To Pick a Blossom by Gareth Ransome

I remember back, before once upon a time, a time before stories:

There was a young girl, as beautiful as the moon as a cloudless night. So beautiful that the sun looked forward to seeing her every morning and the stars every evening. Her name was Blossom and she lived with her father who doted on her every whim and loved her like she was the only woman in his life for he had no wife -she had died in childbirth.

Together they lived on the outskirts of a small village by the edge of a deep, dark forest. There were parts of the forest where it was as black as night and where the trees were so close together you would suffocate. There was a path that led right through the forest, but if you strayed from it you would not be seen again.

Now in the middle of the forest, in a small clearing, there lived Blossoms grandmother who also doted on her grandchild -though she was no longer such a child- so much so that she knitted Blossom a beautiful cloak with a hood that was as white as winter, so when the snows came Blossom could play hiding games with the boys and she could not be found unless she wanted to be found.

Blossom visited her whenever she could, but her grandmother was becoming very old and ill, and sometimes it would be days before Blossom would see her.

On this particular day, a whole week had gone by and Blossom had missed her so. Her father finally agreed to let Blossom go and visit, for it was cold as ice out there - colder - and the snow was thick on the ground, and the father loved Blossom so much he did not want to see her chilled.

But he eventually gave in, not wanting to deny her anything, and he gave her some honey and jam to take to her grandmother.

"Stay on the path, don't stop for anyone and don't talk to anyone either." He said.

Off Blossom went in her white cape, hood over her head, not feeling the cold, trudging through the snow, and it wasn't long before she forgot the wise words of her father.

Even though the forest floor was a carpet of white, there were still flowers pushing their heads through the snow, trying desperately to reach the sun. Blossom thought that they looked so pretty that she knelt down to pick them.

As she did so she caught the eyes of a wolf who had followed her since she had left the hut. He had wanted to eat her up as soon as he caught sight of her, but knew that her screams would have alerted the village. Besides, he knew that there were other appetites that were to be sated first, and she was so beautiful - some things had to be savoured.

"Good morning to you, dear, dear Blossom. How are you today, on this fine, but cold morn?"

Now Blossom feared nothing and no one, knew not of the wolfs lechery or hidden desires -had she done, she would surely run home as fast as she could. No, she had forgotten the sage words that her father had told her, and replied:

"Do I know you, Mr Wolf? For you certainly seem to know me, and my memory ‘members you not!"

"We have never been formally introduced, but I have often watched you from afar, admiring your beauty. Pray tell me, dear Blossom, what are you doing so far from your village on this cold day. Your father will be missing you. He pines after you so." And with that he smiled his lecherous smile baring his yellow teeth and fetid breath.

"I am on my way to visit my poor grandmother, who is very ill. I have not seen her for so long that I fear I have forgotten what she looks like." Blossom said, still unafraid.

"Yes, yes. Poor dear. I have heard that she is ill. I should visit her too and pay her my respects too." The wolf replied.

"And how, pray tell, do you know of my grandmother and her illness?" Blossom asked, tentatively.

"I know of your grandmother and have known of her since before you were born, dear Blossom." The wolf confidently stated, and then, almost thoughtfully, added,

"Why do we not visit her together? I know of a shortcut through the forest that will take us there in half the time."

Blossom was quite shocked by this and remembered what her father had said and said,

"No! Do you not know that it is dangerous to stray from the path?"

"I have not heard such rubbish in all of my life, and I am nearly twice your age!" He boasted. "I have always wandered through the forest as I see fit, and have never come to any harm. Though if you insist on entertaining such a belief I propose a wager to show you the error of your ways."

"A wager?" Blossom was intrigued by this and her eyes sparkled with delight at such a proposition.

"Yes, I wager whatever is in that basket that I will get to your grandmothers house before you."

"And if I am first and beat you, what do I win?" Blossom asked?

"Your hearts desire, no less." Replied the wolf.

"Very well. I accept." Said Blossom. And with that the wolf ran away with a shout of glee, into the woods as fast as his four legs could take him -he knew that the race was easily run.

Of course the wolf reached the grandmother first, as he knew he would. But when he knocked on her door he wore two feet not four. He knocked three times -Knock knock knock.

"Who is it?" Asked the grandmother, all frail voice and tainted by infirmity.

"It is I," said the wolf in a near perfect mimicry of Blossoms voice, "Your granddaughter, come to bring you honey and jam."

"Lift up the latch and come walk in." The grandmother said, and the wolf walked in, still standing upright.

