Hansel And Gretel, The way I see it....

[Arlana_Silverwing]

This is something I've been working on for the past couple of weeks, simply because I was confused about the old Grimm's fairy-tale Hansel and Gretel. So, I decided to write it in first-person, and re-vamp a few things so it made more sense, like, how in the world a house of gingerbread could withstand the weather of a German forest, why Hansel and Gretel seem unable to open a door, and what the devil makes witches so gullible. And why their father was such a push-over. That's a big one, in my mind. Here goes!

Before you start reading what happened to me and my sister, the first thing you should know is that I absolutely hate my life. My life is like the sewage sitting outside your house. It stinks, but it won't go away.

The first thing that set off my horrible existence was the death of my mother. I was ten. My sister was five.

The second was my father's remarriage. I was eleven. Gretel was six.

Those two years my step-mother spent in our house were the absolute worst of my being. The hardest part was keeping Gretel unaware of what she was doing. That was more difficult than it seemed it would be.

Any child can feel hunger pounding in their stomach while watching their parents eat a hearty meal right before them.

Any child can feel the sting of an open blow.

Any brother would want to protect the child. Believe me, I tried. I just didn't try hard enough.

The worst day of these worst years was the day they finally managed to lose us in the woods.

Yes, I say 'finally' because they'd tried to do it before. But, I'd been smart enough to realize what they were trying to do. So I marked the path.

First, I picked off pieces of bark from trees along the way. Any tree with a blank patch would mean the way home. But my step-mother caught on, and after a snippy "Hansel!" and a deprivation of already deprived food, I just switched over to rocks.

Rocks worked wonderfully; Gretel thought we were just playing around in the woods until dark, and I could pick up the rocks as we went back, to have ready for the next day.

But then my step-mother saw my bulging pocket and watched me drop a rock. She almost tore my head off. "Have you no feelings, you little brute?" she'd screamed, "Can you think of nothing more than yourself?"

She said I was being selfish, coming back with Gretel to eat her and my father's food. I angrily barked that it was our food, that she'd ruined our lives, and then a few words I'd picked up from my father.

In response, she shoved me outside, took a stick, and whacked me upside the head for being 'an impertinent little brat'.

She broke my nose and blackened my left eye, and I had to explain to Gretel that I'd been a very clumsy older brother and had fallen down the ladder to our loft-bedroom. She laughed. Good. I wanted her to laugh, to be blissfully unaware of what was happening.

That morning, when they got ready to lose us again (and for the final time), I had nothing in my pockets and my step-mom was making sure I wasn't pulling any bark off of any trees.

It was a good thing, at the time, that she didn't notice the hunk of stale bread in Gretel's little hand.

I'd noticed it sometime later, when we left the familiar path. "Gretel," I whispered, "What's that?"

"Food," she whispered back.

"Can I have some?"

She pressed the hunk in my hand, covering it with her own. Somehow she knew our miserable excuses for parents didn't want her to have anything.

I've always been confused as to why my father married that woman. I'd thought he loved us. It didn't matter anymore; I hated both of them enough to have been an entire army.

Anyway, I broke off a bit of it in my hand, crushing it and making a path of breadcrumbs to follow.

"I thought you wanted to eat it," murmured Gretel.

"I'm using it," I explained, "to go home and get more."

"I don't want to go home." Gretel was on the verge of tears; she knew. She knew what they were trying to do. My heart broke.

"I know you don't. But, if we go home, we can take more food and go....somewhere else."

"Not the woods?" Being lost and alone in the woods was Gretel's worst nightmare. It was mine, too, because it would mean I'd lost Gretel and my step-mom had won.

"No, not the woods. All right?" My thirteen-year-old mind hadn't quite figured out where we would go, but as long as we went somewhere, other than our rotten little house, I was sure we'd both be happy.

We continued to share the bread, Gretel inconspicuously reaching her hand up to take a bite, I breaking my half to mark the way home, until our father, his second wife clinging gleefully to his arm, announced, "I have to go do work now. Stay here until we come for you."

"Stay," emphasized that hag, barking at us like we were dogs, not children.

They both meant "Stay here until you rot away because we purposefully left you there because we're both little...." I tried not to finish that thought. Controlling my tongue was still something I was working on.

Gretel devoured the remainder of the bread; now that the demons were gone, the angels could eat without being beaten. I sat there, in silence, wondering where we would go after this.

The sun wasn't quite ready to set when I rose, took Gretel's hand, and said it was time to go. She wasn't exactly willing to get back, but hunger was now out of control, and I'd promised her food.

We traveled on, not talking or anything. I didn't even say a word until I noticed my path of breadcrumbs was gone.

Gone! Vanished!

I'm embarrassed to say it, but I did yell at a squirrel to put the breadcrumbs back.

We were lost. They'd finally done it. They'd won; we were no longer their problem.

I was speechless, Gretel was sobbing beside me. I searched frantically for the familiar path, hoping the breadcrumbs had lasted long enough for me to recognize where we were. They hadn't. I tried not to let my fear show; I had to be brave for Gretel. If she lost hope in me, life wouldn't be worth living.

"We're lost," she sobbed, over and over. It was heart-wrenching; she was crushed. "We're lost!"

