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I doubt few remember the small round of fairy tales that sprinkled up on Yiffstar a while back, most notably K.M. Hirosaki's The Fox with a Broken Sex Drive. To be fair thats been three years ago. Better late then never.

Path of the Needle

2009 by Eldyran

Once upon a time, in a town very much like yours, lived a teenage boy whose mother forced to wear clothes of iron.

Ellis stared through the rain streaked second story window to the dreary afternoon outside. Past the rusted chain link fence in the backyard, his blue eyes scanned the dark line of twisted oaks below. They followed the small path leading into the dark woods with a small glint of longing. The unbroken canopy swallowed the trail up in darkness. Semitrailers and SUV's roared in the distance below on nearby I-90W, running somewhat parallel to the forbidding trail.

Past the dark woods and its dismal trail lived his grandmother in nearby Seattle. Ellis had known her since he was five, and loved to play in her attic. She had so many antique scarves and dresses in there, some she had since she was five herself, back in the roaring 20 s. And unlike his mother, she didn't care what he put on to play around in.

He watched an arc of blueish lightning cut over the grim forest, toward the Giant Needle where his Grandmother's home lay.

Moments later, a crack of thunder shook the glass in its sill before him, breaking the sixteen year old from his thoughts. He got up from his seat by the sill and walked around his mother's room, bored beyond words. Ellis had been home from school alone now for two hours. His mother, Daria, worked late at a laundromat on Fridays, a second job to put food on the table, and often did not come home until late that evening. As the pling of cold rain bounced off the roof, Ellis thought about going out to one of the nearby basketball courts, then thought better of it.

The older boys would just shove him into the mud again, mash his fine red hair into the muck with hoots and cat calls. Ellis sat down by his mother's dresser, looking into the mirror. He ran his thin fingers over its reflection, both despising and marveling at the delicate bones in his thin cheeks. His nose was small, drawing more attention to his thick, dark eyelashes. His mother forced him to keep his red, wavy hair short, and often chopped it in rough edges to give him a more rugged appearance.

But Daria could only hide his feminine build so much.

She draped his slender shoulders in layers of flannel, assuring him it would keep him warm. Instead when it rained, the wet material weighed down around his frame like a suit of iron. He hated the smell of damp flannel. He hated what he looked like in them.

Ellis looked down and ran his hands over one of his mother's dresser drawers. He opened it gingerly, if half expecting a muted reprisal from downstairs. When none came he pulled out one of his mother's night robes. Equally soft hands glided over the sleek, black material. He buried his nose into it, the flowery scent of his mothers faded lavender perfume exploding behind his closed eyes.

He wished he was in Seattle now, up in his grandmother's attic. She had this old phonograph, and while the vinyl records weren't in all that good of shape, their scratchy overtures really seemed to set his mind at ease. His mind drifted to the gentle crackle of 'Me and the Man in the Moon'. Without realizing it, he found himself swaying to the phantasmal tempo, twirling about in the room with the velvety purple material of the night robe squeezed tight against his narrow chest.

So lost in his own little world, Ellis never heard his mother come home early.

Ellis looked down at the night robe, contemplated throwing it on, until a creak from one of the stairs below made him jump. He froze, a momentary flash of panic stopping his now icy heart. The teen aged boy with iron clothes rushed to stuff the purloined apparel back into its drawer. But it was too late! With a screech of rusty hinges, the bedroom door swung open, revealing the wicked bitch beyond.

"Ellis James Flaherty!" Daria wailed, her long fingernails scraping the dusty wood of the door as it swung, "I warned you!" The cruel mother strode forward on spindly legs, slamming the door shut behind her. Muted slaps of gnarled backhands against fleecy cheeks echoed out into the empty hallway from behind closed doors. Despite repeated reminders of what his father would think if he were still alive, Ellis hid his tears of shame behind blackened eyes.

Ellis weathered his iron discipline and iron clothes, going on the errant belief that once both wore through, he would be with his grandmother once again ...

