Hansel and Gretel

The ground is soft and dry. The light bears figures out of the bushes and crowded trees. The air smells like dirt and pinecones. The crumbs drizzle behind us as we walk on. We cannot find the crumbs; all that’s left is our bare feet sinking into the earth that grips our toes, again and again. Trees. Trees. Everywhere. Hansel’s hand in mine. Trees. Trees. Hands. Father left us. Father left us in the woods. In the woods. The woods. The sound of my empty stomach fills the empty air. “Let’s go for a walk. You’ll be fine.” Father left us.  I do not know where we were going or even where we came from. Hansel looks confident and at ease as we begin our walk into the dark woods. Hansel’s hand shakes in mine. A chicken bone replaces Hansel’s hand. Dark eyes infiltrate my vision. A Swan. Dark eyes. Fire. Fire. Fire. And finally the sweet smell of trees.

The house is beautiful- carefully crafted out of assorted sweets that I am sure will fill my mouth with the pleasure it has been forever lacking. I cannot even recall the last time my tongue has touched a morsel of food. Time has no meaning in the woods, a vortex of darkness and intoxicating smells. The aura of sweets stemming from the house battles with the clean air that had suffocated us on our dreadful journey. My mind struggles with the physical intoxication of senses and my memories hunger for past sensations. Into the woods. A horrid woman emerges from the mansion of heavenly desire. She waves us in with a single hand motion, calling for our empty stomachs and heavy hearts. Mother said be careful. Mother said we would be safe. Mother said. I go in, begging for the feel of another human, the maternal care I had been lacking. Hansel and I stand at the point where the shadow of the house and the shadow of the tree converge. Keep track of time. Be careful. Mother said. Mother lied.

As we enter I feel the air hit me. The sweetest smell of all the goods I could have ever imagined infiltrates my lucky nostrils and my greedy hands reach towards them all at once. They are gone in seconds. Hansel and I look at each other with the remains on our shaking lips and fattening chins. As a swallow the last bite, I feel my body go weak as exhaustion tumbles over my bones and the rest of me crumples to the floor. When I wake I see Hansel encased in a crusty and compact cage. As soon as I come to terms with my surroundings, hot blood begins to fill my veins. My heart is racing with pure hatred as I stare into the eyes of what I thought was my savior but transformed into a demon. Her eyes are black, dark and weak, a reflection of my own dark blood and my own evil thoughts that fill me with the most animalistic want for revenge. For days I work for the witch who consistently stuffs Hansel’s face with the sweets I had once desired but now renounce. The fresh smells that once fed my soul now split it apart.  I can see his skin stretch with the intake of the treacherous goods that battle his raging blood. Each day, the witch asks for his hands, to check if he is ready to be eaten by her salivating, greedy and destructive mouth, but each time he holds a thin chicken bone out instead of his own ever-growing fat wrist. On the day she decides to eat him, my raging blood finally reaches my brain and tells it what to do, how to fight, how to win. When she orders me to start a fire in the oven, I play dumb and purposefully fail at my one task, forcing her to take over. The second she steps in front of the oven I listen to my shaking body and push her into the furnace with all my might. Her body is easily lit and taken over by the flames of sin. We run.

We then stumble upon a small brook in the woods. The water sings of sweet relief as we wash our dirty faces clean of the sweet’s treacherous remains. Finally clean, we look up to see a large swan, resting on the water, waiting for us. In that one moment I feel clarity in this nature I had previously lost myself in and climb upon the creatures back with my sister. It carries us gracefully across the water. I capture a small flower that is floating in the waves, hold it in my still shaking hand, and let the water take me home.