A long time ago, only yesterday, a very wealthy nobleman and his wife lived in a beautiful palace not far from the woods.
One morning a very terrible thing happened. The nobleman was watching television when suddenly an important update was reported. A werewolf had escaped from a sanctuary and had been seen in the woods. Two victims had been killed.
The nobleman ran straight to his wife’s room but she wasn’t there. The nobleman looked all over the palace but she was nowhere to be seen. The nobleman let out a huge yelp and asked for his hunter. The hunter ran right to him.
“What do you want?” said the hunter.
“ I believe my wife was has been kidnapped. I was just watching television when I heard that a werewolf had escaped in the woods and two people have been killed. If my wife is in the woods she will be killed as well. I want you to take this sword to the woods and kill the werewolf”
The hunter ran down to the woods and hid behind a tree. After waiting there for almost two hours he saw the werewolf. The hunter jumped out from behind the tree and cut the werewolves paw off. However, the werewolf was not killed but injured. The werewolf ran from the hunter. The hunter put the bloody paw in the pocket of his shirt and then went back to the palace. The hunter then showed the nobleman the paw. The nobleman believed that he had killed the werewolf but still could not find his wife.
The nobleman walked down to the kitchen to get a bite to eat. To his surprise his wife was making soup with only one hand. The other hand was in the pocket of her apron. The nobleman asked the his wife
“Why are you cooking with one hand?”
His wife replied
“I am using one hand because I am the werewolf your hunter chased in the woods.”
DONG, DONG the clock struck twelve.
The nobleman’s wife started to grow fur.
“What thick hair you have” said the nobleman.
Then suddenly the nobleman’s wife grew big brown eyes and the she started to grow long pointy nails that were as sharp as a knife.
“What long nails you have” said the nobleman.
“The better to stab you with” said the nobleman’s wife and she pounced on him. Blood went everywhere.
Now the nobleman is dead and we all know that all along the werewolf was the nobleman’s wife and that this werewolf ain’t coming back.
At least we hope she is not coming back.
Brittany Grade 5/6Q
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Another Story Starter Hint: Journal Keeping
This was based on a real life trip I took and was actually a very small entry in one of my journals. I've used this particular entry to write at least 3 stories here at the Cafe...just a little FYI on the use of Journal Writing.
Anita Marie
I use to ride dirt bikes and on one of my weekend warrior trips I came across an abandoned mining town. All I found were the foundations of about 3 buildings some glass medicine bottles ( which I still have ) and now scars all over my right shoulder.
Anyway, I was riding around the foundations and cut across a little field when all of the sudden I heard some ripping and popping sounds. I'd never heard sounds like that in my life and decided to open her up and get out of there fast. I'm ashamed to say I panicked and I nearly ditched my bike. I had good reason to be scared though; that sound seemed to be following me.
When I made it to the road I looked back and saw a HUGE hole in the ground. I had ridden right across these wooden platforms or 'caps' over an old mine shaft entrance and the tearing and popping was the sound of the wood breaking apart and collapsing.
There was so much dust and dirt that kicked up that it almost looked like a fire. And, it took a long time before I heard what I thought was the timber hitting the bottom of the shaft. On the other hand, I can't swear to that. I was way to scared and wasn't to sharp at that point.
Being that I was 23 at the time, it didn't occur to me I almost DIED. So after I calmed down I rode around and looked for more building foundations and found some. I also found things like railroad spikes, those little cars they hauled stuff out of the mines in and I spent a lot of time trying to find those helmets miners wore or lanterns but no luck.
I did find signs that trains use to come up here. I found tracks and what looked like and entrance to a tunnel that you couldn't get into because it looked like the entrance had collapsed. I guess the hill just slid right down the hill one day and buried it. In fact, you could see a lot of evidence of some serious landslides all over the place.
Do you know what happens to old railroads tracks? Nothing...and if you're not careful you're liable to ride across some half buried ones like I did and wind up face down in God knows what spewing every cuss word you've ever learned in your entire life.
I spent about a half hour alone up there when it occurred to me no one knew where I was. All of my friends and myself were on the way back to camp and I had stopped to be er, answer the call of nature if you get my drift.
I'd never had claustrophobia in my life, but all of the sudden that's what it felt like. It felt like I was in a little box or something and I couldn't get away from that place fast enough.
And there's this odd twist of memory...
The entire time I was up there I never heard a sound except for the caps collapsing. I never heard a bird, I never heard the wind and I didn't even hear the river until I got away from that little abandoned town
Would I go back? No way, never.
Some things should stay buried, and I think that little town is one of them.
Anita Marie
I use to ride dirt bikes and on one of my weekend warrior trips I came across an abandoned mining town. All I found were the foundations of about 3 buildings some glass medicine bottles ( which I still have ) and now scars all over my right shoulder.
Anyway, I was riding around the foundations and cut across a little field when all of the sudden I heard some ripping and popping sounds. I'd never heard sounds like that in my life and decided to open her up and get out of there fast. I'm ashamed to say I panicked and I nearly ditched my bike. I had good reason to be scared though; that sound seemed to be following me.
When I made it to the road I looked back and saw a HUGE hole in the ground. I had ridden right across these wooden platforms or 'caps' over an old mine shaft entrance and the tearing and popping was the sound of the wood breaking apart and collapsing.
There was so much dust and dirt that kicked up that it almost looked like a fire. And, it took a long time before I heard what I thought was the timber hitting the bottom of the shaft. On the other hand, I can't swear to that. I was way to scared and wasn't to sharp at that point.
Being that I was 23 at the time, it didn't occur to me I almost DIED. So after I calmed down I rode around and looked for more building foundations and found some. I also found things like railroad spikes, those little cars they hauled stuff out of the mines in and I spent a lot of time trying to find those helmets miners wore or lanterns but no luck.
I did find signs that trains use to come up here. I found tracks and what looked like and entrance to a tunnel that you couldn't get into because it looked like the entrance had collapsed. I guess the hill just slid right down the hill one day and buried it. In fact, you could see a lot of evidence of some serious landslides all over the place.
Do you know what happens to old railroads tracks? Nothing...and if you're not careful you're liable to ride across some half buried ones like I did and wind up face down in God knows what spewing every cuss word you've ever learned in your entire life.
I spent about a half hour alone up there when it occurred to me no one knew where I was. All of my friends and myself were on the way back to camp and I had stopped to be er, answer the call of nature if you get my drift.
I'd never had claustrophobia in my life, but all of the sudden that's what it felt like. It felt like I was in a little box or something and I couldn't get away from that place fast enough.
And there's this odd twist of memory...
The entire time I was up there I never heard a sound except for the caps collapsing. I never heard a bird, I never heard the wind and I didn't even hear the river until I got away from that little abandoned town
Would I go back? No way, never.
Some things should stay buried, and I think that little town is one of them.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
The Chamber of Horrors and the Ghost Hunters
NO!