* * * * *

The next Monday during school lunch hour Ellis wandered about the cafeteria, looking for a place to set his tray. The other boys placed their book bags in the seats next to them as he approached. The girls giggled at his awkward gait and mussed flannel. Both assumed that the patchwork blue and black across his cheeks were intended to match his floppish look. The teachers assumed that the bruises came from older boys during rough housing.

Boys will be Boys after all.

After a while, the gray mush on his cracked plate grew cold, and Ellis grew tired of wandering. Ellis limped though the clatter and chatter around him, finding an almost empty table in the far corner of the crowded lunchroom. As he approached the only one sitting alone there, the sullen boy with raven black hair and threadbare clothes looked up with dark, distrustful eyes.

"Can I sit here?" Ellis asked. There was a long, uncomfortable pause until the other boy gave a half hearted, shallow shrug.

Ellis sat down and pretended not to notice some of the older boys point and jeer amongst themselves. One of them, a bully named Kyle, made kissy motions to the quiet pair. Ellis looked down at his gruel and sighed, before scooping a fork full of congealed gravy into his small mouth. He winced at the taste, but choked it down.

The boy across from him didn't seem to mind the bland, sickening slop. He didn't seem to mind anything actually. Ellis dared a long look up at his partner in social misfortune. He had huge hands‭; the stubby fingers on them almost blunt. Ellis tried not to gawk at his odd shaped skull which came to an peculiar jut at the back. Raven black hair spilled over his ears, as if clumsy parents had hacked at his hair. His face looked pushed forward, forehead sloped at a low angle. His right ear had a small knick taken out of the lobe.

But perhaps the most unusual thing about this mysterious boy was his eyes. What big eyes he had. With dull, yellow irises and deep, dark pupils. Ellis didn't notice his own captivation until those piercing irises speared him with an accusing glare.

"You take picture. Last longer." The look in his eyes sharpened to an annoyed point. His accent seemed far out of place, maybe even out of time for Washington State. The flat speech seemed clipped, maybe from Eastern Europe. Ellis just sat there, dumbstruck at how blunt the other boy was.

"I ... I'm sorry ... I ... I di .. didn't ..."

"You stutter like braying mule. You Americans all alike. Point and laugh at outsiders. But I am no gypsy." The boy shoved his tray forward, gliding across the plastic table with a soft scrape which seemed to echo in the noisy cafeteria. The congealed gravy on his plate didn't even giggle. Ellis felt a hot flush of embarrassment as a couple classmates took notice, and felt bad for his unusual interest in the transfer student.

As Ellis watched the boy shove open the double steel doors to the gray overcast April sky outside, he wished he understood himself more.

* * * * *

"You are straying from God's path, did you know that?" Ellis didn't understand quite what Kyle meant by that, nor did he understand why Kyle had to shove him into the locker room wall. The bully with a blue jeans, green vest coat, and horn rimmed glasses shoved his forearm into Ellis' small Adam's apple. Ellis sputtered, grappled the arm pinning him in place against the locker room wall like one of the butterflies on display in the biology room.

It had been a couple of days since the incident in the lunch room. Ellis didn't think that Kyle had paid much attention, but from the looks of things, whatever happened in there had stirred up a real hornets nest. Among bullies, Kyle wasn't even liked, let alone accepted himself. He had a real unsettling Jesus freak streak about him, one that made others around him nervous. Ellis could only guess to what his home life was like.

"I saw you making eyes at the Slav. I bet you didn't think anyone was watching, did ya?" Ellis couldn't breathe, let alone respond. He gave a pathetic squeak as Kyle leaned in and applied more leverage. Through ragged gasps, Ellis sucked in a sliver of air, touched with a hint of Kyle's scent. Kyle smelled of hand pressed lye and hard, ritualistic scrubbing. He had no hint of body odor at all, and that bothered Ellis in ways he couldn't explain.

"You really like this, don't you, you little sissy?" Kyle snorted, so close to Ellis' face now it ruffled his red hair. Ellis squirmed, felt Kyle's free hand wander down his stomach to cup his crotch. Small tears gathered in the corner of Ellis' eyes. He really didn't like it at all.

An insecure part of him wondered if he was supposed to.

