Acid Polka

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Summary

Red Riding Hood with a harrowing twist of faith that transports her and Cinderella to Earth. They meet a Lycan named Fabian who happens to run a successful Stripclub called Acid Polka and the tale unravels from there...... Cover by the talented Paige Garcia

Genre:
Romance / Fantasy
Author:
Lorraine
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
8
Rating:
3.0 1 review
Age Rating:
16+

Red

The Fairview Market is a flurry of activities on this febrific day and this seems to be a convenient location as most villagers can travel on foot.

On this first blush, a young maiden named Red Lange stretches her legs accompanied by her authoritarian mother Inge, and she wears her signature red cloak as it drapes her form and ribbons below her chin.

They stroll passed a booth as it overflows with various hues of juicy apples and freshly grown vegetables from the greengrocer's allotment. The owner with his silver moustache stands in the center as he polishes one apple on his apron. He is too focused on the fruit to notice the ladies, so they move to the next stall.

When the women reach the next cart where naked chickens hang and Mr butcher man pulverizes other meats with his cleaver relishing in the art of slaughter.They look on in disgust so they move on to next stall.

The woman’s nostrils detect a pungent whiff of seafood as they advance towards the fishmongers and Mrs. Lange vocalizes “How sickening” as her fingers pinch on the bridge of her nose.

Luckily for them, the breeze brought along another pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread as that rancid odor of fish is still in orbit.

This region gives off infusions of sweaty society, stallion shit, and a whiff of soil as the sexy Red an exhibitionist at heart parades from vendor to vendor and watches from the corner of her eyes to notice every leer from the opposite sex.

Her raven locks plummet down to her midsection, and her constellation-blue pools entice one person in particular. That individual would be Jack the woodcutter’s apprentice.

He's transfixed with her beauty and as her magma-red robe accumulates on the ground, she sashays towards him.

In a husky voice he says, “Good morrow, Mistress Red Lange, how do you fare” he can feel the shock-waves surge through his being as her eyes penetrate his soul.

Her lashes flutter as she responds in her sultry pitch” I am truly well mine own jack, meet me at our special rock later, I require thy service” at this point her vocals turn to a whisper and her sensual lips blow sugary air.

Jack's body stiffens like a work of a bronze monument with his russet complexion and a streak of strawberry dye forms on his cheeks.

He's so tempting to touch; each movement gives away his strength. Those mysterious syrup-colored eyes of his increase as she edges closer and his upper arms swell as the linen shirt nearly shreds around the girth of them.

The diction from his beautiful kisser says in a raspy vocal “Very well mine own petal, before the travelling lamp recedes, I shalt join you” his strong forefinger skims her hallmark spot on her cheek and her eyes close to feel the warmth that freely transfers from him.

With her sweet lips she replies “Later my love”

He answers “Yes, dear” as their fingers brush and his orbs follow her curvaceous shape, his tongue practically hangs out as she glides along

Mrs. Inge Lange with a displeased stare calls for her daughter “Red, receive a move on, father awaits our arrival” a pleat forges as it hoods her ravines and an irate accent materializes

Red capers towards her matriarch and says “Aye, momma” as her basket dangles on her forearm with the freshly baked scones inside and the flavour whorls up her nasal pocket.

This subtle savor of dough evokes remembrances of her beloved Nona, who unfortunately lost her battle against the Beelzebub in the depth of Dekker Forest.

Wherefore Nona hath decided to set up home there is beyond mine own comprehension.

I miss her so much.

Her mother yells, seizing her from her memories, “Red, keep up father shall want his grub and why would thee associate with such an amorous knave,”

Red's face screws into a grimace as she retorts, “I befall to like his company mother and who art thee to talk we are but paupers “

Mrs Lange swivels to face her and inflicts such a blow to her skin it leaves an imprint as she says in an incensed vocal “How dare thee speak to me in that tone, young mistress thy father shall hear about this”

Teardrops flux on her outer layer like in Spring when the soil gets a good soakage from a nimbus cloud and her skin urticate on the area of the strike

In a quivering murmur she says, “I shalt have to sooth this at which hour I arrive at home or it shall bruise

mother shall regret laying her hand on me, mark my word, malevolent old fool”

A vindictive rage surges within as Red travels towards her dwelling, still sensing the irritation on her cheek and villainy ensnared within her mind.

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