"Oh, it's you." Remarked the grandmother. "I thought it was Blossom. Step closer, child, so I can see you." And the wolf did so, suppressing his hungry grin. "Come, child, and give me a kiss." To which the wolf said,

"Gladly!" And leapt upon the grandmother, devouring her in one -apart from the shock of her hair for his kind can not stomach hair.

Blossom was still on the path. She knew that she could not hope to beat the wolf, yet she ran on still -occasionally stopping to pick some flowers that were sheltered from the snow.

Less than a mile from her grandmothers cottage she came across a huntsman.

"Have you seen a wolf on your travels, miss?" The huntsman asked. "He's a particularly wily and cunning one, dangerous too. He's been seen around these parts for years, but no one has ever been able to catch him. Have you seen him, miss?"

"No, I haven't." Lied Blossom for she did not believe that such a creature could be dangerous and did not want the wolf to die because of her. She bade the huntsman goodbye and ran on to the cottage.

The huntsman though it strange that such a girl would be so far from the village on such a cold day, and running in such a way, that he decided to follow her. He always kept her within earshot, though he was always out of her sight.

Blossom finally made it to her grandmothers cottage and knocked three times on the door. Knock knock knock.

"Who is it?" Asked the wolf, now mimicking the grandmothers voice, wearing her shawl and bonnet and tucked up snuggly in bed, waiting, waiting.

"It is I, your granddaughter with some honey and jam." Blossom said, innocent of what had happened.

"Lift up the latch and walk right in." Said the wolf. So great was the mimicry of the wolf that Blossom had not the faintest idea that her grandmother was no more.

It was so dark in the cottage, the only light coming from the slow crackle of the dying fire. Blossom walked in, not sensing there was anything wrong.

"Put the basked on the chair and walk over to the fire so I can see you, my dear." Said the wolf, his stomach growling in anticipation.

Blossom did as she was told and placed the basket on the chair, and walked over to the fire, and started warming her hands.

"What will you have me do now, gran?"

"Undress and get into bed with me, my dear." Said the wolf, careful to hide his desires.

"What shall I do with my dress?" Asked Blossom.

"Throw it into the fire, we shan't be needing it anymore." And Blossom did so. For each garment -petticoat, bodice and stockings- she asked the same question, and always the wolf gave the same answer.

"Throw it in the fire, we shan't be needing it anymore."

‘Till at last she was only dressed in her white cloak which caught the light of the fire and sparkled.

"Shall I throw this into the fire also?" She asked.

"No." Said the wolf, rubbing his hands under the bedclothes. "Keep it on and come to bed, my child."

And Blossom did as she was told for she loved her grandmother so much and knew not what was about to happen. The first thing she noticed:

"Gran! How hairy and big your arms are!"

"All the better to hold you with my dear." Replied the wolf. And as Blossom caught the glint in the wolfs eye -the second thing she noticed:

"Gran! How big and green your eyes are!"

"All the better to gaze at your beauty, my dear." And the wolf grinned his lecherous grin, and licked his lips, showing off his yellow teeth and fetid breath. And almost in a gasp, the third thing Blossom noticed:

"Lord! How large your mouth is!"

"All the better to kiss you with!" And he launched himself on her, ripping her cloak open. Blossom screamed for the first time in her life.

The huntsman heard this scream and burst through the door, and threw the wolf to the wall far away from Blossom. But the damage had been done.

Blossom ran out of the cottage into the snow and tried to wash herself clean. Her cloak of purest white was no longer. It was now stained with red, and soon the snow around where she lay was as crimson as her hood. The huntsman found her in the snow and handed her his coat, though he could no longer look her in the eye.

"He escaped. When I cut this off of him, it was a paw. The paw of a wolf. You were there. He was a wolf and I cut this off of him. Tell me why, then. Tell me because I swear I do not understand why I am holding this!" And he threw a hand into Blossoms lap, a human hand, a bloody stump where it had once been attatched to an arm -further it was a hand that she recognised.

Scared for her sanity she threw off the huntsman and ran as if the very devil was on her tail. She had to know, she could not believe what her eyes were telling her, what she was holding in her hand. The huntsman did not know the path as well as she, but he followed the bloody trail that the wolf left behind him.

Blossom rushed home as quickly as she could, almost hysterical with fear for herself and for her father. When she got to the hut where the both lived, she saw the window to the door smashed and the door was off the latch. She bolted through the door screaming for her father, not noticing the trail of blood that led through the door from the forest beyond.

She ran into her fathers room and screamed at the sight that met her terrified eyes. The room had been turned upside down. The bed smashed, all the drawers had been ripped out and the clothes ripped into shreds on the floor. There were streams and splashes of blood everywhere. And there in the corner, lying like a broken heap on the floor was her father clutching the bloody stump of his arm, where his hand used to be.