The feeling didn't last long, as the echo of other rowdy boys approached. Kyle seemed hesitant to let go of Ellis, the hand between his legs the last to go. Ellis sucked in a raspy gasp of air and slid down against the mildew splotched concrete wall. By the time Kyle was gone, the other boys found him sniffling alone, hugging his knees.

And as they reminded in chanted jeer: Just like a little girl ...

* * * * *

Overcast shadows draped the entrance to the path. Angry, churning clouds threated to burst once again. They already drenched Ellis a few hours ago, his flannel red and black checkered shirt matted against his pale skin. He sat just a few meters down the path on the side of the mud slicked trail and looked at his backyard in the distance with some marked hesitation. Ellis hated the mud. He hated getting dirty at all. All the others boys made fun at him for it while they wallowed about in standing pools of murky rainwater.

The left side of his cheeks still stung where his mother had slapped him earlier. The commotion in the locker room earlier that day forced the school principal to call Daria and ask to pick up the trouble making student. Daria lost out on a second shift opening at the laundromat from a sick co-worker. With no one to mind the store, Daria's boss threatened to fire her.

Ellis buried his face in his numb hands. It was so cold out, but he didn't want to go back. He felt like he was at a crossroads, lured by the Path of the Needle, or beckoned by the familiar Way of the Pin. He tried to rub the sting out of his mottled cheek.

A sudden crash in the underbrush startled Ellis. He spun around in the mud, but couldn't see anything in the darkness around him. The crooked oak limbs intertwining in the unbroken forest canopy above reminded him of interlocked skeletal fingers. He stopped breathing, wondering if his mother was looking for him. The billowy mist of his last exhale evaporated, disappearing in the chilly air before him. Everything else was still.

Something shot past him off to his right. Something that scurried along the ground on four feet. Something made the few fine hairs on the back of Ellis' neck stand on end.

Ellis heart froze, his muddy legs suddenly weak. Eerie silence followed, the distant roar of I-90W a world away now. His lungs inflated with cold air, making a slow rasp in the ominous quiet. An exhale followed, another billow from thin lips that churned in the dark, still air. He listened to the deceptive silence, but only heard the thunder of his awakened heart thump hard in his burning ears.

It took him a moment to realize something huffed just behind him, the soft pants overshadowed by his own thick, frightened gasps. Ellis turned, unable to discern one shadow from the next. His blood turned to ice. His burning ears seemed to deceive him even now, the rhythmic huffs of the beast smoothing out into something close to Ellis‭' own breathing. Ellis squinted at the murky outline taking shape before him as it moved closer. The hard outline of another boy.

At first Ellis wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything. The other boy seemed to stand up from a crouch, the edges of shadow catching the folds of a ratty black trench coat. As the other boy grew closer, Ellis thought he saw patches of mud and briar marks across the hard lines of his oddly shaped face. A set of sharp yellow eyes floated out of the darkness, the dull look in them banished now.

No. These were the eyes of a predator.

Ellis couldn't move. Though the recognition comforted him somewhat, he felt pinned in place again. Ellis felt so helpless under his intense scrutiny. The boy from the cafeteria stepped close to him, never broke the strange hypnotic gaze. Ellis­' legs shook, his lower lip quivered. In what he could not tell. Fear. Awe. Longing.

The other boy's eyes narrowed for a lingering moment. Ellis stood there, shaking like one of the oak leaves in a strong wind, lungs hitching with hapless fear. The exchange student gave short, deep sniffs at the air between them, and Ellis flinched at the unexpected move. The other boy seemed to smile at this, until he noticed the dark bruise spreading across Ellis‭' swollen cheek. He reached out with his stubby fingers and ran the back of his hairy knuckles gently over it.

Ellis' breath caught at the tender touch, but before he could say something, the other boy turned and headed further down the path. The boy in iron clothes stood there for a second, still caught up in whatever had rooted him to the spot. Ellis blinked, touched the tender bruise on his cheek, and then followed after him.

