Sweet Revenge

1.

It was a bitter, cold night. The bark of the trees in the Cursed Forest twisted this way and that, like long thick stems of black licorice. Their tops, although not top-heavy with leaves, curved downward. It was called the Cursed Forest, based on the fact it was devoid of all life. Not a single green leaf or a green slip of grass ever grew. The Cursed Forest was no place for a child, yet two little kids, a boy and a girl, tried the best they could to keep warm. 

Two twigs lay on the ground in front of them as a witness of their failure to start a fire. The boy and girl huddled together, rubbing their hands to produce some form of heat. The boy, a pudgy one for his age, wished to be back home under the covers in his rickety bed. The girl, who was rather skinny for her age, wished to be back home standing next to the warm kitchen furnace. If only they knew where home was. Being in the Cursed Woods during the night was terrible; being lost in the Cursed Woods was even worse. 

“S-s-s-s-sitter,” the boy cried, “Wha-wha-when will it be sunny come out again?”

“I-I-I don’t know, brother,” the girl said. “Just stay in there. We, we, we will survive.” 

The girl wished it were true, but minute by minute, it began to fade away. 

The boy began to sniff. To the girl’s shock, however, the boy wasn’t crying. His nose was pointed to the air. 

“You smell that sister?” he asked as his stomach began to growl. “It smells like…” 

2.

Sweets, candies, and pastries flooded into Hän Schimmer’s mind. The smell was so entrancing he didn’t see his chisel fall to the ground. The taste of gingerbread men, gumdrops, donFauellas, and candy canes brushed against his tongue. Häns took a step back in shock. It was like he actually ate these things before when he knew for a fact he never did. His father never allowed sweets, and the very mention of dessert made him and his sister, Gretel, lose their appetites. 

For some reason, Häns stood behind his workbench entirely intoxicated by the smell of sweets and the sudden hunger to rival a whole army of starving men. He shook his head to shake the fumes away. Work would have to be placed on hold for the moment. He needed to know where that smell was coming from. He hung his apron on the rack and took a step outside. He followed his nose to… 

3.

A large house made entirely out of gingerbread, completely took the little boy and girl by complete surprise. 

 “This can’t be real!” the girl was too amazed to notice her brother running towards the house. A white fence blocked his tracks. His arms moved up and down the white planks. To his sister’s shock, the boy sniffed and took a monstrous bite out of it! 

“It’s okay,” he’s said, forgetting to chew with his mouth closed. “It’s white chocolate, have a taste!”

The girl walked sheepishly to the fence. She almost leaned in to take a bite before stopping herself. 

“No!” she said, “It’s wrong, we just can’t eat somebody’s property.” 

“Oh, come on, sister,” the brother complained, still eating large chunks of the fence. “If it wasn’t meant to be eaten, they would have made it out of normal things like bricks and stuff.” 

The girl eyed the white chocolate fence hungrily. She pressed her hand against her chin. She was drooling, something her mother always told her was a nasty thing to do, especially at the dinner table. She then glanced at the path made of gumdrops, then at the house made entirely out of gingerbread, chocolate, and every type of candy she had ever seen. Her stomach cried out in a sharp pain.. She had to eat something, she just had to!

Giving in to temptation, the girl dug into the white chocolate fence along with her brother. Like termites chewing through wood, the two children chewed straight through. The boy went for the house itself while the girl ripped into the gumdrops. 

The little boy and the little girl never had so much fun in their lives. Then the door to the house opened. 

4.

“Well? Aren’t you going to come inside, young man?” 

Häns blinked. He realized he had been staring at the display window, which showed many freshly baked triple layer cakes. 

He looked up to see Mrs. Agatha, a woman well in years with delicate blues, stood in the doorway. She ran the bakery with her husband, Mr. Olaf since Häns could remember. The skin on her arms was loose, almost sagging to her waist. 

“No, actually,” Häns explained. “I was working, and I smelled something good, so I thought I would stop on by to see what it was.” 

The woman giggled with teeth as white as marshmallows. 

“Well, you made it this far, why not come inside for a look?” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” he said, afraid to offend her. The absolute last thing he wanted to tell her was that his stomach couldn’t stand the sight of sweets. Although to his surprise, he was still looking at the cakes with a ravenous hunger like he never experienced before. 

“I’m backed up with orders this week at the shop. So, I’m really busy.” he lied. 

“Well… wait here,” she said as she walked back into the store. 

A couple seconds later, the lady returned with a small sack. 

“Here take this,” she said, handing it to him. The sack was so small and soft, Häns feared his giant hands would squish the contents inside. He opened it up to see two figures made of gingerbread, a boy and a girl, resting close to each other. Häns looked at them with a confused look. The fresh warm smell entered his nostrils, his mouth began to water.   