I will not allow ghost hunters into this building. That's out of the question. Have you people finally lost your hold on sanity?
Do you think for a minute that the ghosts would be the hunted in this situation? I don't know who these people are you've invited but get rid of them...all of them!
What do you mean, it's too late. Go down there and tell them...oh this is just wonderful.
Is running around kicking your mortality in the backside what you do to amuse yourselves? What do you do when you really want to have a good time... play a little Russian Roulette?
Fine, bring them up to the Library and do it quickly, things have been a little to noisy in the Isolation Ward lately. Well...you'll find out the hard way if you don't do what I say at once!
So you are the ... how quaint the Gaslight Society Ghost Hunters. Yes, charmed I'm sure. My name is Miss Bayloche.
To make a very long story short these eight students are all that remains of 25. The others left a week ago after running into the Night Staffers.These remaining eight are suppose to be here to study writing, music and art. They've done none of that. But they've paid room and board till the end of next month so they're here for at least that long.
Their instructors leave them to their own now because all they want to do is talk ghosts and demons and about the living dead.
That's it in a nutshell.
Oh the story...you mean of the School itself.
Well, it was founded by two serial killers one of which was a demon and the other a creation of the demon itself, the Asylum was run by a psychotic and it's Night Staff were residents of a little place called Leaning Birch...which I'm sure you've been informed is the town's cemetery.
Every evening at Midnight a Shift occurs between the world of the living and the world of the dead and the School, or parts of it return to it's former self. Our problem is that now after each shift has occurred parts of the old school are finding their way into the new school and staying.
Furnishings, cups of tea on desks, a room here and there...and things in the Morgue.
Yesterday the kitchen was in full use, food was being prepared, the tables were set...the days paper was even propped up against a bowl of steaming oatmeal.
Well, we don't use that as a kitchen, it was closed off over 100 years ago and the paper for your information was dated 1905.
Things you see from the past are shifting into the present and I don't know why, it's never happened before. It's your standard Chamber of Horrors fare. Boring to individuals of your expertise. So, I guess you'll be...
Staying.
Why of course you are.
This place is one of a kind? You don't say. The racket? It's the door leading to the Isolation Ward. From the sounds of it, it's just been torn off of it's hinges.
Welcome members of the Gaslight Society to the Chamber of Horrors.
© anita marie moscoso 2005-text
I will not allow ghost hunters into this building. That's out of the question. Have you people finally lost your hold on sanity?
Do you think for a minute that the ghosts would be the hunted in this situation? I don't know who these people are you've invited but get rid of them...all of them!
What do you mean, it's too late. Go down there and tell them...oh this is just wonderful.
Is running around kicking your mortality in the backside what you do to amuse yourselves? What do you do when you really want to have a good time... play a little Russian Roulette?
Fine, bring them up to the Library and do it quickly, things have been a little to noisy in the Isolation Ward lately. Well...you'll find out the hard way if you don't do what I say at once!
So you are the ... how quaint the Gaslight Society Ghost Hunters. Yes, charmed I'm sure. My name is Miss Bayloche.
To make a very long story short these eight students are all that remains of 25. The others left a week ago after running into the Night Staffers.These remaining eight are suppose to be here to study writing, music and art. They've done none of that. But they've paid room and board till the end of next month so they're here for at least that long.
Their instructors leave them to their own now because all they want to do is talk ghosts and demons and about the living dead.
That's it in a nutshell.
Oh the story...you mean of the School itself.
Well, it was founded by two serial killers one of which was a demon and the other a creation of the demon itself, the Asylum was run by a psychotic and it's Night Staff were residents of a little place called Leaning Birch...which I'm sure you've been informed is the town's cemetery.
Every evening at Midnight a Shift occurs between the world of the living and the world of the dead and the School, or parts of it return to it's former self. Our problem is that now after each shift has occurred parts of the old school are finding their way into the new school and staying.
Furnishings, cups of tea on desks, a room here and there...and things in the Morgue.
Yesterday the kitchen was in full use, food was being prepared, the tables were set...the days paper was even propped up against a bowl of steaming oatmeal.
Well, we don't use that as a kitchen, it was closed off over 100 years ago and the paper for your information was dated 1905.
Things you see from the past are shifting into the present and I don't know why, it's never happened before. It's your standard Chamber of Horrors fare. Boring to individuals of your expertise. So, I guess you'll be...
Staying.
Why of course you are.
This place is one of a kind? You don't say. The racket? It's the door leading to the Isolation Ward. From the sounds of it, it's just been torn off of it's hinges.
Welcome members of the Gaslight Society to the Chamber of Horrors.
© anita marie moscoso 2005-text
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The Chamber of Horrors and The Midnight Shift
What on Earth are you people doing in here?
What tour?
We most certainly do not give tours of the Asylum...let alone the Chapel. Now all of you come out of there at once! Here now, what's this? Let go of me and quit that babbling and for heaven's sake quit that crying. You are all far to old for that.
You, young man, what's going on here?
A woman? With a scalpel?
Ah, I see you've had the misfortune of running into our Mrs Everett. Well, don't expect me to feel sorry for any of you. We were very clear when we opened this school which part of the properties were for your use and which areas were off limits.
If you got chased around by a psychotic ghost that's your problem.
Now follow me, we have to get out of here before the Midnight Shift comes on.
Okay, here we are, safe and sound and back in the school and safely tucked away in the library. I'm going to have Miss Bayloche the Librarian explain somethings to you.
May I suggest that this time you listen.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm Miss Bayloche and I'm the school's librarian. Which is probably why I've never laid eyes on any of you. Hmmm, not in the mood for chit chat are we?
That's just as well. Let me get straight to the point.
This school is not a safe place, but you'll do just fine if you understand a few things.
One is the original staff is still here.
Mrs Everett, the Hellers, the teachers and lab workers. They are all still here and they are all still very busy doing the same things they did over 100 years ago, I'm very sorry to say.
One of the worst members of this staff is a very unstable woman who is the head nurse...her name is Elizabeth Telrico and she is perhaps the most worrying to the present day staff because she's in charge of the Midnight Shift.
Simply put, the Midnight Shift is the heart of this school.
At exactly the stroke of Midnight all of the lights in the Asylum blazed on and you could see the Midnight Shift come up the path from the north side of the Asylum.
They walked across a footbridge and came in through the back entrance.
Then the doors and windows would slam shut just as the last member of the night staff entered the building. You could hear the echoes for miles around, I've been told.
Now most of the day staff were locals, they never really met the night staff and tried very hard to keep it that way.
No it's not a mystery why.
Go ahead and take a look out the window, it faces north.
You can see the trail the Midnight Shift used, the bridge they crossed. That piece of property doesn't connect to the road. It's fenced off.
It's the cemetery.
© anita marie moscoso 2005-text
What tour?