"No, we're not. We're not!" I was saying it to reassure myself more so than Gretel.

Then that horrible messenger of death showed up. The white bird.

Gretel and I both stared at it like it was some sort of alien creature. It was shaped like a raven, but with snow-white feathers and a red beak and legs. It laid one smiling eye on us, appraising us, before crying out and hopping deeper into the woods.

I made the worst mistake of my entire life. I followed it.

There are two things you should know about me. One is that I love my brother, and two is that I hate anyone who tells lies.

I hate my father. He said he loved me.

I hate my step-mom. She said she cared.

But most of all, I hate that woman in the gingerbread house.

We found the cookie house after hours and hours of following this strange white bird. The bird turned around and looked at us, before squawking like a chicken and landing on the chimney of the house.

I was so hungry, I ran forward and tried to eat the whole thing, but Hansel held me back.

"Don't go near it," he said. He looked scared. He never looked scared.

I made him let go. My stomach wanted food, and I was going to get it.

Just as I ran to the gingerbread house, I was stopped by the strong hug of a woman.

She smiled at me, and got down so she was as tall as me. "Please don't eat my house," she said. She was old, like my step-mother, and she had black hair and a pretty smile. She didn't look like a witch.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm just so hungry..."

She hugged me and said, "I can fix that...."

Then she saw Hansel in the woods. She smiled even bigger.

"Hello, there," she called, waving at him, "Are you hungry, too?"

Hansel pointed at me and said, "I just want my sister." He still looked scared.

"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't mind if you both shared a meal and a bed?" She looked at the sun, which almost wasn't there anymore. "It's nearly dark...."

It took Hansel forEVER to come inside the house. He looked nervous as anything. As soon as she shut the door behind us, he got right in between her and me. I don't know why.

The lady was all smiles, all hugs and pats-on-the-back. She seated me and Hansel at one end of her table, and she sat across from us. Her bird squawked again and came over to sit on her shoulder.

After a long time of quiet, she said, "Dinner won't be ready for a little while. Why don't you tell me about yourselves?"

"What do you want to know?" asked Hansel. He sounded like the dog we used to have. The dog, I think his name was Red, would growl and get in front of me, with all his fur sticking up, every time a stranger would pass by our house.

"Your names would be a good start." Her smile was so pretty; I loved it. I wanted my smile to be so beautiful.

"I'm Hansel," Hansel began, "and this is my sister..."

"Gretel," I finished for him.

"Hansel and Gretel. How nice to meet you!" She was still smiling.

"What's yours?" I asked. I wanted to know all about this wonderful lady who'd let us in her house and said the word 'dinner'.

"My name is Rhionne, darling."

"Thank you for taking us in, Mrs. Rhionne," said Hansel.

"Miss Rhionne, sweet boy."

'Sweet'? Ew! Hansel squirmed in his seat. I would have, too, if I was a boy who'd just been called 'sweet'.

"Thank you, Miss Rhionne," he said again. I think he was trying to forget the part where she'd called him 'sweet'.

"You're very welcome, dear."

Dear. That one was all right, I guess.

"Dinner's almost ready, my darlings," announced Rhionne, "Will you help me lay the table?"

I jumped up, ready to help. Hansel got up slowly, keeping his one black eye on me in case I bashed my head against a cabinet or something. I've done that before. It hurts.

"Oh, dear, what happened to you?" Rhionne's voice sounded scared; her hands grabbed Hansel's face. He scrunched his nose, I guess in pain, as she looked at his black eye.

"He fell down the ladder this morning," I giggled.

"Hmm...." Rhionne didn't believe me. I don't know why; Hansel had said that's what happened. "What really happened? Your nose, it looks...."

"Broken," said Hansel, "It's broken. And I did fall down the ladder."

"Oh," said Rhionne. She looked to me, then back at Hansel. "Oh, I see. Well..." she sighed, "I suppose I'll fix whatever the 'ladder' did to you...." She waved her hand....

...and my brother's face got better. No more purple bruises around his eye, no more red and puffy nose. I was amazed. He looked confused.

"Wow!" I shouted, "That's great!"

She smiled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm glad I did that. You're such a handsome boy; I'd hate to have left your nose broken like that."

"Thank you," he whispered. I don't think he believed she made him better.

"You're very welcome, Hansel." She touched his face very softly, then turned to me. "Who wants to help me get dinner?"

"I do! I do!" She was such a nice person; she just let us in her house, made my brother all better, and now she was going to give us dinner!

I got out what she told me to: bowls for soup, spoons, glasses...Hansel had to get the stuff that was up high, because he's tall. He's as tall as my father, almost. Rhionne was buzzing around the kitchen, bringing out one thing after another: a pot of stew, a basket of bread, some meat, some cheese...it was more food than I'd seen in my entire life!

When we all sat down, Rhionne smiled and said we could eat.

I ate like a pig. I just ate and ate and ate and ate. My plate was never empty. All I'd had to eat that week was the piece of stale bread in the forest that morning. Hansel had had even less; he'd used his half to get us lost.

Rhionne just watched us, not eating anything, just watching. She must've liked Hansel a lot; she mostly looked at him and asked if he wanted anything else. I guessed, at the time, that he looked like someone she knew a long time ago, since she was kind of old, and all.

