to the village, her mind shaken and her hair greyed; there are even fools who tell tales of a woodsman who saved the child from the monster. However, one thing always remained as unchanged as the colour of the girl ’ s clothing: the lesson to any who decides to step into the unknown. 
 
 This is why each time I hear of attempts to push into the emptiness between the stars or the depths of the ocean, a special coldness grips my heart. We continue reaching deeper and deeper into the darkness, blinded by our vanity and false sense of superiority. The forest is all around, the path is long lost, and it ’ s only a matter of time until we meet our “ wolf ”.