Ellis didn't know how long he followed behind the nameless boy. It might have been an hour. It might have been only a minute. The wind picked up as they topped a high ridge‭; a shrill howl that whistled through the skeletal fingers above them. Ellis stopped as he spied the fabled Needle through a break in the canopy. Framed by silvery steel towers, churning thunderheads, and oak branches, the Needle looked like a tower straight out of a fairly tale.­

The other boy heard the wet slurps of his follower's footsteps cease and turned his head to look behind. He too stopped at the wide eyed longing in those deep blue eyes. It took Ellis a moment to realize the other boy had come back to stand next to him, admiring the mystical cityscape in the far distance.

"You run away too?" The mysterious boy asked, shoving his stubby mud covered hands into the deep pockets of his stolen trench. He never turned to acknowledge Ellis' expression. Ellis gave a wispy sigh and flopped down on a small boulder beside them.

"I ... I just dunno ... ya know?" He wiped his tired eyes with the backs of his thin hands. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know where I'm going." The strange boy seemed moved somehow with this confession, and slid down next to Ellis on the boulder, shoulders touching. Ellis felt comforted somehow by this in ways he couldn't explain. His companion in misfortune said nothing, and instead just gave a subtle nod.

They sat there for a while, listening to the sweep of wind over the semi-exposed ridge. Ellis broke the comfortable silence off abruptly, still staring off toward the tower.

"Kyle said I was straying from God's Path." The other boy looked at him sideways, not sure what Ellis meant. Ellis continued on regardless. "But I don't know where I'm supposed to be headed. And I don't mean here and now, I mean everything."

The other boy looked back to the Needle standing in the distance. He didn't know what it meant for the fairer boy, but to him it meant Change. And he was no stranger to changes. It was the sole reason behind his family's decision to send him to America. The sole reason he decided to run away even now.

"It all just feels so ... wrong.­" Ellis looked down at his mud slicked pants, to the checkered material of his flannel, eyes draining of their vibrant blue hue. "These clothes. These ..." Ellis stopped there, looking at the palms of his upturned hands. Small tears formed at the corner of his eyes at the sight of dry, callousing skin. They were starting to look like boy's hands.

"Do you ever feel like ..." He paused, eyes misting as they looked to his new companion, "... like you don't belong in your own skin?"

The mystery boy just nodded, saying nothing as he looked down the Path of the Needle.

His quiet strength soothed Ellis' tears, and the boy in iron clothes sat in awe at the boy with iron will. Ellis felt an odd stirring, his longing for That Hideous Strength driving him to do the unthinkable. He reached up with stranger's hands and cupped the other boy's far cheek, guiding their lips together.

If the other boy felt shock or repulsion, Ellis couldn't feel it through the heated kiss. When the exchange student didn't pull away, Ellis­' lips moved, feeling more alive now then they ever did before. His heart fluttered at the sensation of their mouths pressed together, heated exhales mingling from a set of flared nostrils grazing each other. His first kiss was clumsy, but Ellis couldn't think of anything else right now.

Ellis left hand ran up the other boy's chest, felt the developing pectorals there jump ever so slightly at his exploring touch. It brought Ellis a flush of confusion feelings, each swirling about in his numb mind. He felt another longing, an instinctual need he could not quite grasp, but the cocktail of hormones inside him led the way.

For the first time in his life, Ellis felt he was moving down the right Path.

He broke the kiss long enough to pull the trench off the other boy, before laying it before the boulder. The quiet boy didn't seem to mind, and instead just watched him with calculating yellow eyes. Ellis wondered were he had come from, wondered if he was used to this sort of thing from another boy. Without asking, Ellis unbuttoned his soggy flannel and peeled it off himself. His small nipples burned in the chilly air. The other boy seemed to breathe heavier, the look in his eyes growing more feral now.

Ellis pulled him down to the ground on top of the tench, the other boy atop him now. His feminine hands curled up underneath the other boy's sweater, and in one swift motion, pulled it over and off his head. One of Ellis­' hands gently cupped the small of his back, and with little resistance, pulled down the other boy against himself.