She never let our glasses or our plates be empty. She walked around us, smiling, helping, patting shoulders or touching foreheads.

For once in my life, I loved someone besides my brother.

You like? There's a ton more, and it keeps changing perspectives. Feel free to tear it to bits, if you like...

[Veryan]

Yay!! *claps madly* The awesome story of awesomeness is here!

I have already done my tearing, so I don't feel the need to repeat it! Great job, Wingo!

[Arlana_Silverwing]

Thanks, Ver. Here's some more to chomp at!

That meal we shared with the witch is the only thing I don’t regret. After all, Gretel was fed.

We sat there with Rhionne for hours, I guessed, just eating and talking and being looked at.

The thing that bothers me the most was how sincere she seemed. She didn’t look much older than forty; her face had some wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but she didn’t have any grey hair. In fact, she looked kind of like my mother.

Maybe that’s why I hate her so much.

“So, Hansel, Gretel,” began Rhionne, “What were you two doing out in the woods?”

I looked down. I had found out that Gretel knew, and it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Rhionne looked towards me, obviously realizing it was a sort-of touchy subject.

“Our parents were trying to lose us in the woods,” stated Gretel. She reached for another piece of bread; she didn’t seem even the least bit wounded by this at all. It was almost as if she’d expected to be abandoned. That was a scary thought; that all my efforts of keeping her innocence were a complete waste.

“Oh, that’s awful,” breathed Rhionne. “And, were you trying to get back?”

“I don’t know,” answered Gretel, “Ask Hansel.”

Rhionne’s eyes, they were an intense shade of green, looked towards me. I balked, not knowing what to say. So, I just shrugged my shoulders.

Rhionne took that as a sufficient enough answer; she let the matter drop and filled my glass with more sweet ale.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in my ear, “Does Gretel know everything about the situation?”

I shrugged my shoulders again. I really didn’t know; she’d known more than I’d have liked her to about why our parents had led us into the woods.

Rhionne gave a sympathetic smile and patted Gretel’s golden hair; her bird gave an excited squawk and sat on my head, looking at me with bright black eyes.

“Now,” announced Rhionne, “Who will help me clean up?”

Gretel shot out of her chair faster than she’d ever done back home when it was time to clean dishes. I scooped up my own plate and cup, meandering into Rhionne’s kitchen.

Gretel had pulled over a stool and was excitedly putting soap into Rhionne’s basin. Rhionne had her sleeves rolled up and was pumping water into the sink, waiting for me to arrive with the dishes.

I grabbed as many as I could carry, balancing the stack with my chin, and dropped them into the basin. I turned to go back for more, and noticed her kitchen had only three walls.

The fourth was taken up by the singularly most enormous oven I’d ever seen.

“Woah,” was all that came out. I’d stopped dead in my tracks.

Rhionne raised an eyebrow in my direction, using the hem of her dress to dry off a plate. “Well?”

“That’s huge.”

Rhionne laughed at me, picking up another dish to dry. “How else does one prepare a cookie big enough to be a wall of a gingerbread house? You don’t think I made individual cookies and slapped them all together, did you?”

“It’s really made of gingerbread?” Gretel’s eyes were big, staring in wonder at this lady with the big oven.

“Well, yes and no,” answered Rhionne, “You see, there’s a frame that supports the gingerbread, that’s the actual house. And the gingerbread is on the outside, to make the house look nice, you see?”

“Oh,” replied Gretel, and she turned back to washing dishes. I, however, was mesmerized by the gigantic cooking device.

I didn’t see Rhionne give a tiny little smile, one corner of her mouth lifting in anticipation. Gretel did, however, and told me later, much later, when everything was all over.

I guess I have a very strong inside alarm system; everything about this oven was giving me the shivers.

The dishes were washed, whatever food that remained was set away, and all that remained was to escape the creepy kitchen and its over-sized oven.

Rhionne took me and Gretel to her front parlor, by the fireplace, and got out a game of chess.

“It’s been so long since I had a visitor,” she informed us, “I’ve never had two at once before…would you play with me?”

“Sure!” cried Gretel, rushing to sit with her.

I didn’t want to point out that Gretel had no idea how to play chess (neither did I, for that matter) because she was having so much fun; I didn’t want to spoil it.

Mercifully, Rhionne didn’t play a game of chess, or teach Gretel how to play, but picked up the pieces, named them all, and began moving them around while speaking in different voices, like they were puppets. Gretel joined in immediately, and to this day I have never seen her laugh so hard.

“Oh, no,” wailed Rhionne’s black queen, “I do believe your bishop has a higher hat than mine!”

“Why, so he does!” cried Gretel, imitating Rhionne.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to knock him off, what!” announced the jealous game piece. Rhionne used the butt end of her piece to knock the poor bishop somewhere.

“I say,” protested Gretel’s king, “You can’t just kill my bishop! Take that!” She knocked Rhionne’s black bishop off, too, and both of them erupted into the giggles.

I laughed, too, though I was trying to keep a straight face. It was just so funny, I had to laugh.

A hungry gleam lit up Rhionne’s green eyes as she watched me laugh. She licked her lips, and then turned to discuss the white queen dancing on top her black knight’s head.