We most certainly do not give tours of the Asylum...let alone the Chapel. Now all of you come out of there at once! Here now, what's this? Let go of me and quit that babbling and for heaven's sake quit that crying. You are all far to old for that.
You, young man, what's going on here?
A woman? With a scalpel?
Ah, I see you've had the misfortune of running into our Mrs Everett. Well, don't expect me to feel sorry for any of you. We were very clear when we opened this school which part of the properties were for your use and which areas were off limits.
If you got chased around by a psychotic ghost that's your problem.
Now follow me, we have to get out of here before the Midnight Shift comes on.
Okay, here we are, safe and sound and back in the school and safely tucked away in the library. I'm going to have Miss Bayloche the Librarian explain somethings to you.
May I suggest that this time you listen.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm Miss Bayloche and I'm the school's librarian. Which is probably why I've never laid eyes on any of you. Hmmm, not in the mood for chit chat are we?
That's just as well. Let me get straight to the point.
This school is not a safe place, but you'll do just fine if you understand a few things.
One is the original staff is still here.
Mrs Everett, the Hellers, the teachers and lab workers. They are all still here and they are all still very busy doing the same things they did over 100 years ago, I'm very sorry to say.
One of the worst members of this staff is a very unstable woman who is the head nurse...her name is Elizabeth Telrico and she is perhaps the most worrying to the present day staff because she's in charge of the Midnight Shift.
Simply put, the Midnight Shift is the heart of this school.
At exactly the stroke of Midnight all of the lights in the Asylum blazed on and you could see the Midnight Shift come up the path from the north side of the Asylum.
They walked across a footbridge and came in through the back entrance.
Then the doors and windows would slam shut just as the last member of the night staff entered the building. You could hear the echoes for miles around, I've been told.
Now most of the day staff were locals, they never really met the night staff and tried very hard to keep it that way.
No it's not a mystery why.
Go ahead and take a look out the window, it faces north.
You can see the trail the Midnight Shift used, the bridge they crossed. That piece of property doesn't connect to the road. It's fenced off.
It's the cemetery.
© anita marie moscoso 2005-text
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Revenge of the Werewolves
The car door opens and a dark figure steps out...
It is a man holding a briefcase. He opens it and gazes in. Suddenly a wild gust of wind swirls the papers and they fall to the ground. A page lands at your feet. You pick it up and read it. It's the same kind of story about 'Revenge of the Werewolves'. You keep reading until the realization hits you. It is about a kid winning a competition, just like you, there is a man, just like you, theand there is a story just like the one you are reading. You convince yourself it is all a silly coincidence.
You decide to let the people in the lodge know that you're here. You step up to the door. The knob is a bit werewolves face. You put your hand on the knob and start to turn it. Just then a sting in your palm makes you jump. You take your hands off the knob and gaze down at your palm. It's bleeding!You shove the door open with a small push. You're not putting your hand on the handle again! You step inside. It is a huge building with a counter in the middle. You step up to the counter. No one is there. Suddenly a hand taps your shoulder. You turn around slowly. A kid about your age gazes at you solemnly. He wore a T-shirt and faded jeans. "My name is Cory," he said. "Get away from here," he said. You were just to ask why, when voices were heard upstairs. They were coming closer. Cory grabbed your arm and pulled you into a closet. It is pitch black. You peer through the keyhole. You see these creatures. They look like werewolves! They are werewolves! What is going on? Then you hear the most terrifying words. They sent a chill down your spine. "Tonight is the revenge of the werewolves" one of them said. "Whoever is in this building stays here FOREVER!!!
by Demi Grade 5/6 Epping Primary School
It is a man holding a briefcase. He opens it and gazes in. Suddenly a wild gust of wind swirls the papers and they fall to the ground. A page lands at your feet. You pick it up and read it. It's the same kind of story about 'Revenge of the Werewolves'. You keep reading until the realization hits you. It is about a kid winning a competition, just like you, there is a man, just like you, theand there is a story just like the one you are reading. You convince yourself it is all a silly coincidence.
You decide to let the people in the lodge know that you're here. You step up to the door. The knob is a bit werewolves face. You put your hand on the knob and start to turn it. Just then a sting in your palm makes you jump. You take your hands off the knob and gaze down at your palm. It's bleeding!You shove the door open with a small push. You're not putting your hand on the handle again! You step inside. It is a huge building with a counter in the middle. You step up to the counter. No one is there. Suddenly a hand taps your shoulder. You turn around slowly. A kid about your age gazes at you solemnly. He wore a T-shirt and faded jeans. "My name is Cory," he said. "Get away from here," he said. You were just to ask why, when voices were heard upstairs. They were coming closer. Cory grabbed your arm and pulled you into a closet. It is pitch black. You peer through the keyhole. You see these creatures. They look like werewolves! They are werewolves! What is going on? Then you hear the most terrifying words. They sent a chill down your spine. "Tonight is the revenge of the werewolves" one of them said. "Whoever is in this building stays here FOREVER!!!
by Demi Grade 5/6 Epping Primary School
Little Red Cap, Groovy Gran and The Wolf
One day there was a girl who was a mad Sydney Swan’s supporter, and therefore she always wore a red Sydney cap. Everyone thought she was so cute and called her Little Red Cap.
One day Little Red Cap’s Groovy Gran sent her an SMS. “Hey LRC Im sik, can u bring chickn soup,” it said.
Little Red Cap loved her Groovy Gran so much that she immediately grabbed a can of soup. “Hey Joan” – for Little Red Cap was going through a teen rebellion stage that involved calling her Mum by the first name – “I’m going to see my Groovy Gran.”
“Ok, as long I don’t need to go,” Joan replied.
Little Red Cap’s Groovy Gran was Little Red Cap’s father’s mother, and Joan and her had never really got along. So Little Red Cap headed off alone, walking down the street to the train station.
After validating her ticket Little Red Cap wandered on the platform where there was a wolf. Little Red Cap liked dogs so she said: “Hi doggy.”
“Woof, woof,” said the Wolf, which clearly meant: “Hello, Little Red Cap, how are you on this fine Autumn morning?”
Little Red Cap was surprised that a Wolf could talk, so she told it her plans for the day. “I’m taking chicken soup to my Groovy Gran.”
“Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof,” said the Wolf, which clearly meant: “Aha.”
Then the train came so Little Red Cap and the Wolf got on. Little Red Cap thought it was funny to see a Wolf on the train, so she laughed.
“Do you have a problem?” a voice said.
Little Red Cap looked up and saw a boy wearing a West Coast Eagles cap. She glared at him.
He glared back.
They glared at each other. And everyone around them were silent, afraid to say anything…
That was except the Wolf, he noticed that Little Red Cap was far too busy glaring and did not notice her stop. He said: “Woof,” which Little Red Cap thoughts meant: “Go the Swans!” but actually meant “If you don’t get off I will and I’ll eat your Groovy Gran.”
Little Red Cap nodded, so the Wolf shrugged, got off and went to find the Groovy Gran. When he got to her house he knocked with his head and almost concussed himself.
