Fairly Grimm Tales Ch. 1

                   Ch. 1 Confidential



         The chains held his wrists tight, they were stained and rusted with blood. Memories flashed through his mind. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf,” children sang. They poked and prodded him, he lashed out, but was never big enough to do anything. He had six brothers, all big, strong, but he was the runt. So what he lacked in size, he made up for in anger. So many times he’d been pushed to the edge, so many times an animalistic fury took over, so many times blood stained his hands. That’s why he was here.

         A loud hissing filled the room as vents opened on the ceiling. A strange gas poured into the room. Wolf strained against the chains, blood flowed down his arms. He could smell it, and the blood of many others. He could feel his muscles gather as anger grew inside him. He could hear screams from down the hall, so many others, just like him, how many more were here at Epsilon Academy?

         “Repunzel, Repunzel, let down your hair,” a girl said, pulling on the golden strands. She held back tears. “What, still sad you don’t have a prince charming to save you,” another mocked. Three years she endured that hell, Epsilon Academy was her escape, much better than the alternative. Suicide wasn’t looking so bad now, Repunzel thought, not like it would matter either way.

         She sat in a steel chair, metal restraints held her arms and legs. She was surrounded by a sea of gold. The hair closest to her was vibrant and bright, the farthest was dull and pale. Hidden machines whirred behind stainless steel walls as large Tesla coils rose from the ground. Her hair was short now, framing her pail face. Electricity filled the air, it coursed through her body. Her golden locks grew longer, just like every other time, her hair became hard as steel, it gained a life of its own and writhed with the pulse of the electricity. Her screams filled the room.

         The metal slab was smooth, her red cloak fell over the sides. Her arms and legs were strapped to the corners. A cloth, stained with tears of blood, covered milky-white eyes. Short brown hair surrounded her porcelain face like a muddy halo. Monstrosities raged through her mind. Claws, fangs, blood. It was the same day her grandmother gave her the cloak, her mind had been filled with nightmares since. Her grandmother had called her, “My own little red riding hood.” She had no idea how right she might have been. The man that saved her from the wolves was a monster himself. He burned out her eyes, scars still crisscrossed her back from the whip, her mind was still broken.

         She felt the helmet placed upon her head, the needles forcing their way into her skull. Red could feel the cold liquid pouring from the needles. She screamed in agony as her body burned. Her heart beat, sweat covered her limbs. The shadows behind her grew, the monsters escaped her mind. Glimmering fangs, bloodied claws, and the room was engulfed in darkness.

         The soldier approached the large oaken door. Painted above it in large, maroon letters, the word “Headmaster”. He raised his hand, sweat beaded beneath his visor, his heart pounded in his ears. He hated doing this, the old man was creepy, nightmare creepy. He knocked on the large doors, the boom echoing off the steel walls. The man had created Epsilon Academy, he was the headmaster. Headmaster Grimm.

         “Enter!” came the voice from inside. The heavy doors swung inward, the soldier, clad in black, crossed the threshold. He saluted the back of the red velvet chair. “And how goes the testing?” asked the old man. The soldier stepped forward, sweating profusely, the heat from the roaring fire was unbearable. He handed three files to the headmaster, his gnarled, bony hands, grasping the edges. “These results are not quite what I expected,” said the old man, “but, just like the others they will be useful to us.” He threw the papers into the orange flame, smiling within the dark recesses of his cloak. Grimm poured himself a glass of maroon wine and waved his hand at the soldier, “You are dismissed.”