As their naked chests touched, their taught nipples rubbed against one another, sending shudders through them both. Ellis' other hand cupped the back of his companion's pointed skull, drew his head down until their hot lips found each other again. The nameless boy draped his baggy sweater over top them both, and under it, they rubbed against each other building a much welcomed heat. Ellis gasped at the rush of blurring, melding sensations and feelings, groaning out when the other boy's stubby hands drifted down his slender chest to cup between his legs.

He shuddered, squirmed against the firm grope, feeling a delicious submissive feeling that slowly drove him mad. It felt nothing like the helpless feeling he had with Kyle. No, this made him feel right inside. More right than he had ever felt before. Ellis‭' breath caught as the other boy's sharp fingernails grazed down the thick denim of his crotch to the sensitive cleft past his balls. His sphincter clenched at the exquisite sensation, his mind swimming now with some vague need.

Ellis wanted him. Inside of him. Something so hard and so strong and so sure.

Ellis­' gasps did not fall on deaf ears. The other boy listen to them, seemed spurred on by them. The budding musculature of his teen body flexed hard as he arched against Ellis‭' thigh. Denim trapped erections ground against each other. Despite the Northwestern spring chill around them, the mingled heat of their desire built under the sweater covering them. After only a few minutes of this heated romp, sweat began to break across their flushed brows. Their chests slid against each other, slick with musky perspiration.

Despite his introverted nature, it was Ellisa's fingers that first felt their way to the other boy's fly. The exchange student broke the kiss long enough to give a questioning look to him, before his blunt fingers too undid Ellis‭' pants. It took a while for them to strip off their pants and boxers under their makeshift blanket, their clumsiness only rivaled by their unspoken nervousness. Their naked, sweat slicked bodies slipped against each other, each revealing in the feeling of naked, full on contact.

With little experience to guide them, they squirmed against each other. Hands grasped at whatever they could at the time‭; hard lengths trapped between them, a sweaty backside, a taught stomach. Eventually Ellis guided the other boy's cock head down past the cleft of his ass, letting his lover's sweat slicked shaft rub against his flexing bud. A couple of shallow thrusts later, Ellis could bear no more, and slipped a free hand in between them to place his companion's cock head at his tight entrance.

The other boy looked at him as Ellis wrapped a pair of moist thighs around his waist, ankles hooked behind his back. The gentle pressure of the other boy's weight was almost enough to spread Ellis‭' pucker with his cock head. They laid there in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm not gay." Ellis blurted out.

There was a pause as the other boy contemplated the unsure look swimming in Ellis­' blue eyes. Ellis wondered if his shaky admission insulted the other boy. Ellis didn't know anything about him, let alone his name. Despite the paradox of the situation, the boy from the former Eastern Bloc wasn't angry.

"It is ... okay." He said flatly, before pushing himself into Ellis.

Ellis tensed at the sudden flare of pain at the initial entry, a sharp hiss whistling between his teeth. The boy re-adjusted himself, pulled out gently, then slid back in. Ellis groaned and threw back his head into the trench underneath him, arms tightening around his lover's strong torso. Their pace was cautious at first, unsure in their first time. When Ellis reached up to touch the other boy's right ear, he faltered in his thrust for a moment, before pushing Ellis' curious touch back down.

Whatever caused the knick must had been a painful memory.

After a while Ellis relaxed some, soft moans escaping his lips as the other boy's thrusts deepened. The other boy's length appeared then disappeared inside him in hypnotic rhythm. Ellis didn't know what part of him the other boy rubbed against inside, all he knew was with each thrust his pleasure built, seemingly without limit. He looked past the drips of sweat between their bodies, watched in ecstasy as his own shaft slapped hard against his stomach with each successive thrust. Ellis‭' eyes narrowed when a delicious itch crept inside his prostate, his inside starting to clench up into a tight lump.

His hands latched onto the other boys arms as he let out a load, unexpected groan. He didn't know what was happening, and through slitted, half closed eyes, was surprised to see a sudden spurt of cum explode from his cock slit. It almost nailed him on the chin. Another molten gush pooled on his hairless belly, his insides tightening even more around the hard length buried inside of him. The other boy went rigid as well, a sudden warmth flooding Ellis‭' tightness.