If there is one thing I’m sure about, it’s that Rhionne was exactly how I remembered my mom.

The way she smiled, and shook her hair, and stared at Hansel made me remember my mother. That’s why I hate her most of everyone. She was just a big, evil liar.

We played with the chess pieces for a long time. I laughed so hard I snorted, like a little pig, and that made me laugh harder. We laughed and laughed and kept laughing, right up until she sent us to bed.

Before we went to get ready for bed, Rhionne brought out a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk, and we ate those all up. We laughed while we ate them, too, laughing at Hansel’s weird way of eating cookies. He turns the cookie over in his glass until the whole thing is soggy with milk, and then he eats it. It’s so strange; it always makes me laugh. It made Rhionne laugh, too, and it made her eyes sparkle.

Then it was time to get ready to go to sleep. Rhionne showed me the one spare bedroom, with only one bed. I looked at it, and then at her. “Where’s Hansel going to sleep?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Rhionne said as she combed his hair with her fingers, “But this is the only inside bed I have, and I think you’re too tall for the sofa; it’d give you cramps.” She smiled here, very happy about something. “But, I do have a loft-bed in the barn. Would you mind very much if you slept out there?”

Hansel smiled back at her, his special, crooked smile, and said, “No, that’s fine.”

He always said everything was fine. He was such a good brother; I love him so much.

“Good. And it is comfortable; I’ve just put a new feather-bed on it. All right?”

“All right.”

She smiled and patted his head, then left us alone to rinse our teeth and get undressed.

I rinsed my mouth out with water in the washroom, pulling on the pretty nightgown Rhionne had given me. It felt soft and swished when I moved; I really liked it.

Hansel just pulled off his shirt, like he always did; he only wore his pants to bed.

Hansel, not Rhionne, tucked me in. Rhionne stood by the doorway, just looking at us and smiling.

“Are you all right, Gretel?” was the first thing he said.

“Sure,” I said back, hopping into the little bed.

He smiled, his special, crooked smile, and I saw that he was still just a kid. He was five years older, a big teenager, but he looked scared, like he didn’t know what was going to happen next.

He leaned down at kissed my forehead. “No matter what happens,” he whispered as he pulled the covers in tightly around me, “I will always be there to protect you.”

I looked deep into his eyes. They were bright blue, a pretty color. My eyes were dirt-brown. I didn’t think it was fair. We should both have blue eyes, or he should have brown, since we were brother and sister. Brothers and sisters were supposed to look like each other, weren’t they? Hansel and I didn’t look anything like each other; he had really dark black hair, I had yellow. His hair was curly, mine was straight.

But, he was really my brother, and I loved him. I knew he would keep his promise to protect me, so I kissed his cheek and whispered, “I know.”

Then we hugged.

That was the last time I saw him, without the witch, until the day we escaped Rhionne.

“Good night, Gretel,” said Rhionne, and she blew out my light and closed the door, keeping one hand on Hansel’s shoulder.

“Good night, Hansel. Good night, Rhionne,” I called out, and then I fell asleep.

[Veryan]

I like the improvements that you made, Wingo!

Gretel sounds more like an innocent eight-year-old (and she is adorable) and you changed some of the wording. Me likes.

You get an A fer yer Awesome jerb!

[Arlana_Silverwing]

Well, fank 'ee!!

Rhionne led me through her house by the light of one candle, explaining how she was so sorry to separate us, after all we’d been through, but that we’d see each other in the morning, and then we’d talk about something that’d crossed her mind.

She was such a good liar.

We left the house through the kitchen’s back-door, walking across a wet patch of grass. The moonlight was very bright; I saw the outline of a smoke-house, and the huge shadow of her barn. The barn, in particular, gave me the creeps, just like her oven.

“Here we are, my sweet,” announced Rhionne, closing the great door behind me.

At that strategic point, the candle she was holding went out.

“Oh, blast,” I heard her mutter, and then I was shoved violently from behind. I tumbled forward, trying to regain my balance, and slammed right into iron bars.

“Oh, no,” I breathed, “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no!” I turned around as fast as I could and lunged, just to ram my face into more bars.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” came Rhionne’s voice, not sounding at all sorry.

A bright flash of light lit up a small bit of the barn, coming from her closed fist. Her face was sneering at me, all tenderness and sympathy gone.

I was in a cage, a small cage she’d hoisted up by a chain so I was hanging a good ten feet from the barn floor. She was just smiling up at me. Smiling!

I let all hell loose from my mouth. It was not one of my proudest moments; I was cussing her out like my father cussed at the sun after a night’s drunken stupor. I had never stooped so low before. I said some things I didn’t even know I knew.

She endured it all, still smiling. When I’d run out of breath, and profanities, she put her hands on her hips and said, “My heavens, Hansel, where did you learn so many dirty words? Are you quite finished?”

“NO, YOU LITTLE………………”

My voice just stopped. It was like a knife had been drawn against my throat; my mouth kept moving, but no sound was coming out. Her green eyes were glowing in the small light coming from her fist, like a cat’s, and she smiled at me again.

“Much better,” she purred. I felt like my head was going to explode with anger.

“You haven’t even asked why I do this,” she stated, kind-of matter-of-factly.

