My first children’s story The Problem with Mr Woolf – a twisted take on Little Red Riding Hood - was published by Bloomsbury in July 2018 in their anthology Once Upon a Fairytale: The Stories You Were Never Told. It's available to buy from Amazon here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Once-Upon-Fairytale-Stories-Never-ebook/dp/B07DX7765H
Read an extract:
‘I’m not going!’
‘Scarlett!’ said Mum in her I-haven’t-got-time-for-this voice. ‘We always go to Nan’s on Sunday. Think how disappointed she’ll be if you don’t come.’
‘Will he be there?’ said Scarlett rather sulkily.
‘I expect so.’
Scarlett crossed her arms and stayed where she was at the top of the stairs.
‘Honestly, Scarlett,’ said Mum, ‘Mr Woolf is Nan’s, err, special friend. I really don’t understand what the problem is!’
This was quite a silly thing for Mum to say, thought Scarlett. It was pretty obvious what the problem with Mr Woolf was. In fact, Scarlett considered herself something of an expert on the subject as last week she’d written a list with the heading (underlined three times in red pen).
THE PROBLEM WITH MR WOOLF
1. His teeth are too big. And too white – suspiciously white (Scarlett was sure that if she looked at them directly she’d have after-images burnt on her retinas for weeks).
2. He’s always spouting poetry or saying things in other languages (the man seemed determined to use about ten words where two would have done).
3. He listens to the most awful jazz music (the sort that doesn’t have a beginning or an end and sounds like five musicians all playing a different tune at the same time).
4. He never wears socks. (How can you trust someone who hasn’t grasped the basic principles of keeping your feet warm?)
5. He kisses Nan.
She was wondering whether this would be the right time to read the list aloud when Mum said, ‘You are going and that’s that! And I really think you need to get over this dislike of Mr Woolf. He’s always been polite to you and your brother likes him.’
‘Oliver is two,’ said Scarlett. ‘He also likes smearing Nutella on the cat and putting Lego bricks up his nose, so I don’t think we can trust his opinion.’
Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Well, you can’t stay here on your own.’
‘I could stay with Mr Woodman,’ offered Scarlett.
Mr Woodman was their next-door neighbour. He had a Border terrier called Nigel and was good at solving maths problems.
‘Mr Woodman is a busy man, Scarlett,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not going to ask him to babysit you just because Mr Woolf plays jazz records!’
‘But he could help me with my algebra homework,’ said Scarlett in desperation.
Mum frowned. ‘Just put your coat on!’
‘I’m not going!’
‘Scarlett!’ said Mum in her I-haven’t-got-time-for-this voice. ‘We always go to Nan’s on Sunday. Think how disappointed she’ll be if you don’t come.’
‘Will he be there?’ said Scarlett rather sulkily.
‘I expect so.’
Scarlett crossed her arms and stayed where she was at the top of the stairs.
‘Honestly, Scarlett,’ said Mum, ‘Mr Woolf is Nan’s, err, special friend. I really don’t understand what the problem is!’
This was quite a silly thing for Mum to say, thought Scarlett. It was pretty obvious what the problem with Mr Woolf was. In fact, Scarlett considered herself something of an expert on the subject as last week she’d written a list with the heading (underlined three times in red pen).
THE PROBLEM WITH MR WOOLF
1. His teeth are too big. And too white – suspiciously white (Scarlett was sure that if she looked at them directly she’d have after-images burnt on her retinas for weeks).
2. He’s always spouting poetry or saying things in other languages (the man seemed determined to use about ten words where two would have done).
3. He listens to the most awful jazz music (the sort that doesn’t have a beginning or an end and sounds like five musicians all playing a different tune at the same time).
4. He never wears socks. (How can you trust someone who hasn’t grasped the basic principles of keeping your feet warm?)
5. He kisses Nan.
She was wondering whether this would be the right time to read the list aloud when Mum said, ‘You are going and that’s that! And I really think you need to get over this dislike of Mr Woolf. He’s always been polite to you and your brother likes him.’
‘Oliver is two,’ said Scarlett. ‘He also likes smearing Nutella on the cat and putting Lego bricks up his nose, so I don’t think we can trust his opinion.’
Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Well, you can’t stay here on your own.’
‘I could stay with Mr Woodman,’ offered Scarlett.
Mr Woodman was their next-door neighbour. He had a Border terrier called Nigel and was good at solving maths problems.
‘Mr Woodman is a busy man, Scarlett,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not going to ask him to babysit you just because Mr Woolf plays jazz records!’
‘But he could help me with my algebra homework,’ said Scarlett in desperation.
Mum frowned. ‘Just put your coat on!’
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