I found Big Bad when he was a puppy. There, lying on the woods half-dead, I assumed he’d been the runt of his litter and the rest of his family had run off to live healthy lives. I took pity on him, the poor thing. My cottage was nestled in a clearing where I could raise him quietly. So I tucked him in my basket and kept him warm all the way home.
A small corner of the house was set aside for him, right next to the hearth where he could survive. I fed him warm milk and small bits of meat when he got bigger. And boy, did that dog have personality! He preferred the blue blankets over the red ones. He started a collection of sticks next to the door that were all exactly the same size, no bigger and no smaller. As his life went on, I found so many sticks inside my house, just lying around. They were all the same size, peppering the floor and lying in his bed of blankets by the hearth. And as soon as Big Bad was big enough to jump on the bed, I never had it to myself again.
I trained him well. He was an obedient dog with manners. He was such a gentleman! He always walked beside me when we went through the woods, trotting happily. And he loved belly rubs. Big Bad was such a sweetheart. Although, I remember one day in particular where my young niece was visiting, and he growled and barked at her to no end. He stood in front of me with his puppy body as if he was my protector. During her stay, he pulled her red cloak off the hook and gnawed on it until there was a large, uneven hole. “Oh, you big dog! Go outside!” I patted him on the head and sent him to his stick pile. In the evening, I sat down and mended the red cloak so that it was fixed for her departure.
Once my niece left, Big Bad returned to his playful, energetic state. I just assumed that he was protective of me. I had saved him, after all.
However, my suspicions grew over the following weeks. I had to remove the color red from my house! He would chew or snap at anything with such a vivid color. I tested his patience with orange things, yellow things, pink things—but he just hated the color red!
I decided to take him into town once. I found a lengthy rope and tied it around his neck, and then recurred it to my leather belt. Big Bad was happy to go on the adventure through the woods, and when we reached the town, his big black eyes looked excitedly around all the homes and cottages. He smiled at people and begged for food, which the townsfolk happily obliged. The silly thing must’ve gained ten pounds that day!
From then on, I trusted Big Bad around anyone but my niece and her red cloak. During her visits, I would have to leave him outside with his stick collection, which grew bigger each day. Big Bad was a big dog, see, so I didn’t want my little niece to get hurt.
Except she did.
Over the years, I got older and Big Bad lived up to his name. He was a big dog. But I trusted him to protect me. It was a nice fall day, and I was outside chopping wood. It was a slow process because of my aging bones, but it needed to be done. Big Bad was inside, and through the window I could see him jump on my bed. The poor thing must’ve been cold, because he burrowed under my covers and curled up. With a smile, I turned back to my wood. He was so cute!
During my work, I didn’t notice that my front door had been opened. I was behind my house, so I didn’t notice my niece walking inside. She visited frequently, so I wasn’t surprised that she let herself in. But as soon as I noticed her through the window, I saw the white gleam of the blade in her hand. I dropped my axe and gasped. Her attention was turned towards the bed, where Big Bad’s lump was lying. Oh, she looked so sinister with her red cloak!
To this day, I have wondered if she assumed it was me in the bed or if she knew that it was Big Bad. From where I was standing, he was completely submerged within the blankets. And I had left my bonnet on the pillow. So maybe it did look like me. But I don’t like thinking about that.
My niece lunged for the figure in the bed, tearing back the blankets. Big Bad sprung from the blanket and toppled onto her. They fell to the ground and I could no longer see from the window. A scream escaped my throat and I ran around the house to the front door. I could hear my niece’s gargled, fading screams and the loud whimpers that Big Bad was making. The floor by my bed was covered in blood. It was a horrible sight.
Her dagger had run through Big Bad’s body, and his jowls had gripped onto her torso where her organs were. They were both so viscous to each other. I collapsed on my knees in front of them and cried. It was a horrible nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. The autumn wind howled and poured in through the open door. Leaves flew inside, but I didn’t care. The cottage would never be clean again.
I don’t know how long I sat there looking at them. I just don’t know. Time didn’t exist. It all felt so empty, so dreadful.
Until I noticed the dagger. It was lying next to Big Bad’s body. I picked it up gently. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of Big Bad’s sticks lying under the bed. I picked it up and held it in my free hand. They were the same size.
My eyes drifted up to the rest of the room, where Big Bad’s sticks were lying everywhere. I compared each one to the dagger. They were the same size. Each measurement was impeccable. With tears streaming down my face, I stumbled outside and tossed down the dagger in his pile. It couldn’t have been a mistake. Each stick was the exact length as the dagger.
I left the cottage and never returned. My life was spent alone, consumed by grief. For years I pondered every detail—Big Bad’s hatred for the color red, how he was so protective of me when she was around, the mysterious stick pile. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sensed a sort of evil inside of her and wanted to protect me. It all seemed so connected, as if these things couldn’t be coincidence. But I just didn’t know. And I never would.