I was silent as a dead man, but I mouthed ‘I didn’t think anyone would be such a…’ I’ll leave out that last part. Sorry.

“I do this because you supply my magic. Did you know that the flesh of little boys increases the magical capability of witches, such as me?” She flashed her white teeth at me, continuing with, “You’re a bit older than I usually get, but that makes you sweeter so, you know, my love?”

I gaped at her, mouthing ‘HOW DARE YOU!’

She waved her hand at me like she was shooing a pest. “The magic of little boys is even more potent if they are….of suitable size, my dear, if you get my meaning.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared long and hard at me; I was embarrassed to be shirtless for one moment of my life. “You’re so thin, my darling. Thankfully that meal we had will help to fatten you up, but you’ve a long way to go before I can make anything suitable out of you.” She sighed, obviously disappointed. “I suppose the rest will just be up to me.”

I hope she didn’t think me stupid enough to ready myself for my death, because I was NOT going to.

“Sleep well, my child,” she saluted, flashing the most evil grin I’d seen so far, “See you in the morning.”

Even without my voice, I managed to mouth out my true feelings for the witch. I could tell she was a fantastic lip-reader; her face went as red as a beet. It didn’t stay long that way, though, for another smile lit up her motherly face.

“You’re fearful handsome when you get mad, did you know that?” She licked her lips, adding, “I’ve never consumed a little boy as….striking as you are, my sweet.”

I’ve never been called handsome by anyone before, but the way she said it, I never want to be called handsome again. It’d bring back the hungry smile, the flashing of her green eyes as she appraised me.

“I wonder if it increases your magic.” I couldn’t answer her, and didn’t want to, so she hadn’t made it a question.

“Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t. But, you can be sure I can’t wait to find out.”

She left me then, shutting the great door with an enormous ‘clang!’ Her fist-light went with her, and I was left in almost complete darkness, except for the moon beams coming in through the barn window.

I sat there, swinging gently from the chain, my hands and face pressed against the bars.

My first thought was of Gretel. Would Rhionne eat her, too?

My second was of me, because I was going to die.

I don’t think it had sunk in just yet, the fact that I was going to be fattened, like a calf or a pig, and then roasted in that monster’s oven or stewed in her enormous cauldron-pot, or however she cooked her victims, and then eaten by that…….fill in the blank.

It grew cold in the barn, like my rapidly sinking heart. My forehead started to stick to the bars of my hanging cage, and, I’m so embarrassed to say it, I started to cry.

I haven’t cried since three years ago when my mom died, and my dad had taken a long swig out of his bottle, wiped at his eyes, and barked, “Stop sniveling, boy.” But, hanging in a cage with death on my doorstep and Gretel’s safety beyond it, I collapsed. Everything I’d stowed away since my father’s remarriage erupted in one huge burst of despair; I wept like the child I was.

“Oh, stop that driveling,” complained a fat voice from the darkness. It wasn’t Rhionne’s, and it obviously wasn’t mine, as I couldn’t speak and I wasn’t fat, either.

“Who’s there?” I mouthed. Only silence came out.

The cage next to mine rocked and gave an enormous creak. I saw a round form outlined in the scant moonlight, grumbling to itself.

“Can’t get any sleep at all, what with you sobbing like a spineless baby.”

I cursed at him, unheard of course, but my despair was rapidly replaced with anger, and a lot of it.

The voice yawned sleepily and smacked its lips together. “Good dinner tonight. What’s your name?”

“Hansel,” I said automatically; I wasn’t used to being completely mute.

“Oh, no, I’m stuck with a mute, aren’t I? All these months with just her and her food,” the voice smacked its lips again, “And now, now when there’s someone else, he’s got no spine at all and can’t even talk. Just my luck.”

The form rolled over, its cage groaning from its weight. In the faint moonlight streaming in from the windows, I saw how fat he was.

It was disgusting, seeing him and knowing I was destined to become like that. I threw up; all the food Rhionne had shoved down my throat left me as I hurled in sheer horror.

Calling me a spineless baby wasn’t at all encouraging, and my anger evaporated as despair crept back in. I wiped the bile from my mouth and continued to sob, silently, as my chain gently swung me back and forth.

Sorry it's only Hansel this time; this was a particularly long one. Gretel'll come soon enough!

[Invader Tenn]

Vereh good! I loves it!

[Veryan]

*dances* That last was much better, Wingo!

Hansel has a potty mouth!

[Arlana_Silverwing]

My eyes just popped right open as sunlight came in through my window. I threw off the blankets, swung my legs over, and wished I had some socks. Her floor was freezing.

I ran down the hall, looking for Hansel or Rhionne or something to eat. I tried the kitchen first, as two of the things I wanted to find would probably be in there.

I saw Rhionne stirring a large pot of something that smelled good. Her hair was pinned up in a pretty roll; it looked like my mother’s on important days or days when her hair would get in the way.

“Good morning, Gretel,” said Rhionne with a great big smile, “Are you hungry?”

I nodded so fast I thought my head would fly off. She laughed, scooped a bit of porridge into a little bowl, and sat down with me to eat.

“Tuesdays are my chore days, my dear,” she said, taking a sip out of her cup of tea, “Would you like to help me?”

“Yes!” I wanted to do anything, so long as it was with her.