It was over in just a few fleeting minutes, the afterglow almost anti-climatic in a way.

Ellis gave out a long sigh and the tight grip on his lover relaxed. The other boy nuzzled his cheek against Ellis‭' sweat soaked chest, panting heavily. They laid there like that for some time, intertwined with each other, till the other boy got up abruptly.‭ He slid out of Ellis with a soft slurp, and without saying anything, got dressed. Ellis blinked up at the purple spot of dusk peeking through the dark canopy above, then got to his shaky feet and dressed as well. A comforting gush leaked from his sore insides.

But it was a good ache. A sure ache. One that would steer him right in the long, difficult years ahead.

"Who ... are you?" The boy in iron clothes finally asked, feeling the oppressive weight of his flannel lightening after the last liberating act.

"My family ... they call me Bozu ..." The other boy's head hung slightly, as if ashamed. Ellis didn't quite understand, but didn't want to press the other boy. He had been the only one who seemed capable of sympathizing with the conflict, the confusion swirling inside Ellis.‭

"If you are running away from them, then where will you go­?" Ellis asked softly, looking up to the Full Moon rising in the darkening sky to the West.

"Far from here. Where? Do not know." The other boy looked back toward the ominous forest. "You come with?" Ellis gave him a soft hug.

"I'm going to see my grandmother, who lives in Seattle." Bozu didn't seem hurt, just surprised at Ellis' sudden confidence. He hugged Ellis, kissing him on the bruised cheek warmly. Even if their immediate fates were not intertwined, he wished the fairer boy well.

"Then, do svyazee." Bozu smiled, before frowning and bounding back off into the dark forest just as quickly as he appeared.

Ellis watched the night swallow Bozu,­ who took another, less traveled path. He looked up to the Full Moon for a moment before continuing down the Path of the Needle.

* * * Ten Years Later * * *

Ellen hopped back up to the wet curb as a taxi rushed past, its hissing tires sending a small wave of dirty water cresting over the overflowing gutter. It washed over her bright red high heels, small bits of urban runoff catching on the material of her pantyhose. She took a moment to adjust the red hood keeping the late night shower out of her red hair, then bent down a bit to sweep the runny sludge off her slender legs. Ellen absently tucked her billowy locks back into her cloak before looking back up to the signal above the intersection.

Sure enough it was still red.

Ellen wasn't angry at the cabbie for almost running her down. While this wasn't the red light district per say, this Seattle neighborhood wasnt like Capitol Hill. She hated walking this far from late night karaoke at Changes, but at 2am on a weekday, most of the cabbies were fighting over the few out of towners who wanted cushy rides back to their plush hotels. Everyone was struggling to make ends meet now, and she was no exception.

Sure she had her day job answering phones and working the front desk for a legal firm in Ballard, but that wasn't always enough to make both rent and medical bills each month. Ellen was just glad that her bosses didn't fire after learning about the surgery almost eight years ago. Even though Seattle might be considered a progressive city by most standards, discrimination was still a norm, not the exception.

She found a odd night job working as a bartender and occasional host for karaoke night, and although the up front pay was bad, the tips made up for it. While Ellen herself tried to stay out of the limelight, she found herself well known and liked among the local GBLT scene. It wasn't a grand life, but after the turmoil of running away, all Ellen wanted was a small slice of contentment.

As she passed a lone drifter under the drizzle, she drew her cloak closer to her on instinct. Since the operation and hormone therapy she felt a bit more physically vulnerable, her body slimming in certain key spots, widening in other. Despite the added frailty to her already slender build, since her pivotal meet with Bozu, Ellen found a strong sense of self in that revealing act of passion.

She no longer felt a stranger in her own skin. But in understanding herself more, she felt more isolated from others. Those like the drifter. They passed under the glow of a street light, two strangers crossing paths for a fleeting moment, their fates divergent. Or so it seemed.

