An excerpt from The Gingerbread House
Forthcoming in The Clarion Call, volume 4
FAIRYTALE RIOT
Sometimes the only evil in the woods is what you bring with you. When the children grow up, the truth might get you cooked.
Forthcoming in The Clarion Call, volume 4
FAIRYTALE RIOT
Sometimes the only evil in the woods is what you bring with you. When the children grow up, the truth might get you cooked.
Greta knew the poor drunkard would get rid of them if he could pretend that by leaving them in the woods he was punishing them, doing what Magda wanted. She knew this by the misery in his eyes whenever Magda screamed at him, the pain whenever he saw the bruises on Hans.
The sun was already low in the sky, and darkness would come quickly under the trees. Gulping down half a bottle of wine, Fritz made them put on their warmest clothes, even though the year had barely turned. Exchanging glances, Hans and Greta remained silent, following the stumbling man into the woods.
The tiny lights of the village and the smell of wood smoke faded behind them. Through deepening shadows they trudged, damp leaves smothering their footsteps but not the eerie night sounds. Greta kept her eyes fixed firmly on the lantern swinging from the drunkard’s hand, clinging tightly to little Hans as he stumbled along beside her. She could faintly smell pine, with the hint of another clean scent that somehow lightened her heart. She felt Hans tighten his fingers around her hand.
"I smell bread, Greta. And savory stew."
The drunk stopped short, swaying slightly as he turned to them. Suddenly, Greta realized she hadn’t fooled this man at all.
"Yes, you’ll be well cared for, just as long as you never set foot in our village again. You know what Magda will do if you should ever try to come back, so don’t do it. Stay with the lady in white. And if you can, some day, forgive me."
It was the longest, and the kindest speech he had ever given them. Pointing to a faint glimmer of light in what might have been a clearing far ahead and to their left, he turned away. Taking the lantern with him, he stumbled back the way they’d come, leaving them in darkness.
Hans began whimpering. He was tired, and it was growing cold beneath the trees, standing in the damp undergrowth. Greta put her arms around him, for her own comfort as much as for his.
"There’s the light he showed us, Hans, see it? And I can smell the food too. We’ll just follow our stomachs, and we’ll find the gingerbread house. Don’t be scared."
The witch met them halfway, coming through the trees with a lantern on a pole. Dressed in white, to their frightened sight she seemed to be floating toward them, her shape shifting as the lantern swayed above her.
"I saw his lantern. I heard him running away. I felt your fear. Come now, darlings, come into the house. No need for you to be cold and hungry. I have been expecting you for some time now. I am so glad to have you safely back at last."
Hans held Greta’s hand so tightly she thought her fingers might break off. As they reached the clearing, approaching the gleaming snowflake of a house in the midst of it, Hans planted his little feet. Tugging at her, he sobbed in her ear.
"Does she have a switch? Is she going to hurt us?"
"I won’t let her."
The White Lady turned to Greta. Placing a gentle hand beneath Greta’s chin, she lifted her face, gazing into her defiant eyes.
"Good girl. You are on the right path, but I still have much to teach you. I am Myrta, and this is my house. Bring the little one inside."
The sun was already low in the sky, and darkness would come quickly under the trees. Gulping down half a bottle of wine, Fritz made them put on their warmest clothes, even though the year had barely turned. Exchanging glances, Hans and Greta remained silent, following the stumbling man into the woods.
The tiny lights of the village and the smell of wood smoke faded behind them. Through deepening shadows they trudged, damp leaves smothering their footsteps but not the eerie night sounds. Greta kept her eyes fixed firmly on the lantern swinging from the drunkard’s hand, clinging tightly to little Hans as he stumbled along beside her. She could faintly smell pine, with the hint of another clean scent that somehow lightened her heart. She felt Hans tighten his fingers around her hand.
"I smell bread, Greta. And savory stew."
The drunk stopped short, swaying slightly as he turned to them. Suddenly, Greta realized she hadn’t fooled this man at all.
"Yes, you’ll be well cared for, just as long as you never set foot in our village again. You know what Magda will do if you should ever try to come back, so don’t do it. Stay with the lady in white. And if you can, some day, forgive me."
It was the longest, and the kindest speech he had ever given them. Pointing to a faint glimmer of light in what might have been a clearing far ahead and to their left, he turned away. Taking the lantern with him, he stumbled back the way they’d come, leaving them in darkness.
Hans began whimpering. He was tired, and it was growing cold beneath the trees, standing in the damp undergrowth. Greta put her arms around him, for her own comfort as much as for his.
"There’s the light he showed us, Hans, see it? And I can smell the food too. We’ll just follow our stomachs, and we’ll find the gingerbread house. Don’t be scared."
The witch met them halfway, coming through the trees with a lantern on a pole. Dressed in white, to their frightened sight she seemed to be floating toward them, her shape shifting as the lantern swayed above her.
"I saw his lantern. I heard him running away. I felt your fear. Come now, darlings, come into the house. No need for you to be cold and hungry. I have been expecting you for some time now. I am so glad to have you safely back at last."
Hans held Greta’s hand so tightly she thought her fingers might break off. As they reached the clearing, approaching the gleaming snowflake of a house in the midst of it, Hans planted his little feet. Tugging at her, he sobbed in her ear.
"Does she have a switch? Is she going to hurt us?"
"I won’t let her."
The White Lady turned to Greta. Placing a gentle hand beneath Greta’s chin, she lifted her face, gazing into her defiant eyes.
"Good girl. You are on the right path, but I still have much to teach you. I am Myrta, and this is my house. Bring the little one inside."