“Who is there?” Groovy Gran said.
“Woof.”
“Pardon?”
“Woof.”
“Is that you Little Red Cap?”
“Woof.”
“That wasn’t no, must be yes.” So she opened the door.
He ate her.
Meanwhile Little Red Cap stopped glaring and realized she had gone too far. So she got off the train and caught one going back the other way.
When she arrived at her Groovy Gran’s house she knocked.
“Woof.”
“My, Groovy Gran, you sound like you’re dying. I’m coming in.”
She went in. The Wolf was wearing a sun hat.
“That is the worst attempt at Groovy Gran impersonating I have ever seen.”
“Woof,” said the Wolf, which meant: “****.” But Little Red Cap thought meant: “I ate your Groovy Gran,” which by sheer coincidence was true.
“You ate my Groovy Gran!” Little Red Cap said.
“Woof,” the Wolf said. Which meant: “You gave me permission if you dob me in, I’ll have you up on conspiracy to murder charges.”
“****,” said Little Red Cap. Which meant: “Oops.”
So they decided to cover up the murder, go their own ways and try to live happily ever after.
by Grant Grievan - Student Teacher at LaTrobe Secondary College
One day Little Red Cap’s Groovy Gran sent her an SMS. “Hey LRC Im sik, can u bring chickn soup,” it said.
Little Red Cap loved her Groovy Gran so much that she immediately grabbed a can of soup. “Hey Joan” – for Little Red Cap was going through a teen rebellion stage that involved calling her Mum by the first name – “I’m going to see my Groovy Gran.”
“Ok, as long I don’t need to go,” Joan replied.
Little Red Cap’s Groovy Gran was Little Red Cap’s father’s mother, and Joan and her had never really got along. So Little Red Cap headed off alone, walking down the street to the train station.
After validating her ticket Little Red Cap wandered on the platform where there was a wolf. Little Red Cap liked dogs so she said: “Hi doggy.”
“Woof, woof,” said the Wolf, which clearly meant: “Hello, Little Red Cap, how are you on this fine Autumn morning?”
Little Red Cap was surprised that a Wolf could talk, so she told it her plans for the day. “I’m taking chicken soup to my Groovy Gran.”
“Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof,” said the Wolf, which clearly meant: “Aha.”
Then the train came so Little Red Cap and the Wolf got on. Little Red Cap thought it was funny to see a Wolf on the train, so she laughed.
“Do you have a problem?” a voice said.
Little Red Cap looked up and saw a boy wearing a West Coast Eagles cap. She glared at him.
He glared back.
They glared at each other. And everyone around them were silent, afraid to say anything…
That was except the Wolf, he noticed that Little Red Cap was far too busy glaring and did not notice her stop. He said: “Woof,” which Little Red Cap thoughts meant: “Go the Swans!” but actually meant “If you don’t get off I will and I’ll eat your Groovy Gran.”
Little Red Cap nodded, so the Wolf shrugged, got off and went to find the Groovy Gran. When he got to her house he knocked with his head and almost concussed himself.
“Who is there?” Groovy Gran said.
“Woof.”
“Pardon?”
“Woof.”
“Is that you Little Red Cap?”
“Woof.”
“That wasn’t no, must be yes.” So she opened the door.
He ate her.
Meanwhile Little Red Cap stopped glaring and realized she had gone too far. So she got off the train and caught one going back the other way.
When she arrived at her Groovy Gran’s house she knocked.
“Woof.”
“My, Groovy Gran, you sound like you’re dying. I’m coming in.”
She went in. The Wolf was wearing a sun hat.
“That is the worst attempt at Groovy Gran impersonating I have ever seen.”
“Woof,” said the Wolf, which meant: “****.” But Little Red Cap thought meant: “I ate your Groovy Gran,” which by sheer coincidence was true.
“You ate my Groovy Gran!” Little Red Cap said.
“Woof,” the Wolf said. Which meant: “You gave me permission if you dob me in, I’ll have you up on conspiracy to murder charges.”
“****,” said Little Red Cap. Which meant: “Oops.”
So they decided to cover up the murder, go their own ways and try to live happily ever after.
by Grant Grievan - Student Teacher at LaTrobe Secondary College
Shewolf Stories by LaTrobe University Diploma of Education Students
In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt. While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch.
Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring. The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off.
Finish this story
Students at LaTrobe University School of Education were presented with the same Shewolf material that had been presented to students ranging in age from Grade1/2 to Year 12. These are some of their stories.
Werewolf by Joanna Seidel
The nobleman goes to the kitchen and sees his wife nursing a wounded arm.....
Her arm is wrapped in a whit cloth and blood is seeping through the layers. She looks at her husband with fear in her eyes, rises slowly and moves to the hearth to lie in front of the fire and keep warm. The nobleman stares at his wife in horror and disbelief. But he loves her. He cannot help but sense how hard it has been for his beloved to live such a double life. He leaves her alone by the kitchen fire and heads for the quiet of his study to devise a plan.
The nobleman waits for the next full moon. An hour before midnight he leaves his bed-chamber and prepares for his sojourn to the deep, dark forest. He carries no weapons, not wanting to appear as a hunter, and meanders slowly with the heart of an old man. He finds a tall tree and leans against its sturdy trunk, waiting for the werewolf to appear. Shortly before midnight he hears the sound of a snapping twig and looks around him. A shadowy figure creeps stealthily across the forest floor, unaware it is being watched. The nobleman opens the package he brought with him from the castle, hoping that the smell of food will bring the creature nearer to his hiding place. His plan works and the animal, its snout in the air and ears alert, pads soflty toward the smell of sustenance. It seems unafraid. It smell no fear from the nobleman. It eats the morsels laid at the nobleman's feet. When sated, it lays down on the forest floor and rests its head near the nobleman's outstretched hand.
The nobleman lays down with the wolf and falls asleep, not stirring until dawn shines its light on the trees above. He sits up, turns his head to look for the wolf but finds he is alone. He feels stiff and sore from his night in the forest, but his neck seems to have suffered the most. He reaches his hand up to rub his sore muscles and touches a recent wound, crusted with dried blood.
The nobleman has no memory of receiving the wound but he finds upon his return to the castle that he feels no fear or horror at the sight of his wife. Tenderness overwhelms him. They never speak of how his beloved lost her hand. There is no need. They are together again now and will sleep indoors no more. Their lives have come together not only in this world, but in another world that will hold their secret forever.
Another Werewolf Story by Mink Schapper
Sir Bob and Lady Madge: a story of love and loss
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a nobleman in a big castle in the countryside. Beyond the castle were deep dark woods, and the villagers said that in the woods there was a werewolf.
The nobleman, (whose name was Sir Bob) sent his hunter out to kill the werewolf. The hunter went into the deep woods, and came across the werewolf. There was a battle, he cut off the werewolf’s right paw, and the werewolf escaped.
