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grandfather clock ticks away her eroding time.
We keep the wolves outside by living well.
He rapped upon the panels with his hairy knuckles.
It is your granddaughter, he mimicked in a high soprano.
Lift up the latch and walk in, my darling.
You can tell them by their eyes, eyes of a beast of prey, nocturnal,
devastating eyes as red as a wound; you can hurl your Bible at him and your
apron after, granny, you thought that was a sure prophylactic against these
infernal vermin. . . now call on Christ and his mother and all the angels in
heaven to protect you but it won't do you any good.
His feral muzzle is sharp as a knife; he drops his golden burden of
gnawed pheasant on the table and puts down your dear girl's basket, too. Oh,
my God, what have you done with her?
Off with his disguise, that coat of forest-coloured cloth, the hat with
the feather tucked into the ribbon; his matted hair streams down his white
shirt and she can see the lice moving in it. The sticks in the hearth shift
and hiss; night and the forest has come into the kitchen with darkness tangled
in its hair.
He strips off his shirt. His skin is the colour and texture of vellum. A
crisp stripe of hair runs down his belly, his nipples are ripe and dark as
poison fruit but he's so thin you could count the ribs under his skin if only
he gave you the time. He strips off his trousers and she can see how hairy his
legs are. His genitals, huge. Ah! huge.
The last thing the old lady saw in all this world was a young man, eyes
like cinders, naked as a stone, approaching her bed.
The wolf is carnivore incarnate.
When he had finished with her, he licked his chops and quickly dressed
himself again, until he was just as he had been when he came through her door.
He burned the inedible hair in the fireplace and wrapped the bones up in a
napkin that he hid away under the bed in the wooden chest in which he found a
clean pair of sheets. These he carefully put on the bed instead of the
tell-tale stained ones he stowed away in the laundry basket. He plumped up the
pillows and shook out the patchwork quilt, he picked up the Bible from the
floor, closed it and laid it on the table. All was as it had been before
except that grandmother was gone. The sticks twitched in the grate, the clock
ticked and the young man sat patiently, deceitfully beside the bed in granny's
nightcap. Rat-a-tap-tap.
Who's there, he quavers in granny's antique falsetto. Only your
granddaughter.
So she came in, bringing with her a flurry of snow that melted in tears
on the tiles, and perhaps she was a little disappointed to see only her
grandmother sitting beside the fire. But then he flung off the blanket and
sprang to the door, pressing his back against it so that she could not get out
again.
The girl looked round the room and saw there was not even the
indentation of a head on the smooth cheek of the pillow and how, for the first
time she'd seen it so, the Bible lay closed on the table. The tick of the
clock cracked like a whip. She wanted her knife from her basket but she did
not dare to reach for it because his eyes were fixed upon her -- huge eyes
that now seemed to shine with a unique, interior light, eyes the size of
saucers, saucers full of Greek fire, diabolic phosphorescence. What big eyes
you have. All the better to see you with.
No trace at all of the old woman except for a tuft of white hair that
had caught in the bark of an unburned log. When the girl saw that, she knew
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she was in danger of death. Where is my grandmother? There's nobody here but
we two, my darling.
Now a great howling rose up all around them, near, very near as close as
the kitchen garden, the howling of a multitude of wolves; she knew the worst
wolves are hairy on the inside and she shivered, in spite of the scarlet shawl
she pulled more closely round herself as if it could protect her although it
was as red as the blood she must spill. Who has come to sing us carols, she
said.
Those are the voices of my brothers, darling; I love the company of
wolves. Look out of the window and you'll see them.
Snow half-caked the lattice and she opened it to look into the garden.
It was a white night of moon and snow; the blizzard whirled round the gaunt,
grey beasts who squatted on their haunches among the rows of winter cabbage,
pointing their sharp snouts to the moon and howling as if their hearts would
break. Ten wolves; twenty wolves -- so many wolves she could not count them,
howling in concert as if demented or deranged. Their eyes reflected the light
from the kitchen and shone like a hundred candles.
It is very cold, poor things, she said; no wonder they howl so.
She closed the window on the wolves' threnody and took off her scarlet
shawl, the colour of poppies, the colour of sacrifices, the colour of her
menses, and, since her fear did her no good, she ceased to be afraid.
What shall I do with my shawl?
Throw it on the fire, dear one. You won't need it again.
She bundled up her shawl and threw it on the blaze, which instantly
consumed it. Then she drew her blouse over her head; her small breasts gleamed
as if the snow had invaded the room.
What shall I do with my blouse?
Into the fire with it, too, my pet.
The thin muslin went flaring up the chimney like a magic bird and now
off came her skirt, her woollen stockings, her shoes, and on to the fire they
went, too, and were gone for good. The firelight shone through the edges of
her skin; now she was clothed only in her untouched integument of flesh. This
dazzling, naked she combed out her hair with her fingers; her hair looked
white as the snow outside. Then went directly to the man with red eyes in
whose unkempt mane the lice moved; she stood up on tiptoe and unbuttoned the
collar of his shirt.
What big arms you have.
All the better to hug you with.
Every wolf in the world now howled a prothalamion outside the window as
she freely gave him the kiss she owed him.
What big teeth you have!
She saw how his jaw began to slaver and the room was full of the clamour
of the forest's Liebestod but the wise child never flinched, even as he
answered: All the better to eat you with.
The girl burst out laughing; she knew she was nobody's meat. She laughed
at him full in the face, she ripped off his shirt for him and flung it into
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