The Witch's Cottage

*Author's note: This short is based on the folklore of Hansel and Gretel. Their names have been modernized and it reimagines the witch's cottage following the children's return to it many years later.*

The old cottage was tucked away in the hills of the countryside surrounded by flowers that seemed to be in bloom year-round. Guarding the cottage were tall, lush trees that appeared to scratch the surface of the sky. The cobblestone path that led from the dirt road weaving through the hillside was well worn with age. There was a blossoming garden that could not only provide food for the families all around, if there were any, but it scented the air with life. A reminder that this bounty would be everlasting as long as it was cared for. Hunger would no longer prevail. 

During the day, a bright sun shined down on the cottage leaving a halo in the deep blue sky above it as if to say that this place was special. This house appeared to be the center of all warmth, where no harm could pass the boundaries of the stone garden wall along the property. But even as many years had passed, no other houses would be built around it. No one but Margaret and Ian would come near the cottage nestled into the hills in the center of an evergreen sea. On the outside this cottage was beautiful but the inside told a much more sinister story that only the ones who witnessed it would believe. 

 Before Margaret and Ian returned to the cottage where their lives as children were almost cut short, this spot on the earth was cold and depraved. A reflection of the evil that can exist in the world. Their father and less than nurturing stepmother had now passed, leaving them with each other once again. The fortune they discovered within the walls of the cottage as they escaped had dwindled. They had just enough to restore it to the hospitable home it could have been before it was marked by an evil witch. The witch was dead but her stain on the earth remained. The cottage was rebuilt, furnished, and cleansed but the aura of the witch’s wrongdoings would live on. The unlucky children who did not escape the witch’s clutches were still looking for a way out. 

*

Margaret swept the porch and the cobblestone path every morning after the sun rose. She was alone since her younger brother Ian could no longer bear to be trapped in the cottage alongside the shadows of the children they almost became. The rune that had once allowed the witch to continue living so long as she feasted on the children abandoned in the forest by their starving families, was replaced by a protection from the Heavens. This kept Margaret and Ian alive as long as they remained in the house to look after the spirits of these children. A small price to pay in exchange for their lives and the treasure that saved their family. 

Without Ian, Margaret took care of the cottage as best as she could. Although she no longer truly aged she felt the wear of the time deep in her bones. Margaret protected them from the evil that lurked where the old stove used to be. The one in its placed cooked only what grew in the garden and no sweets were ever placed on the table or sill. A temptation that had led the children into the cottage in the first place. The destruction of the original stove gave Margaret and Ian some ease, but it never quieted the unrest of the children's souls trapped within the cottage. Every night they came awake with their anguish of their lost childhoods. What left Ian feeling trapped alongside them gave Margaret the perseverance to continue each day in the hopes that one day they would all be freed.

Shadows danced along the walls in the shape of the children that had once been held captive. They remained shadows as their bodies had vanished along with the witch who consumed them. Each night they called out for their parents. Pleaded with the long-gone witch to release them, apologizing for eating the food she had disguised to trick the hungry children. Margaret became accustomed to the tiny voices that rang through the room but some nights she was able to comfort them. She sang the songs they all heard their parents sing around a fire that kept them warm in dark. They had endured the famine all the same. This quieted them as they listened to the familiar melody. Vague memories of a time when they remembered who they were before they became the shadow children of the witch’s cottage.

Margaret would sit back in a rocking chair, gently swaying as she told stories to the shadows. She made up tales with princesses and dragons, princes, and unicorns. All of her tales ended triumphantly. She told the shadows of the world outside as far as she could see. Since she could not stray too far from the boundaries of the cottage, she had no way to tell them about the changes outside the forest. Sometimes she wanted to know how things were different out there now and if Ian was out there somewhere as lonely as she felt without him. She tried to imagine the world beyond the trees of the hill. Most days her mind could not conjure up anything that she did not already have in the cottage, which wasn’t much. 

Every day she pondered how she could bring peace to the children’s shadows. She never questioned if, believing in her heart that there had to be a way she had not tried yet. She created potions and elixirs from what grew in the garden. She asked the halo in the sky for help. Margaret even began to string together incantations, fearing that in her helplessness she would become a version of the being they all feared most.

The real witch was gone but the shadows remained as if time had stopped. Margaret pondered if she had run out of options, but she refused to lose hope that the other children could one day be released from their misfortune just as her and her younger brother had all those years ago. Until then, she continued to play games with the children, shadows of dice joining them along the wall. Sometimes running from room to room, filling the cottage with laughter. Margaret would always remember them as happy children that got lost in the forest one day, waiting to be rescued. 

One day she would be the one to set them free.