The hunter said to himself, “I don’t want to go further into the woods, to find the bleeding, enraged werewolf. He will surely trick me and kill me. I can tell milord that I have, indeed killed the werewolf, showing him the paw as proof.” So he went home to bed, well pleased with himself.
At dawn he rose from his bed, prepared himself to speak to Sir Bob, had a hearty breakfast of porridge with a good dash of salt, and was up at the castle as the people began their day. He presented himself to Sir Bob, telling a story of courage and daring, finishing with a flourish and presenting the paw, wrapped in a bloody kerchief. He quickly left the room, as he’d never been good around blood.
His quick exit was fortuitous. When Sir Bob unwrapped the kerchief, he discovered, not the paw of a wolf, but the fair ringed hand of his wife, Lady Madge. He blanched, then bravely decided to confront Lady Madge with this ghastly evidence of her other life.
Breakfast smells issued from the kitchen, and he could hear his wife’s gentle voice, singing a soothing lullaby, amongst the other busy kitchen noises. He entered the kitchen, and saw, to his dismay, that she was, indeed nursing a wounded arm.
“My darling, dearest. What has happened to you?” he exclaimed.
She cried pitifully, “I was making your favourite meal, wolf-soup, and when I was chopping through the sinews, the hatchet slipped and cut clean through my wrist. My hand fell into the soup, see?”
With trepidation, he peered into the large cauldron, and sure enough, there was a sinewy, gristly hand-looking object, bubbling noisily away, along with the rest of the meat, onions, turnips, herbs and spices. It smelt good.
“Please, my darling!” she pleaded. “To show me how much you love me, please let us eat this meal together, so that we will have taken back into our bodies, that which has been taken away from me?”
Poor Sir Bob was torn. He loved his dear wife, and very much wanted to reassure her of his attachment to her. They would indeed partake of this meal together, but first he needed to have Lady Madge’s dreadful wound attended to. He called the local healer to pay a visit, and she made a draught of healing herbs for Lady Madge to drink, and a poultice to wrap around her stump. After which they ate, and a delicious meal it was indeed.
Sir Bob had many important nobleman duties, so he sent Lady Madge off to bed and recovery. He saddled his horse and rode the countryside, visiting here and there, until night began to fall, and he headed home to his safe castle.
He was quite exhausted, so after a quick bite to eat, he fell into bed, and sleep overcame him as his wife snored close by.
At midnight, he woke with a start, realising that in his shock and haste the morning before he had left the werewolf’s paw/hand in his audience-chamber. He crept out of bed, out into the cold stone hall, and along to the grand room, with his grand chair and the kneeling cushion at its foot, for supplicants to be comfortable. As he walked closer to the chair, he could discern a faint glow, and the bloodied kerchief was opened. The hand had turned again into a wolf’s paw.
Full of fear he sprinted back to find an empty bed, the wedding ring, and tears on his wife’s pillow.
Sir Bob never saw Lady Madge again.
The moral of this story is: if you love your love, (were) warts ‘n all, show them you love all of them, or they might disappear!
More Werewolf Shenanigans by Liz Packett
With a look of disgust on his face, the nobleman asked his wife, "What happened to your hand?" With a confused look on her face, the wife said, "I don't know. I just woke up this morning and it was gone."
Without wasting another moment, the nobleman called for the finest surgeon in the kingdom to reattach his wife's hand.
The surgeon put the nobleman's wife under anaesthetic and sewed the hand back into place. But as he did so a strange thing began to happen. The nobleman's wife started to grow hair, then more hair, then even more hair, until her whole body was covered. There was no denying it now. The nobleman's wife was a werewolf!
So horrified was the nobleman that he ordered the surgeon to pump up the levels of anaesthetic until his wife/werewolf was dead.
After a hasty but tasteful funeral, the nobleman went on a holiday to the neighbouring kingdom. Here, he a wealthy and attractive young woman with no werewolf tendencies. They were promptly married and the nobleman couldn't be happier. However, there were a few things about his new wife that did seem a little strange. Like the fact that she didn't like the sun, had a fondness for bats and tended to shrivel up when garlic was served in her pasta...
The Hand That Feeds You by Rebecca Reggars
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a nobleman who lived in a big castle. Beyond the castle were the deep dark woods and the villagers used to say that a werewolf lived in the woods. The nobleman, displeased with the thought of a ware wolf living so near to the castle, sent a hunter into the deep dark woods to kill the werewolf. The hunter bravely entered the deep dark woods and stumbled across the ware wolf. They fought. The werewolf, trying to defend itself, was strong but the hunter prevailed and cut off the poor werewolf’s paw. The unjustly injured werewolf limped away favouring his injured leg now devoid of its paw. The hunter hadn’t done his job – he hadn’t killed the werewolf, but he knew that the werewolf didn’t deserve to be killed. It was causing no pains to anyone … it was just trying to exist. The hunter decided to deceive the nobleman and to take the werewolf’s paw in a pouch to the castle to prove that he had “killed” the “wicked beast”.
Back at the castle, the nobleman opened the pouch presented to him by the hunter with a triumphant smirk. But when he looked inside the pouch, the smirk was replaced by a look of pure horror. There was no paw inside the pouch. There was a hand. A feminine hand with a beautiful ring on its ring finger. The nobleman recognised the ring immediately as the engagement ring he had given to his wife. Praising the hunter for having done a “good job” the nobleman walked down the stairs to the kitchen holding on to the railing to keep him steady for his heart was pounding and his head was spinning. Could she, his beautiful wife, be a filthy beast? In the kitchen his wife stood by the fire nursing her arm with a steady stream of tears cascading down her peach-coloured cheeks.
He approached her slowly, gingerly. “My love?” he began in a tremor, barely able to hear his voice over the sound of his own heart thumping so rapidly and forcefully that he feared it would escape from his chest. “What has happened to your … hand?” he managed to ask. His wife looked up at him. The tears had stopped streaming down her face but had stained her peach-coloured cheeks a crimson red. He stepped back. There was something in her eyes that frightened him. Sensing his fear, she looked away and moved from the fire to the kitchen bench where she began to chop carrots. He couldn’t help but notice that she only used one hand and that the other, seemingly injured, hand that she had been previously nursing was hidden behind her back. Anger now replacing his fear the nobleman asked again: “What happened to your hand?”. She said nothing but smiled wryly. “I asked you a question!” screamed the nobleman as he walked over to her and again repeated “what happened to your hand?”. The woman stopped chopping carrots and looked into his eyes. “What hand?” she asked innocently. Fed up, the nobleman grabbed the arm that was concealed behind her and screamed when he saw that there was nothing but a bloody stump where her beautiful, fragile wrist should have been. “What hand?” repeated the wife then in a deafeningly loud, high pitched voice screamed: “I HAVE NO HAND!”. The nobleman stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Regaining her composure the woman said: “Your hunter failed” she then picked up the knife she had been using to chop carrots with and slit his throat. She then washed the blood from the knife, and took it upstairs with her where she opened the safe, took the jewels and money and some of her favorite personal effects, placed them neatly in a suitcase, and left the castle, explaining to one of the (female) servants on the way out that a burglar had come into the castle, killed her husband, cut off one of her hands and forced her to open the safe from which he stole all of their money and jewels. The servant smiled knowingly and said: “I rather thought he would have taken you with him as a hostage” to which the woman replied: “He did”. The servant winked, and waited a good two hours before calling the authorities.
