I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll knock your house in.
'Give it your best shot,' Porky said.
The wolf started to attack the door with talons and teeth, but it no longer seemed able to work up the same frenzy that had enabled it to break into the wooden house. The scrambling and scratching got slower and weaker.
'Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,' Porky whispered again.
Then there came a new sound, of claws scratching, not on wood but on brick as the wolf climbed up the outside wall. Porky listened as it dragged itself higher, until he heard claws scratch on the roof. He rushed to get a fire lit in the grate.
The wolf whispered down the chimney.
I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll knock your house in.
'Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,' Porky shouted.
The wolf howled, just once, then was still as the fire took it and burned it to a crispy cinder.
***
Porky stood there for a long time, watching the fire burn until he was sure that the beast had been consumed. Then he went to the door and opened it, looking outside.
Black threads fell from a dark sky and all around the land was laid waste. The straw house had already been scattered to the four winds, and Hammy’s wooden house was beginning to rot down to pulp. Something moved in the ruins. Hammy stood up, shedding bits of splinters, a red weeping ruin where his face had been. Behind him Chop scrambled out of the rotting straw on all fours, his broken back not allowing him to stand upright. They both saw Porky, and started to head towards him.
Little pig, little pig, let us come in.
And they all died happily ever after.
The End
###
And this time, it really is The End.
Thank you for taking the time to read this book, which we here at Fringeworks Ltd hope you enjoyed.
Feel free to find out more about our works at www.fringeworks.co.uk
She writes book reviews at www.terror-tree.co.uk and her personal blog is www.theresa-derwin.co.uk