Gaping holes perforated the drifter's trench, held together with threadbare stitches. His stolen sneakers had seen too much walking, shoes and souls worn thin. Under the blinding florescence, his greasy raven black hair glistened in the rain. His nostrils flared abruptly as he passed her, catching a somehow familiar scent. The drifter slowed, then turned to watch the girl with bright red hair and cloak disappear down the urban path. After a moment, his beat up sneakers followed her distant footsteps from afar.

Under the umbrella lights of 45th St, Ellen splashed gingerly through the small currents flowing down the dark streets like an urban gazelle, using her hood to shield her face from the rain. She ended up cutting through some yards to cross back over a break in the street and save time. She knew it was dangerous this late at night, but the wrong parts of Seattle seemed to dead end at the worst possible times, and her grandmother was probably already worried about her.

A few intersections later she turned on Baker, the sight of her grandmother's apartment complex coming into view now. Only a few window along its weatherbeaten exterior were lit up this late at night; the neighbor deathly quiet aside from the muffled hum of distant traffic on Interstate 5.

Ellen stepped into the entranceway of the complex, sheltered now from the constant fall of rain. Unknown to her as she checked her cubic mailbox, the drifter watched from across the street, under the deep shadows of trees in Ross playground. She pulled out a key from a small red purse, and with a soft click that echoed about the small entranceway, unlocked the front door. Ellen slipped inside and closed the secure glass door behind her. The drifter watched on, pondering his next move.

Inside Ellen climbed the stairs to the second floor, the thick carpet softening the steps of her high heels. She opened the door to 212 and slipped inside the dark apartment. Ever since her grandmother lost her house, Ellen helped take care of her now. It was the least she could do after all that her grandmother had done.

Ellen closed the door, slumped against it in the darkness, and dropped her keys off on the kitchen counter next to her with an exhausted sigh. She hated thinking of that time, after she had run away but before the courts could give custody to her grandmother. At least the beatings had stopped. Her grandmother had been so understanding, even supported her through the tough decision to go through with the surgery, and feel more complete.

"Gram?" Ellen called out softly, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

She could hear her grandmother's old black and white set from behind one of the two bedroom doors, the voice of the late night talk show host question rising and falling with a vague murmur. Ellen pulled off her high heels and dropped them by the door mat, before walking past the kitchen closet to the hallway between their bedrooms. It wasn't like her grandmother to be up this late watching TV. As Ellen neared her grandmother's bedroom, she noticed flickers of shadow and bright light filter through the doorway, opened just a crack. She went to knock, her delicate knuckles stopping a few centimeters from the wood.

"Gram?" Ellen called out again, but there was no response. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Ellen pushed open the door. She breathed a premature sigh of relief when she thought she saw her grandmother asleep on her bed. The figure wore her grandmother's usual embroidered white nightgown, complete with frilly night cap. Ellen was about to close the door and go to bed when the figure, pretending to be asleep, moved and got up out of bed. Something at the end of a long wooden handle caught the flash of the TV screen and almost blinded her.

It was the blade of an axe.

Ellen gave a half sheik of horror, half choked off with surprise. She fell back through the bedroom doorway, stumbling away from the man dressed up in her grandmother's night ware. He didn't even make a sound as he followed her, gripping the rough wooden handle tight with calloused hands, ready to raise the blade far above his head and split her head in twain. The hideous laughing visage of the late night talk show host reflected off the ax man's horn rimmed glasses. As Ellen scrambled backwards on her ass away from the cross dressing maniac, his stone set jesus freak smile never faltered in the flickering shadows of the hallway.

Kyle knew that God had led him back to the abomination. Yes, there had been times in the past few months were Kyle had started to doubt. Ever since getting laid off the slacking timber industry, he'd fallen on hard times. For a while he found solace in booze. Even whores. When they did not fill the lingering emptiness, incompleteness in him, Kyle dared to put his head in the lion's maw.

There, in the den of iniquity called Changes, God revealed Kyle's true purpose. He almost didn't recognize Ellis, the abomination's disguise nearly perfect. But it was clear what God had sent him into the Lion's Den for.