It is said that the “burglar” killed the woman as soon as they were clear of the village and that her ghost reappeared exactly one year later and cut off one of the hunter’s hands. This of course can not be proven though, for who would believe such a story?
The moral of this story: don’t cut off the hand that feeds you.
Label Your Wolfbane Clearly
In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt.
While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch. Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring.
The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his wife she finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest.
"How did this happen?" the nobleman asked his wife.
"Well", his wife answered "I was making some soup last Tuesday and the cook mislabelled the herbs. I was trying to add parsley and instead I added Wolfbane. Now I am a Werewolf."
The Nobleman got scared and he ran away screaming like a little girl. It was only when he passed the window and saw the full moon that he felt himself change.
Fear filled him for he had eaten the soup too.
Just then the Hunter came around the corner, saw the Nobleman and threw a silver dagger into him.
He died.
The moral of this story is to always label your wolfbane clearly.
Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring. The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off.
Finish this story
Students at LaTrobe University School of Education were presented with the same Shewolf material that had been presented to students ranging in age from Grade1/2 to Year 12. These are some of their stories.
Werewolf by Joanna Seidel
The nobleman goes to the kitchen and sees his wife nursing a wounded arm.....
Her arm is wrapped in a whit cloth and blood is seeping through the layers. She looks at her husband with fear in her eyes, rises slowly and moves to the hearth to lie in front of the fire and keep warm. The nobleman stares at his wife in horror and disbelief. But he loves her. He cannot help but sense how hard it has been for his beloved to live such a double life. He leaves her alone by the kitchen fire and heads for the quiet of his study to devise a plan.
The nobleman waits for the next full moon. An hour before midnight he leaves his bed-chamber and prepares for his sojourn to the deep, dark forest. He carries no weapons, not wanting to appear as a hunter, and meanders slowly with the heart of an old man. He finds a tall tree and leans against its sturdy trunk, waiting for the werewolf to appear. Shortly before midnight he hears the sound of a snapping twig and looks around him. A shadowy figure creeps stealthily across the forest floor, unaware it is being watched. The nobleman opens the package he brought with him from the castle, hoping that the smell of food will bring the creature nearer to his hiding place. His plan works and the animal, its snout in the air and ears alert, pads soflty toward the smell of sustenance. It seems unafraid. It smell no fear from the nobleman. It eats the morsels laid at the nobleman's feet. When sated, it lays down on the forest floor and rests its head near the nobleman's outstretched hand.
The nobleman lays down with the wolf and falls asleep, not stirring until dawn shines its light on the trees above. He sits up, turns his head to look for the wolf but finds he is alone. He feels stiff and sore from his night in the forest, but his neck seems to have suffered the most. He reaches his hand up to rub his sore muscles and touches a recent wound, crusted with dried blood.
The nobleman has no memory of receiving the wound but he finds upon his return to the castle that he feels no fear or horror at the sight of his wife. Tenderness overwhelms him. They never speak of how his beloved lost her hand. There is no need. They are together again now and will sleep indoors no more. Their lives have come together not only in this world, but in another world that will hold their secret forever.
Another Werewolf Story by Mink Schapper
Sir Bob and Lady Madge: a story of love and loss
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a nobleman in a big castle in the countryside. Beyond the castle were deep dark woods, and the villagers said that in the woods there was a werewolf.
The nobleman, (whose name was Sir Bob) sent his hunter out to kill the werewolf. The hunter went into the deep woods, and came across the werewolf. There was a battle, he cut off the werewolf’s right paw, and the werewolf escaped.
The hunter said to himself, “I don’t want to go further into the woods, to find the bleeding, enraged werewolf. He will surely trick me and kill me. I can tell milord that I have, indeed killed the werewolf, showing him the paw as proof.” So he went home to bed, well pleased with himself.
At dawn he rose from his bed, prepared himself to speak to Sir Bob, had a hearty breakfast of porridge with a good dash of salt, and was up at the castle as the people began their day. He presented himself to Sir Bob, telling a story of courage and daring, finishing with a flourish and presenting the paw, wrapped in a bloody kerchief. He quickly left the room, as he’d never been good around blood.
His quick exit was fortuitous. When Sir Bob unwrapped the kerchief, he discovered, not the paw of a wolf, but the fair ringed hand of his wife, Lady Madge. He blanched, then bravely decided to confront Lady Madge with this ghastly evidence of her other life.
Breakfast smells issued from the kitchen, and he could hear his wife’s gentle voice, singing a soothing lullaby, amongst the other busy kitchen noises. He entered the kitchen, and saw, to his dismay, that she was, indeed nursing a wounded arm.
“My darling, dearest. What has happened to you?” he exclaimed.
She cried pitifully, “I was making your favourite meal, wolf-soup, and when I was chopping through the sinews, the hatchet slipped and cut clean through my wrist. My hand fell into the soup, see?”
With trepidation, he peered into the large cauldron, and sure enough, there was a sinewy, gristly hand-looking object, bubbling noisily away, along with the rest of the meat, onions, turnips, herbs and spices. It smelt good.
“Please, my darling!” she pleaded. “To show me how much you love me, please let us eat this meal together, so that we will have taken back into our bodies, that which has been taken away from me?”
Poor Sir Bob was torn. He loved his dear wife, and very much wanted to reassure her of his attachment to her. They would indeed partake of this meal together, but first he needed to have Lady Madge’s dreadful wound attended to. He called the local healer to pay a visit, and she made a draught of healing herbs for Lady Madge to drink, and a poultice to wrap around her stump. After which they ate, and a delicious meal it was indeed.
Sir Bob had many important nobleman duties, so he sent Lady Madge off to bed and recovery. He saddled his horse and rode the countryside, visiting here and there, until night began to fall, and he headed home to his safe castle.
He was quite exhausted, so after a quick bite to eat, he fell into bed, and sleep overcame him as his wife snored close by.
At midnight, he woke with a start, realising that in his shock and haste the morning before he had left the werewolf’s paw/hand in his audience-chamber. He crept out of bed, out into the cold stone hall, and along to the grand room, with his grand chair and the kneeling cushion at its foot, for supplicants to be comfortable. As he walked closer to the chair, he could discern a faint glow, and the bloodied kerchief was opened. The hand had turned again into a wolf’s paw.