“Oh, thank you,” he closed the bag and looked back at her. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile, “It’s for free.” 

“Thank you,” Häns never was the one to turn down a free gift. “Well, have a good day.”

“You too now, dear. Say hello, to your sister for me!” 

“Will do!”

5.

Häns never released his grip on the bag. For some reason, it felt comfortably familiar, like holding a worn teddy bear from his childhood. If that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. He could feel a certain coldness in the air, the kind one feels before a rainstorm unleashes its wrath on the people below. Except when Häns looked up to the sky, only to see the sun still shining without a cloud in sight. 

“Get over yourself, Häns,” he muttered, “It’s nothing.” 

He looked back at the bag and then to all the people passing him by. Were they staring at him? He gave the men a polite wave, but none of them seemed pleased with this gesture. Not The elderly women, on the other hand, simply smiled and waved.

What’s going on? He thought. He had no time to think of his neighbor’s queer behavior when he realized the smell from the bag became stronger, or was that just his imagination? He tried covering his nose, but the enchanting fragrance of the gingerbread men was simply too overpowering. It was then he realized that it wasn’t the bag that felt oddly familiar, but it was the smell coming from the treats inside! 

It was if he remembered eating gingerbread before, but how could that be? He never ate a single dessert in his life. 

“Hello there, little one.”

Häns turned around. 

An old lady with a crooked nose smiled at him. She was so ugly that Häns found it hard to keep his eyes open enough to look at her. Her teeth were yellow and few in number. A wart with a white hair sticking out stood prominently on her broad chin. 

“Are you lost?” she asked. 

“Yes ma’am, we are,” said a small voice from behind him. 

Häns turned around again to see a thin little girl in a raggedy dress look up at the old crone with fudge smeared all over her cheeks. 

“Me and my brother were left in the woods all alone by our evil mother,” the girl explained, “We left bread crumbs so we could find our way back, but the animals had already eaten it.” 

“Oh, my poor dearies, you must be starving, please come inside!” said the old hag with great concern in her voice. 

A door appeared behind her. She opened it, letting out a warm ray of out nearly blinding Has. He felt the little girl tap him on his back.

He turned around, expecting to see the little girl again only to see his sister Gretel with her face as white as a sheet. 

“Brother, what are you doing?” she asked.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, worried. He looked over his shoulder to see the old crone, and the door disappeared, just like the little girl had. 

“You better come quick, it’s father. It’s urgent!” 

Without another word, Häns followed his sister back to the Carpentry Shop, all the while he couldn’t shake the images of the old crone and the little girl out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

6.

Häns couldn’t believe nor did he want to. Gretel removed the white sheet to reveal their father sitting in his chair, dead. A layer of foam ran from his open mouth. His course looked out with lifeless doll-like eyes. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Gretel replied, her voice quivering. She was on the verge of tears, but she convinced herself she was too strong for that. Tears meant emotions. She witnessed many young women in the street, allowing themselves to be vulnerable to manipulation just because they were emotional. 

“I left for the market to prepare for tonight’s meal,” she explained. “He was alive sitting in his chair like always, and you were in the shop. I come back home, he’s dead, and you’re nowhere in sight.” 

“But I wasn’t gone that long,” Häns said, still trying to make sense of it all. “I talked to Mrs. Agatha…” 

“The Sweets Shop?” his sister’s eyebrows raised. “But brother, you can’t stand the sight of candies. Remember that one Weihnachten feast where you excused yourself to your quarters because of the site of fygy pudding?” 

“Ja, and you did the same soon after.” 

“Guess we were born to hate sweets.” 

“Maybe,” Häns said with a finger on his. “Or maybe because it’s something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I went to the candy shop, I didn’t feel sick. In fact, I almost wanted to try every single cake in the window. The lady gave me some gingerbread men, and the smell was so delicious I wanted to eat them right then and there!”

“Gingerbread men?” Gretel looked at the bag suspiciously. 

“Ja, have a look for yourself.”

Gretel couldn’t take her eyes off the small sack on the ground. Closing her eyes, expecting to feel faint, she opened it. She cracked her eyes open only to feel surprised by the sight of a happy gingerbread couple staring back at her with enormous red smiles. She didn’t feel sick at all. In fact, she felt hungry, hungry enough to reach out and take one.

7.

“NO!” 

Something hot and sharp hit Gretel’s hand.

“Bad girl!”

“Excuse me!” Gretel shouted only to gasp in realization her voice didn’t sound quite right. Her voice sounded like… she was a little girl again. 

Again her hands were slapped with a wave of unbearable pain. 

“Good little girls should respect their elders. Hmmmm? Very rude to talk back, very rude indeed! That’s it, no supper for you tonight!”