“Oh, thank you so much!” She took another drink and said, “Hansel’s already started. He said he’d fix some loose boards on the loft in the barn.”

That sounded like my brother. If something was broken, he’d fix it. My step-mother would always just complain that nobody was doing anything, and my father was too busy drinking out of his little leather bottle to fix anything. I hated that bottle. It made him hit me.

“He’s a very sweet boy,” continued Rhionne “Is he a good brother to you?”

“Oh, yes!” I nodded my head just as fast as I had when Rhionne asked if I was hungry.

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it. You know, I’ve always heard that brothers and sisters are mean to each other. But, you say he’s nice to you?”

I nodded, but I didn’t think ‘nice’ was the right word to use. Hansel treated me like he was my father, not my big brother, and I loved him more than I loved my dad.

Rhionne smiled again, leaning forward to talk to me. “Gretel, do you want to go back home?”

My eyes got really big. I didn’t want to go back there! I would get called names, and get hit, or watch as Hansel got hit for me. I wouldn’t be allowed to do anything I liked, and I would probably sit and cry the whole day while my step-mother just yelled at me. I didn’t want to go back there. Going back would almost be worse than dying.

Rhionne looked very sad, and said, “I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. But, I think I can make it better. How about you two stay here with me in the forest? Would you like that?”

I ran around the table to give her a hug and pressed my face into her. She hugged me back, wrapping her arms around me, and I felt like my mom was back from the dead. I hugged her for a long time, and wished that Hansel was done with his chores so he could share in the hug, too.

“Yes,” I whispered to her, still hugging.

“Me too,” said Rhionne, “I would like that very much.”

That morning we spent doing chores was wonderful. I got to mop the floors with her (and splash each other with the soapy bubbles), and I got to make a whole lot of gingerbread; enough to make a whole new wall on her house!

“My east wall is a bit moldy,” she explained, “Do you think you can put all the candies back on it after lunch?”

“Yes!” It sounded like so much fun; I really wanted to do it.

“Good. Hansel’s out working on something else right now; I’ll see if he wants to help you, all right?”

“Great!”

It took both of us to push the tray full of gingerbread into her huge oven. I didn’t think a cookie would be so heavy! When it was finally inside the oven, we both leaned against the door and sighed.

“Well done, Gretel,” said Rhionne, a little out of breath from moving the big cookie, “You’re such a wonderful helper!”

I grinned from ear-to-ear; in all my life, I’d never heard somebody say so many nice things about me.

“Now, while it’s baking, can you make some lunch all by yourself?”

I was pretty sure I could; I’d made food before back at my old house. I nodded, and she said, “Wonderful! Now, I’ll just go out to the barn and check on Hansel, all right?”
“All right,” I answered, and with another smile, she was gone.

I woke up to sunlight drifting through the bars of my cage. I had a bunch of red marks from where the cage had pressed into me; my back looked like Rhionne’s chess board. My cheeks were all salty with dried tears, and where I’d thrown up last night stank like hell.

The boy in the cage beside me was snoring, drooling, too, and as I couldn’t wake him up, or speak to him, or want to speak to him, I just let him sit there, and turned to look out of the barn-loft’s window.

I had a plain view of the kitchen, complete with the monstrous oven, from the window in the barn, not that it would do any good. It would only remind me of where I was headed, according to Rhionne.

I was determined not to end up in there, and as such put my growling stomach as far back in my mind as I could. Filling it meant killing me, and, if I died, who would be there for Gretel? No one I’d want taking care of her, not my father, or step-mother, or that……… who’d locked me in here. I had to stay alive as long as possible, to buy Gretel time to escape.

“What?” stirred the round boy. He pushed himself up with his arms so he could roll over and look at me.

My face went as white as a sheet.

Not only was this boy horrifyingly fat, his eyes were completely green. He didn’t have whites, or pupils, just two beady specks of green set in his chubby face. I felt like hurling, if there was anything left to hurl.

“What’re you staring at?” he sneered. By his voice, I could tell he was about two or three years younger than me, and it was sickening.

I scooted to the farthest corner of my cage, trying to get away from his solid-color eyes.

“Flighty as a rabbit, aren’t you? Huh! You act like you’ve never seen another boy before.”

“None like you.” I mouthed sarcastically.

He didn’t get my words, but he did understand my face. “No back-talking here! She don’t stand for it, and neither will I!”

I guessed the ‘she’ meant Rhionne, whose eyes were the same shade of green as his.

“I want you to be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

Behave? I looked at him, completely confused. Who cared about behaving when we were both just inches away from death?

“Hah! That sapped the snap right out of you, didn’t it?” He seemed proud of himself, folding his meaty hands behind his head and laying back down, as if he was sitting on a sofa, not in a cage. “Nice place here, isn’t it? Was this your first night here?”

He wasn’t being sarcastic; I could tell by the way he smiled and looked around the room as if it were a palace, not a drafty barn turned dungeon. Then it hit me like a sack of bricks.

He was seeing what he wanted to see. He wanted to see a nice, roomy mansion with a lovely lady catering to him and a boy who obeyed his every command, not a cage which barely contained his blubbery body with a witch who was planning on eating him and an older boy who thought he was the dumbest fool on the face of the earth. Rhionne had done it to him, most likely. Then why hadn’t she done it to me?