Full of fear he sprinted back to find an empty bed, the wedding ring, and tears on his wife’s pillow.
Sir Bob never saw Lady Madge again.
The moral of this story is: if you love your love, (were) warts ‘n all, show them you love all of them, or they might disappear!
More Werewolf Shenanigans by Liz Packett
With a look of disgust on his face, the nobleman asked his wife, "What happened to your hand?" With a confused look on her face, the wife said, "I don't know. I just woke up this morning and it was gone."
Without wasting another moment, the nobleman called for the finest surgeon in the kingdom to reattach his wife's hand.
The surgeon put the nobleman's wife under anaesthetic and sewed the hand back into place. But as he did so a strange thing began to happen. The nobleman's wife started to grow hair, then more hair, then even more hair, until her whole body was covered. There was no denying it now. The nobleman's wife was a werewolf!
So horrified was the nobleman that he ordered the surgeon to pump up the levels of anaesthetic until his wife/werewolf was dead.
After a hasty but tasteful funeral, the nobleman went on a holiday to the neighbouring kingdom. Here, he a wealthy and attractive young woman with no werewolf tendencies. They were promptly married and the nobleman couldn't be happier. However, there were a few things about his new wife that did seem a little strange. Like the fact that she didn't like the sun, had a fondness for bats and tended to shrivel up when garlic was served in her pasta...
The Hand That Feeds You by Rebecca Reggars
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a nobleman who lived in a big castle. Beyond the castle were the deep dark woods and the villagers used to say that a werewolf lived in the woods. The nobleman, displeased with the thought of a ware wolf living so near to the castle, sent a hunter into the deep dark woods to kill the werewolf. The hunter bravely entered the deep dark woods and stumbled across the ware wolf. They fought. The werewolf, trying to defend itself, was strong but the hunter prevailed and cut off the poor werewolf’s paw. The unjustly injured werewolf limped away favouring his injured leg now devoid of its paw. The hunter hadn’t done his job – he hadn’t killed the werewolf, but he knew that the werewolf didn’t deserve to be killed. It was causing no pains to anyone … it was just trying to exist. The hunter decided to deceive the nobleman and to take the werewolf’s paw in a pouch to the castle to prove that he had “killed” the “wicked beast”.
Back at the castle, the nobleman opened the pouch presented to him by the hunter with a triumphant smirk. But when he looked inside the pouch, the smirk was replaced by a look of pure horror. There was no paw inside the pouch. There was a hand. A feminine hand with a beautiful ring on its ring finger. The nobleman recognised the ring immediately as the engagement ring he had given to his wife. Praising the hunter for having done a “good job” the nobleman walked down the stairs to the kitchen holding on to the railing to keep him steady for his heart was pounding and his head was spinning. Could she, his beautiful wife, be a filthy beast? In the kitchen his wife stood by the fire nursing her arm with a steady stream of tears cascading down her peach-coloured cheeks.
He approached her slowly, gingerly. “My love?” he began in a tremor, barely able to hear his voice over the sound of his own heart thumping so rapidly and forcefully that he feared it would escape from his chest. “What has happened to your … hand?” he managed to ask. His wife looked up at him. The tears had stopped streaming down her face but had stained her peach-coloured cheeks a crimson red. He stepped back. There was something in her eyes that frightened him. Sensing his fear, she looked away and moved from the fire to the kitchen bench where she began to chop carrots. He couldn’t help but notice that she only used one hand and that the other, seemingly injured, hand that she had been previously nursing was hidden behind her back. Anger now replacing his fear the nobleman asked again: “What happened to your hand?”. She said nothing but smiled wryly. “I asked you a question!” screamed the nobleman as he walked over to her and again repeated “what happened to your hand?”. The woman stopped chopping carrots and looked into his eyes. “What hand?” she asked innocently. Fed up, the nobleman grabbed the arm that was concealed behind her and screamed when he saw that there was nothing but a bloody stump where her beautiful, fragile wrist should have been. “What hand?” repeated the wife then in a deafeningly loud, high pitched voice screamed: “I HAVE NO HAND!”. The nobleman stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Regaining her composure the woman said: “Your hunter failed” she then picked up the knife she had been using to chop carrots with and slit his throat. She then washed the blood from the knife, and took it upstairs with her where she opened the safe, took the jewels and money and some of her favorite personal effects, placed them neatly in a suitcase, and left the castle, explaining to one of the (female) servants on the way out that a burglar had come into the castle, killed her husband, cut off one of her hands and forced her to open the safe from which he stole all of their money and jewels. The servant smiled knowingly and said: “I rather thought he would have taken you with him as a hostage” to which the woman replied: “He did”. The servant winked, and waited a good two hours before calling the authorities.
It is said that the “burglar” killed the woman as soon as they were clear of the village and that her ghost reappeared exactly one year later and cut off one of the hunter’s hands. This of course can not be proven though, for who would believe such a story?
The moral of this story: don’t cut off the hand that feeds you.
Label Your Wolfbane Clearly
In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt.
While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch. Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring.
The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his wife she finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest.
"How did this happen?" the nobleman asked his wife.
"Well", his wife answered "I was making some soup last Tuesday and the cook mislabelled the herbs. I was trying to add parsley and instead I added Wolfbane. Now I am a Werewolf."
The Nobleman got scared and he ran away screaming like a little girl. It was only when he passed the window and saw the full moon that he felt himself change.
Fear filled him for he had eaten the soup too.
Just then the Hunter came around the corner, saw the Nobleman and threw a silver dagger into him.
He died.
The moral of this story is to always label your wolfbane clearly.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Good Bad Wolves
As a part of the Werewolf project that I have undertaken with students, ranging in age from from Prep through to Diploma of Education students at LaTrobe University, we read a few versions of Little Red Riding Hood.
Apart from fracturing this old fairy story we decided that there were so many variations to this classic tale that the wolf could have been framed - might well have been innocent all along. Grade Two and Three students have had a wonderful time making good/bad wolf masks and they have put forward defenses and also had the wolf admit it's guilt.
Ruth Stott, from Reservoir East got right into the spirit of the project and has shown her students the good and bad wolves. You be the judge as to what the truth really is about that big bad wolf that featured in so many clssic tales.
The Guilty Wolf
You know why I am here sitting in this jail. I was caught trying to catch and eat Red Riding Hood and her grandmother.
You know those stories about me trying to eat them well they are true. But that is not all of it. Not everyone knows about my other little ventures, which alas have failed.
It was me who tried to catch and eat those cutesy pie little pigs.
It wasn't a mean old witch who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel. It was me. I am really good at disguises.
And it was me that caused Sleeping Beauty to prick her finger on the spinning wheel. That stupid prince foiled my plan.
It wasn't the wicked stepmother who poisoned Snow White with the apple. I had already eaten her stepmother, which I wasn't really happy about because I admired how her brain worked. As I said, I am really good at disguises.
And I am good at escaping, which is what I am about to do in a few minutes.