Gretel took a step back in horror of the most revolting woman she had ever laid eyes on. The nasty woman circled Gretel like a vulture ready for the kill. As the woman prodded around her, Gretel couldn’t help but notice how the bright brown walls smelled like gingerbread and how they looked like they could be knocked down with a simple push.

“Honestly, why can’t you be more like your brother?” the crone wined. 

“What are you doing to my brother?” Gretel shouted before being stabbed by the hag’s cane. 

“Hush up!” the lady growled. “Why can’t you be more like your brother? So polite, so well mannered, and such a…”

The lady chuckled before giving out a moan that made Gretel uncomfortable. The lady didn’t seem to be in any pain, quite the opposite. 

“Healthy eater!” she continued, “Never have I seen such an appetite. The way his lips envelope such large portions. It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of and more!”

“You nasty, evil, vile, nasty old woman!” Gretel barked.

8.

“Gretel, snap out of it!” Häns begged. Her eyes weren’t looking at him. They were looking past him. 

“You leave my brother alone!” his sister yelled before jumping back and giving a loud cry of pain.

What was going on? Was she having the same visions he had on the street? He snatched the bag of gingerbread. What if a hex was placed on this bag? It had to have been hexed. There was no other explanation of why they were suffering through these delusions. 

He pushed the body of his father aside and threw the bag outside the window. 

There he thought It’s over. If that was true, then why did he feel uneasy. He looked at the corpse of his dead father, hoping it would come back to life and tell him everything was alright. But it didn’t. The body remained motionless, sitting with a hunch and pointing to a book lying directly on the floor in front of it. The book was his father’s brown journal. He saw his father write in from time to time.

Häns bent his knees and picked it up. Right, when he did, he could have sworn he saw their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Schvitzal, standing across the street staring right at him with a sickening grin.

9.

Gretel woke up, dazed and exhausted. At first, she feared she was still trapped in the house of gingerbread with that hideous woman, only to be relieved to see she was in her bedroom. Sunlight poured from the windows. Was it all a dream? Was she really stuck in a house with a madwoman? How long was she out? Her mind weighed heavy with so many questions, she didn’t have the strength to lift herself up.  

Suddenly, Gretel heard a knock on the front door below. 

“Häns, we know you’re in there!” said a chorus of elderly women. “We’ve baked some delicious cakes for you!”

Her bedroom door flung forward. 

“Gretle, come on, we have to leave this very minute!” Häns shouted. He already had several large bags tied to his back like a pack mule.

She straight with the blankets falling to her waist. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Dad’s journal, here,” he said, throwing the book into her hands. “It explains everything; the visions, our disgust with anything sweet, who killed him, everything.”

Gretel looked at curios. She flipped through pages filled with paragraphs after paragraphs. On the last page, however, there were only three words.

"GET OUT NOW!"

10.

Gretel held her father’s notebook firmly in her hands. It was the only thing she and her brother had to remember him by. The knocks on the front became louder and more frequent.

Häns led her through the back of the shop, hoping to give the ladies outside the slip. He held onto the knob tightly before slowly cracking it open. 

“Why hello there, dear.”

Häns and Gretel jumped with shock. It seemed like all the town’s elderly women knew they were going the back way, each with their own sweets to offer the siblings. 

“Mrs. Machbel,” Häns said nervously, “What brings all you nice women here?”

“Oh, well, we heard about the unfortunate passing of your father, and we thought we would show you our support.” 

“How can that be?” asked Gretel. “We haven’t told anyone about him dying. In fact, he might be alive right now.”

“Don’t try us, darling, word travels quickly in a small town like this,” Mrs. Machbel said with a sign of annoyance in her voice. “Anyway once he heard the news, we knew we needed to comfort Häns.”

Häns gave a sarcastic chuckle. The ladies mistook this and giggled softly amongst themselves. 

Gretel eyed her brother irritated. 

“What do they mean?” she begged him. 

“We killed one of their own.”

“No you didn’t Häns,” Mrs. Macbel. “Gretel’s the one with blood on her hands, not you.”

Gretel was about to interject when she heard the terrifying screams of the burning hag in the furnace. 

“You were the perfect little boy Häns,” Mrs. Macbel said with a sigh. “The coven knew we had to free you from Gretel’s wickedness. It was so hard to find the right time. You, your sister, and your father were so tight-knit.”

“So, that’s why you killed him?” Grettel asked with anger. “To come to kill me?”

“No, we come to save Häns. Come on, little boy, you don’t need this wretched creature taking over your life anymore.”

“How about…” but Häns didn’t finish. Breaking all forms of chivalry and politeness, he kicked Mrs. Macbel to the ground. He grabbed hold of his sister’s hand, and they both ran as fast they could.

It was like the last time they ran away as kids all over again, except now they didn’t leave any breadcrumbs. Never did they want to be found by anyone again. All they had was themselves, and that was good enough.