This one was very good I must admit....
It's like what? A more realistic version of the fairytale?

Read this....it's like a fanfiction...I especially like this part... It's uncensored and well..ONE AUTHOR TO HAVE NO SHAME IN WRITING THINGS AS THEY ARE!

It's a part of a short story we have for our cass - English through literature and it's called The company of wolves

Story:

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. [W] 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 s 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, 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 ed the collar of his shirt. [X] 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 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 when 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 the fire, in the fiery wake of her own discarded clothing. The flames danced like dead souls on Walpurgisnacht and the old bones under the bed set up a terrible clattering but she did not pay them any heed. [Y] Carnivore incarnate, only immaculate flesh appeases him.  She will lay his fearful head on her lap and she will pick out the lice from his pelt and perhaps she will put the lice into and eat them, as he will bid her, as she would do in a savage marriage ceremony.  The blizzard will die down.  The blizzard died down, leaving the mountains as randomly covered with snow as if a blind woman had thrown a sheet over them, the upper branches of the forest pines limed, creaking, swollen with the fall.  Snowlight, moonlight, a confusion of paw-prints.  All silent, all still.  Midnight; and the clock strikes. It is Christmas Day, the werewolves' birthday, the door of the solstice stands wide open; let them all sink through.  See! sweet and sound she sleeps in granny's bed, between the paws of the tender wolf.

It gave me an idea...What to do? What to do????