I couldn’t ask him how or why she’d done it, and he didn’t live long enough for me to find out, anyway.

“My name’s Dierdrick,” he mumbled, “What’s yours?”

“Hansel,” I mouthed, hoping he could lip-read.

He couldn’t. “Herman? Your name’s Herman? Oh, I’m sorry…”

I shook my head, mouthing. “Hansel. Han-sel.”

“Nice to meet you too, Herman.”

I rolled my eyes at him, and he became extremely offended.

“Oh, my greeting isn’t good enough for you, is that it?” He pinched his moon-face, his completely green eyes narrowing in anger.

I huffed at him, pointed to the door, then to my throat, trying to say ‘the witch took my voice.’ Then, I shook my head, tapping my throat, for ‘I can’t speak.’

“What, you’ve got a cough, Mr. Snot?” grunted Dierdrick.

I clapped my hand to my forehead in exasperation. This fool was completely hopeless!

“Well, Mr. Too-Sick-to-be-Polite, I’m going to try and get some more sleep.” He stretched his arms out as far as he could, complete with a fat yawn, and shooed at me as if I could go somewhere else. “You do what you like. But, when I wake up, I expect an apology.”
I was suddenly struck with the thought that, when he did wake up, he’d be inside Rhionne’s stomach. Did he know that? Could I warn him?

I tried charades again, and got my cage to creak so he’d turn around and look. I pointed to the door, drew a finger across my throat, and then pointed to him, trying to tell him that the witch was going to kill him.

“Want to kill me, do you? You know, you’re a nasty little whelp! I ought to tell on you! What sort of trash is she letting in here anyway?” He was threatening me as a child his age would, and I decided it was no use. He wouldn’t let me save him.

At that moment, Rhionne entered the barn.

She was the last person in the world I wanted to see.

Both of us lunged for her; Dierdrick was looking for food and I was looking to tear her head clean off.

“Rhionne!” called Dierdrick, clapping his fat hands together. They jiggled. It was gross.

“LET ME OUT!!” I shouted, pitifully silent, “LEAVE ME AND MY SISTER ALONE, YOU….” I fired off another round of my cuss-word collection. She just looked at me, crossed her arms over her chest, and smiled sweetly.

“I think I prefer you silenced. Yes, I think I do…” She said this almost in a whisper, with a hungry smile crawling on to her face, “I think I’ll like you even more when you’re silenced for good.”

That remark set me back a little, fear rapidly replacing anger.

((Sorry, this Hansel edition isn't all the way typed up yet. I just posted what I had))

[Veryan]

Awesome! I love the improvements you've made!

The contrast between Hansel's and Gretel's narratives is excellent. They're polar opposites, which will give Rhionne's betrayal all the more sting for Gretel.

You have a knack for writing as a child, I must say. It's much better than I would be able to do. And quite dark, too. But there can't be light without dark, as you've said yourself.

[Arlana_Silverwing]

Ah, yes, no light without the dark....

Thanks. I added about three or four more pages to what I had written down in my notebook. I always write better if I have something to improve upon!

[Veryan]

As all good writers should. How could you ever possibly hope to improve if you thought yourself perfect? (I know you don't, and I certainly don't either).

I personally enjoy ripping my work to shreds and then building it back up again. I can be sound in general plot, but incredibly sloppy with details and finesse. Especially large group scenes; they are my particular enemy. Battles? Yes. Large group conversations? No. I have so much I need to improve upon.

But I can't wait to read more of your stuff! Your style flows very well, and me likes it a lot!

[Arlana_Silverwing]

Hokay, so, here's the rest of what I have typed up. There's much more, it's just in a notebook. Have no fear, the Gretel section will be edited. It's just so much easier to write as Hansel....

Even if the anger I felt was enough to set the world on fire, there was little I could do while locked behind bars, set away like a calf to be fattened.

I didn’t break my gaze, but Rhionne knew I was afraid of her. I could tell she knew; her mouth curved upwards in a tiny little smile of horrible self-satisfaction. That was enough to ignite my fury; I set off another round of my arsenal, trying to use words she hadn’t seen come from my mouth.

Rhionne purposefully turned from me, looking instead to my prison-mate. “Dierdrick,” she called out.

“Yes?” Dierdrick was so horrifyingly glad to see her, it was sickening. I stared at him in disbelief and disgust; how could that (insert a word here which rhymes with her occupation) make him so happy to die? That was lower than most demons stooped, I was almost positive.

“I’m so sorry I missed your breakfast time, my dear….”
The scary thing was, she looked sorry, like she’d been robbing him of the greatest thing in the world, being able to make his big belly even fatter.

“I know,” he whined; it was enough to make my insides writhe. “Why?” His bottom lip was sticking out in a ridiculous, spoiled little pout. My face had to be beyond shocked.

“I was….distracted, my sweet.” Here a very meaningful smile was pointed at me.

My eyes opened even wider as I threw myself against the bars. “GRETEL!”

“Oh, stop it with the dramatics, Hansel. Your sister is perfectly safe. A great deal safer than you are, my boy.”

I clutched the bars of my cage and squeezed my eyes shut in relief. Gretel was still all right. She wasn’t in a position as hopeless as I was. She could escape.

