Hänsel and Gretel alternate ending

        “What would happen if Hänsel was eaten and Gretel was forever doomed to serve the witch”

Cackling hideously, the witch seized her spoon with clawed hands and tucked into the meaty broth with undisguised relish. “I’ve waited too long for this!” She slurped, exposing festering, black gums. 

A girl in tattered rags stood shaking by an empty cage in the corner, her eyes fixated on the evil witch who was hunched over the bowl. Bones littered the hovel floor and a bubbling cauldron gave vent to a cloying stench which hung thick in the air, making her eyes water and throat clench in disgust. “Do you want some?” The witch cackled again, spilling the broth over her warty chin. The girl shook her head, unblinking.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha”, the witch burbled, “Ohhh - an eyeball!” Between her crooked fingers she dangled the juicy morsel before dropping it into her mouth. Gretel averted her gaze as her stomach lurched at the vile chomping sounds. The witch wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and belched loudly. “Fetch me my pipe Gretel!” The witch ordered in her hate filled voice.

The girl snapped out of her daze and scurried across the hovel floor like a trained rat, packing the long smoking pipe with rehearsed proficiency and passing it to her wicked captor. The witch seized it and shot the girl a wicked glare, sending a shiver down her spine. “See how lucky you are my dear,” the witch croaked,  “free food and shelter, what else could you want for. Ha-ha-ha-ha.”  She lit the pipe with a click of her fingers and inhaled deeply, throwing her legs up onto the table and looking at the empty cage. “Ahhh,” she mused, “if only you were as fat as your brother, but it is no matter, I’m sure there is plenty you can do.” Gretel shrunk against the wall. “Yes, I’m sure of it.”

The witch tapped the pipe into a polished skull. “Who’d of thought Hänsel’s little head would make such a wonderful ashtray?” Gretel said nothing, numbed to pain and shock as she now was. “I still can’t decide which part I liked best of your brother; the belly fat was superb, but that broth was delightful, I think that essence of fear gave it the edge, don’t you think?” Silence came the reply. “Am I talking to myself!” The witch hurled the bowl at the girl who cowered beside the cage pitifully as it smashed just above her shaven head. “If you cry again I swear ill take those eyes and eat them!” Gretel would not cry. Not ever. “Right, you lazy little bitch - after you’ve swept up that mess you can gut those month old chickens and bottle those dolphin tears!” Gretel nodded fearfully as the witch shuffled along the floor to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Gretel stared at the cauldron and the oven opposite her in turn, wondering which one would end her misery the sooner. But every time she sought to take her own life the image of her loving father flashed into her mind, and she could never go through with it. 

As the days became months and the months years, the witch began to rely ever more on her young captive, who in turn, lost a part of her soul everyday. Yet, unbeknownst to the witch, Gretel had near mastered the art of dark magic herself through cunning observation, spurred on by the dim flame of freedom. One particularly windy night, whilst the witch was out hunting, Gretel resolved to fulfil her plan.

“Just you wait, witch, and see how much I have learnt!” Gretel said to herself, putting on a pointy hat she had never dared touch before, “this is my night! I am more powerful than you know!” She raised her hands skyward and thunder boomed. Reaching for a green vile labeled ‘poison,’ Gretel removed the cap and poured a small amount into a dish hidden inside the cage.

A sudden thud confirmed the witches arrival and Gretel hastened into the cage, throwing the hat on the table. The witch burst in violently and tossed a bloody ram’s head onto the floor before storming over and padlocking the cage shut, kicking her through the bars for good measure. Stamping across the floor, she poured herself a generous portion of slop from the cauldron before retiring to her dingy room, leaving the door open behind her.

Twirling a piece of rat meat between her fingers, Gretel called for the cat as quietly as she could. “Here puss, puss, puss.” The spiteful cat leapt down from an unseen chair and cautiously took the gift he had grown accustomed to. With unknown speed Gretel seized the cat by its throat and choked it to death between the bars. She checked the witch was still asleep. Her thunderous snoring confirmed as much. “Now for the magic.”

Reaching into her ripped dress, she drank a tiny blue vile and in the blink of an eye morphed into the very likeness of the now deceased familiar. Gretel the cat shook free the tattered dress which covered her and turned to the poison dish behind her, carefully dipping her razor sharp claws into the liquid before retracting them. Gretel slipped effortlessly through the bars and made for the witch’s room.

The witch stirred as the cat neared and she picked up the feline, stroking it roughly. “Hello my pretty.” The cat hissed and the witch grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, pulling it close to her beady eyes. Instantly, Gretel slashed her claws forwards. The witch screamed in agony as the cat was released from her grip. Bloody froth spilled from her vanishing eyes and the witch clasped her face in vain, stumbling from her bedroom and falling head over heels into the cauldron. Her death scream echoed into the night. The cat purred.   

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