Ellen screamed as Kyle raised his axe, rolled to the side against the hallway wall as the axeman gave an hearty overhead chop down. The laminate wood floor splintered with an audible crack, the blade buried deep. While Kyle grunted and pried the blade out of the floor, Ellen scrambled to her feet, running back now to the door. Too busy looking behind her to the maniac, Ellen didn't hear the kitchen closet door get kicked open from within. Ellen collided with something frail and thin, and together they spilled into the front door.

In the dim lighting, Ellen could only see bits of her grandmother's naked body bound by reflective bands of duct tape. She righted her grandmother against the door, who gave a tape muffled scream, her senile eyes wide now in imminent horror. Ellen turned to its source, then screamed. She ducked the swung ax on instinct, which buried itself down through the right side of her grandmother's clavicle.

A spray of hot blood, black in the TV's glow, showered Ellen.

Kyle's grin set even harder now as droplets of blood splattered against his lenses. Ellen's grandmother jerked twice, then slumped to the floor in a spreading pool of crimson. While Kyle pulled out his axe from the dying body, Ellen cried out in anguish, throwing a knee up into Kyle's groin. The woodsman grunted, falling to one knee as the girl with a red hood led back down the hallway.

She slammed her bedroom door shut, locked it, before looking around for a phone. She picked up the receiver, stabbed 9-1-1, and after panicking through several rings, screamed in desperation as a recording answered.

"Please hold as we connect you with the next available dispatcher."

An axe blade splintered the door without warning, and Ellen threw down the phone. Another swing nearly chopped through the flimsy wood holding the locking mechanism in place. Without a weapon, without a choice, Ellen ran to her bedroom window, pushed it up as another chop almost broke down the door. She slipped out into the light rain onto the slick fire escape, her hosed feet having little grip on the cold metal.

She didn't even engage the drop down ladder, and instead, jumped down into an open dumpster. In the sordid pile of fetid trash bags, Ellen looked up to see Kyle pull himself through her window and stare down at her with self righteous contempt. In the rain, her grandmother's thin nightgown matted itself against his rough skin.

Ellen pulled herself out of the dumpster and fled down the alleyway, limping as she cut her semi-bare feet against shards of broken and discarded beer bottles. The rattling thunk of the fire escape ladder echoed in the dark alleyway behind her. Despite the twists and turns she made, the woodsman simply followed the trail of bloody feminine foot prints, washing away fast in the light rain.

As she neared the end of the alleyway facing Ross playground, a sudden growl made Ellen slip and fall on her ass into a small flooded puddle. She blinked up into the rain as a black wolf jumped up onto a the roof of a parked car. Under the umbrella glow of an overhead street, the wolf's raven coat shimmered under the rain like a onyx jewel. Ellen wiped away the rain and wet strands of red locks from her blue eyes, catching a glimpse of a sheath between those powerful hind legs.

The wolf hunched, hind legs bunching like compressed steel coils, then leapt off the car towards her, snarling.

Ellen threw up her hands before her, shielding her face from a lunge that never came. Just behind her, the deranged woodsman gave a shriek as something pounced his chest, fangs buried deep in his neck even as he brought the ax up again for the last time. Ellen snapped around in the puddle, her once fine red cloak soaked with mud and urban wash off. She crawled backwards away from the frantic struggle of pink flesh and black fur, listened to Kyle's dying screams gurgle off into nothing.

Tears streamed down Ellen's face, washed away in the rain, despite her mounting hysteria. The black wolf turned to look at her, his yellow piercing eyes freezing Ellen just like they had done so many years ago. The wolf turned with a soft whine, eyes softening despite the frothy bright red coating his muzzle and neck fur. He walked over to the puddle, concerned, and in her daze Ellen reached up to touch the knick in his furry right ear.

Unable to accept Bozu's physical change, Little Red Riding Hood took off into the night and fled in tears, leaving the Black Wolf to howl sadly up to a rain hazed Full Moon.

~ Fin ~

Its been six months since I last posted to Yiffstar, mainly because I finished up the second arc to Nauta Sinneau's Skoon Saga sometime in December of 2008. While I'm currently doing a character piece for Azelis DeLano, I'd love to hear from you, Constant Reader about what you would like to see next from me.

PM's are always welcomed.

• Eldyran