Dierdrick grunted, a pathetic attempt at getting all attention back on him, making sure Rhionne wouldn’t bother with anyone until his appetite was satisfied and his stomach bulged out even farther than it did now.

She smiled, a hungry, shark-like smile, turning on all of her false, sympathetic, motherly charms and saying, “I’m so sorry, Dierdrick, my darling. How does an earlier, bigger lunch sound?”

He clapped his hands and squealed in delight.

I turned my face away in repulsion, still grasping the bars of my cage door. I squeezed till my hands went white at the knuckles, imagining that they were Rhionne’s neck.

“A bigger lunch it is, then.” Rhionne smiled a monstrously fake sweet smile, turning her witch’s gaze to me. “That’ll be for you too, Hansel.” She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me in that eerie, terrifying way. “You need all the help you can get.”

“What about me?” complained Dierdrick.

“What about you, eh?” Rhionne laughed, turning that butcher’s eye to his plump frame. “You, my sweet, are right where I want you.”

Dierdrick smiled like that was a compliment.

“In fact,” here she licked her lips, “You are exactly where I want you. I don’t see why we can’t get on with it after your lunch.”

“Get on with what?” her entrée questioned. He had to be the stupidest fool I’d ever met, and I’d met quite a few.

I knew what she wanted to ‘get on with’. I turned my back, biting my lip in withheld screams. I wasn’t exactly afraid, more frustrated than scared. I’d have rather had my true sight taken away than be held here, speechless, and therefore helpless. I could have saved him. I could have saved myself.

“Your lunch will be out in a few short moments, my little ones.” She smiled right at me, her green eyes boring into my skinny, broken soul. “Please excuse me.”

“Hurry back!” called Dierdrick, impatiently. Impatiently! It seemed like he really wanted her to kill him! At least, that’s what it seemed like to me. Who knows what he thought he was seeing?

“Oh, I will,” promised Rhionne. She turned over one shoulder and just stared in my direction, my blue eyes caught by her emerald ones. “I will.”

Lunch was harder to make than I thought.

It didn’t look hard, but the pots were heavy, and the stove was too tall, and I had to stir it with the bread knife, because I couldn’t find anything else.

I was standing on a chair, so I could reach what I was stirring, and picked up the knife for a taste-check.

It tasted good, I thought. I wasn’t able to make a lot, just enough for me and Rhionne and Hansel. That’s all I wanted to make, anyway, since they were the only ones who were going to be eating with me.

I felt the hot air behind me from Rhionne’s oven; the gingerbread inside smelled so good. I wanted to just have a tiny little bite, but I had to make lunch, and I didn’t know what Rhionne would say.

I turned back to the big pot of soup, trying to forget about gingerbread. I really didn’t want Rhionne to get mad at me. That would be horrible. My step-mom got mad at me all the time, and sometimes she hit me or made my father hit me. I didn’t want Rhionne to hit me. It’d be the same as my old house, which scared me a lot.

I heard the door open and Rhionne walk into the kitchen. She paused, sniffed a minute, and smiled her really big, pretty smile. “Gretel, my child, your soup smells delicious!”

I hopped off of the chair I’d been standing on and ran to her, hugging her and then looking around for my brother. “Where’s Hansel?”

“He’s not done yet, my dear.” She stroked my hair with one hand, holding my face with her other. “I’m going to bring him some lunch later.”

“Oh. Okay!” That sounded a lot like Hansel. Back at our old house, whenever he had work to do, he wouldn’t stop till he was all done. He told me to do that, too, so that way we wouldn’t get hit as much. I guess he was just used to working till he was finished, because he didn’t stop his job in Rhionne’s barn to come inside.

“Well, then, let’s have some lunch!”

I smiled and ran to the stove, where my soup was cooking. Rhionne helped me pick up the heavy pot and carry it to the table, and then get out spoons and stuff to set the table with. When we were all done with that, she poured some soup into the bowls, and we ate together.

[Veryan]

Yaaaaaaayyyy!! The darkest, most awesome fairy tale is back!

I'm so glad you posted more, because I really really like this story, and it's been awhile since I read it.

I love how you can transition between Hansel and Gretel so easily. They have very different voices and yet you switch back and forth like it's second-nature. It was verah good!

[IndagoFeather]

Ah I started reading out of curiosity and I'm sure glad I did. From what I've read of Hansel and Gretel as a child this is certainly a lot darker than the fairytale I remember. All the little gritty details accounted for, the witch has grown a brain is actually quite cunning. Rather than a third person view you've told it through both the childrens' heads and narrate it flawlessly. The two contrast each other so well both in personality and the moods they're currently set in, it gives the story a nice feel, you never get bored of it. You've added quite a bit of spark to the classic tale and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Here I was hoping I had peeked into this topic late enough to see it to the end but much to my dismay, it's not finished yet. Can't wait for the rest!

Kind of funny, I can't help but keep thinking of this asian ball-jointed doll I own while I read this, his name's Hansel von Diedrick. xD

[Invader Tenn]

Yaaaaaaay! I LOVES the Hansel and Gretel!

and that's a really weird conincidence that you named your doll with two of the names in this story, Indago.