My final piece of advice is to check out your teacher because I have done my homework. Teachers always have kids near them and I love to eat kids. If there is a kid in your grade missing after lunch they may not have gone home sick or to the dentist. They may jsut have been my lunch.
I Have Been Framed
I suppose you are wondering why I am sitting here in this cage. Well this is why! That girl is a liar. She tells really big whoppers. She is Little Red Riding Hood. I didn't try to eat her grandmother. All those stories she told about me are lies. This is what really happpened.
It was a beautiful spring morning and I was wandering through the woods picking flowers for my grandmother. Suddenly out from behind a tree jumped Little Red Riding Hood. Boy did she give me a scare. She gave me the evil look and asked what I was doing and where I was going. I was so frightened I told her that I was picking flowers for my grandmother who was sick and that I was going to give them to her. She asked me where grandmother lived. I told her in the cave at the end of the woods. Then just as quickly she disappeared.
What I didn't know was that Red Riding Hood had run to my grandmother's cave, tricked here way inside by pretending to be me and locked my grandmother in the cupboard. Then she hopped in to my grandmother's bed and pulled the blankets up to her head and pretended to be asleep.
When I got to my grandmother's cave I called out to her to let her know I was there. I didn't just walk in because that would have been rude.
I walked up to my grandmother's bed to give her the flowers and ask how she was. I thought it was unusual that my grandmother would hide her face from me but maybe she didn't want me to catch whatever was making her sick.
I sat on the floor next to my grandmother's bed to talk to her and tell her what I had been doing at school. Then I noticed something strange. My grandmother had shrunk and lost a lot of weight. She wasn't taking up very much space in bed. Slowly I stood up and went up to the top of the bed and gently pulled back the blankets.
Boy did I get a fright. Out of that bed jumped Little Red Riding Hoood with a hatchet in her hand and a mean look on her face. Well I screamed and ran. I ran until I could run no longer. She was getting closer. I was so out of breath. I stopped to try to catch my breath. I could see a man cutting wood. I thought he would be able to help. But I was wrong. Red Riding Hood had seen him too. She suddenly stopped chasing me and screamed and yelled.
"Help! Help! The wolf is trying to catch me."
I couldn't believe my ears,
Well do you think that man was goin going to believe me. No way. He took one look at me and one look at her and decided it was me trying to hurt her.
I turned around and ran. I was so tired I couldn't run very fast. He quickly caught me and threw me to the ground. Then he hit me on the head with a big pieces of wood. It knocked me out.
When I woke up I was all tied up in a cage. Red Riding Hood was standing there telling the police that I had attacked her grandmother. Did anyone believe me? No.
So that is why I am sitting here in this cage in the zoo. The worst thing is that I don't even know what happened to my grandmother and my mother thinks I am mean and horrible. There is no way that I can get her to hear my side of the story.
Ruth Stott - Reservoir East Primary School
Apart from fracturing this old fairy story we decided that there were so many variations to this classic tale that the wolf could have been framed - might well have been innocent all along. Grade Two and Three students have had a wonderful time making good/bad wolf masks and they have put forward defenses and also had the wolf admit it's guilt.
Ruth Stott, from Reservoir East got right into the spirit of the project and has shown her students the good and bad wolves. You be the judge as to what the truth really is about that big bad wolf that featured in so many clssic tales.
The Guilty Wolf
You know why I am here sitting in this jail. I was caught trying to catch and eat Red Riding Hood and her grandmother.
You know those stories about me trying to eat them well they are true. But that is not all of it. Not everyone knows about my other little ventures, which alas have failed.
It was me who tried to catch and eat those cutesy pie little pigs.
It wasn't a mean old witch who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel. It was me. I am really good at disguises.
And it was me that caused Sleeping Beauty to prick her finger on the spinning wheel. That stupid prince foiled my plan.
It wasn't the wicked stepmother who poisoned Snow White with the apple. I had already eaten her stepmother, which I wasn't really happy about because I admired how her brain worked. As I said, I am really good at disguises.
And I am good at escaping, which is what I am about to do in a few minutes.
My final piece of advice is to check out your teacher because I have done my homework. Teachers always have kids near them and I love to eat kids. If there is a kid in your grade missing after lunch they may not have gone home sick or to the dentist. They may jsut have been my lunch.
I Have Been Framed
I suppose you are wondering why I am sitting here in this cage. Well this is why! That girl is a liar. She tells really big whoppers. She is Little Red Riding Hood. I didn't try to eat her grandmother. All those stories she told about me are lies. This is what really happpened.
It was a beautiful spring morning and I was wandering through the woods picking flowers for my grandmother. Suddenly out from behind a tree jumped Little Red Riding Hood. Boy did she give me a scare. She gave me the evil look and asked what I was doing and where I was going. I was so frightened I told her that I was picking flowers for my grandmother who was sick and that I was going to give them to her. She asked me where grandmother lived. I told her in the cave at the end of the woods. Then just as quickly she disappeared.
What I didn't know was that Red Riding Hood had run to my grandmother's cave, tricked here way inside by pretending to be me and locked my grandmother in the cupboard. Then she hopped in to my grandmother's bed and pulled the blankets up to her head and pretended to be asleep.
When I got to my grandmother's cave I called out to her to let her know I was there. I didn't just walk in because that would have been rude.
I walked up to my grandmother's bed to give her the flowers and ask how she was. I thought it was unusual that my grandmother would hide her face from me but maybe she didn't want me to catch whatever was making her sick.
I sat on the floor next to my grandmother's bed to talk to her and tell her what I had been doing at school. Then I noticed something strange. My grandmother had shrunk and lost a lot of weight. She wasn't taking up very much space in bed. Slowly I stood up and went up to the top of the bed and gently pulled back the blankets.
Boy did I get a fright. Out of that bed jumped Little Red Riding Hoood with a hatchet in her hand and a mean look on her face. Well I screamed and ran. I ran until I could run no longer. She was getting closer. I was so out of breath. I stopped to try to catch my breath. I could see a man cutting wood. I thought he would be able to help. But I was wrong. Red Riding Hood had seen him too. She suddenly stopped chasing me and screamed and yelled.
"Help! Help! The wolf is trying to catch me."
I couldn't believe my ears,
Well do you think that man was goin going to believe me. No way. He took one look at me and one look at her and decided it was me trying to hurt her.
I turned around and ran. I was so tired I couldn't run very fast. He quickly caught me and threw me to the ground. Then he hit me on the head with a big pieces of wood. It knocked me out.
When I woke up I was all tied up in a cage. Red Riding Hood was standing there telling the police that I had attacked her grandmother. Did anyone believe me? No.
So that is why I am sitting here in this cage in the zoo. The worst thing is that I don't even know what happened to my grandmother and my mother thinks I am mean and horrible. There is no way that I can get her to hear my side of the story.
Ruth Stott - Reservoir East Primary School
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