Tales from the Hood

Sabrina dragged Puck from his chair and pulled him into the living room, where she snatched a copy of the complete fairy tales of Charles Perrault. She dragged him back to the table and sat down. According to the copyright, Perrault was one of the first people to document the ghastly tale of Red Riding Hood. His book was published in 1697, and his account described a woodcutter who came to Red Riding Hood’s rescue. Sabrina was impressed with the man’s heroics. Not too many people had gone face-to-face with the Wolf and lived to tell the tale. Sabrina noted the story and continued her research.

 

All the Grimms who had lived in Ferryport Landing had kept detailed journals of their adventures. Even Sabrina and Daphne had filled a couple. It was the family responsibility to document anything unusual that occurred in the Everafter community. With this sizable collection at their fingertips, it was obvious to everyone that there were a lot of unusual occurrences in the sleepy river town. Sabrina scanned hundreds of entries. She read about a short-lived military overthrow of the mouse king of Oz. She found sheet music composed by a jazz trumpeter named Boy Blue. She even learned that the Three Blind Mice had once applied for seeing-eye dogs. Generations of Grimms had collected these stories, but Sabrina didn’t find anything else on the woodcutter or what had become of him.

 

She closed the last of her share of the journals and sat back in her chair. “I’ve got nothing.”

 

Granny sighed. “I didn’t find anything, either.”

 

Daphne looked up from her book. “What does the word mani . . . mani . . . fest mean?”

 

“You mean manifest. It’s a list of items that are shipped on a train, bus, truck, whatever,” Granny explained.

 

“Where’s your dictionary?” Sabrina asked.

 

Daphne stuck her tongue out and turned her attention back to Granny Relda. “Can it be a list of people, too?”

 

“Sure,” the old woman said. “What did you find?”

 

“This. It looks like a list of the passengers on Wilhelm’s boat,” the little girl said, handing several sheets of paper to her grandmother.

 

Granny took the papers. “Good work, Daphne. I should have thought of this. Let’s see if there’s a woodcutter on this list.” Granny perused the list. “Hmm, I’m not seeing anyone.”

 

Sabrina reached over and took the list from her grandmother. Sure enough, there was no “woodcutter” on the list. “If only we knew what his name is,” she said.

 

“Well, we don’t need that. We know everyone else’s name. Let’s go through the list and find the people we’ve never heard of,” Granny said. “Assuming that he got on Wilhelm’s boat.”

 

Puck wasn’t thrilled. “Is this going to take long? I have plans.”

 

“The handcuffs were your idea, buster. Any chance we’re going to see that key pop up?” Sabrina said.

 

Puck shook his head.

 

The Grimms went through the list, checking off everyone they knew by name. There were quite a number of people in Ferryport Landing who just had titles for names: the Mad Hatter, the Beast, the Sheriff of Nottingham, or the Queen of Hearts, for example. That made the search much easier. Soon, there was a list of only twenty citizens neither Granny, Sabrina, nor Daphne could identify. Seven of them had odd, almost unpronounceable names, and Granny guessed they were either witches, goblins, or trolls. Eight more were names that were obviously for animals, including Hans the Hedgehog and someone called the Sawhorse. That left five names, and two of them were women.

 

Just then, the phone rang. Granny answered it and cried out in excitement when she heard the caller’s voice. “Little John! We’ve been trying to track down another eyewitness. We believe the woodcutter might actually live in Ferryport Landing. What’s that? Oh, of course. We’ll be right there.”

 

Granny hung up the phone.

 

“What’s going on?” Uncle Jake asked.

 

“Bluebeard has a new witness and they’re starting the trial early today. We have to go over there now!”

 

“Who’s the witness?” Daphne asked.

 

“His name is Howard Hatchett,” Granny replied.

 

Sabrina sighed. “He’s on our list. Howard Hatchett is the woodcutter.”

 

 

 

 

 

The group drove up and down Main Street looking for a parking space. Granny commented that she had never seen the downtown area so busy, even when there were other humans living in town. While they searched, they passed the site where the bank had once stood.

 

“I’ve heard of people robbing banks, but I’ve never heard of anyone stealing the bank itself,” Uncle Jake said as Granny peered out her window at the vacant lot.

 

“That’s quite peculiar,” Granny said. “Unfortunately, it’s a mystery that’s going to have to wait.”

 

Daphne poked her head out the window and craned her neck for a better view. When she pulled herself back inside the car she looked panicked and nervous. She turned to Sabrina and mouthed the words, “What happened?”

 

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