{"id":497,"date":"2024-05-20T12:00:00","date_gmt":"2024-05-20T12:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/?p=497"},"modified":"2026-07-29T01:06:11","modified_gmt":"2026-07-29T01:06:11","slug":"random-forest-model","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/2024\/05\/20\/random-forest-model\/","title":{"rendered":"RANDOM FOREST MODEL"},"content":{"rendered":"\n



You are LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Your real name is not important. You stand alone at the edge of a deep, dark forest.

> GO HOME.
Don\u2019t be foolish. There is no home to return to. Childhood is a wicker bread-basket clutched in your sweaty palms. You can\u2019t remember Mother\u2019s voice anymore.

> ENTER THE WOODS.

The watchful eyes of birch trees follow you as you tread the well-worn path. Most creatures here wear their hearts inside of their bodies and so you are an oddity to them, clothed in blood-red as you are. But look! another on two legs, no playful rabbit or skittish deer but a man finely dressed in a wolfskin coat. 

> RUN AWAY.
Where would you go? You must get to Grandmother\u2019s house. You are forbidden from straying from the path. This is the only way forward.

> HELLO THERE, MR. WOLF.

The stranger smiles. He calls you beautiful. Yes, you know you are beautiful. You are not yet old enough to know this is dangerous. Look around you, he says. Look at the daylilies, the mourning doves, the sunlight upon the fresh-melted snow. Why not enjoy your youth? Why not linger in the woods?

> BE SILENT.
Good girls hold their tongues. The words come to your mouth unbidden.

> BUT I AM GOING TO GRANDMOTHER\u2019S HOUSE.

His smile grows wider. You\u2019ve never seen so many teeth. Listen, he says. I have a wager. I\u2019ll take the path and you wander to your heart\u2019s content. If you\u2019re right, we\u2019ll have learned a lesson. If I\u2019m right, we can both feast tonight.

> FOLLOW THE PATH.
There are many paths through the woods. Only one will bear you safely home. Perhaps this is the right path. Perhaps not.

> BUT AREN\u2019T YOU CURIOUS?

You bid the man farewell and he takes the path to Grandmother\u2019s house. Surely his mother also made him promise not to stray. The world beyond the path is as wonderful as you feared. The birds tangle themselves in your hair, unused to human footfalls. You take care to pluck the wildflowers without bruising them, but by the time you\u2019ve gathered enough for a bouquet, they\u2019re already beginning to rot. When you finally find the cottage, the door is open.

> SOMETHING ISN\u2019T RIGHT HERE.
Silly girl, it is only your grandmother. Is this not her house, unwavering as the moon in your memory? Is this path not the only way through the bramble-and-blackberry woods? The door swings a little further, taunting you.

> IT IS ONLY YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER.

You step over the threshold. Strawberry jam congeals sickly-sweet in mason jars lining the shelves. A restless fire cools to chalky embers in the hearth. You place the bouquet in a smudged glass vase. Lying rumpled in eiderdown is a familiar face. Speak to the wolf.

> WHY, WHAT BIG EARS YOU HAVE.
The better to hear you with, love.

> WHAT BIG EYES YOU HAVE.
The better to see you with, sweetheart.

> WHAT BIG ARMS YOU HAVE.
The better to hold you with, darling.

> WHAT A BIG MOUTH YOU HAVE.

No matter what you choose, the wolf eats you. Or the story eats you. There isn\u2019t much of a difference.

> IT IS DARK INSIDE THE WOLF.
Darker than the woods, darker than the world after you shut your eyes. Empty as your bedroom mirror before you turn on the light. This, too, feels like home.

> ARE YOU AFRAID?
You were raised at the edge of the woods. You learned which sticks were best for kindling and to watch the horizon for a gathering storm. You learned how to still your breathing so the field-mice would forget your watchful gaze, your hungry mouth. Your mother taught you courage the way a she-wolf spurs her cubs to the hunt. Time and time again, you\u2019ve bitten off more than you can chew. It does nothing to diminish your appetite.

> GNAW YOUR WAY OUT OF THE WOLF.

You sink your teeth into flesh and you are the howl that rips from the hunter\u2019s throat. You tear flank from femur and you are steel-bite of the ax felled upon flesh. Juices dribble down your chin as he tries to remember the human word for mercy. It doesn\u2019t matter, animal as you both are. You eat the wolf and you are the wolf. No swallowing whole, no palatable metaphor. You savor every bite. When you are borne again to the cottage, your grandmother\u2019s blood congeals in glass jars on the shelf. Her bones rest in the fireplace. You are no longer a child.

> THERE ARE MANY PATHS THROUGH THE WOODS.
None of them will bring you home again. 

> YOU ARE STILL HUNGRY.

You unload your wicker basket on Grandmother\u2019s bedspread. Pastries crumble in your hands, crumbs on the counterpane. And here, the finishing touch, a fresh cut of wolf-meat. 
<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You are LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Your real name is not important. You stand alone at the edge of a deep, dark forest.> GO HOME.Don\u2019t be foolish. There is no home to return to. Childhood is a wicker bread-basket clutched in your sweaty palms. You can\u2019t remember Mother\u2019s voice anymore.> ENTER THE WOODS.The watchful eyes […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":94,"featured_media":500,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_eb_attr":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-497","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/497","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/94"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=497"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/497\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":507,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/497\/revisions\/507"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/500"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=497"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=497"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.sccs.swarthmore.edu\/smallcraftwarnings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=497"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}