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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1562374-Not-So-Happily-Ever-After
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1562374
Entry for 5/20 Happily Ever After...
    Gretel huddled in a corner, the smell of gingerbread filling her nose, her senses. The spicy aroma combined with the smell of death and decay overpowered her, making her retch. After all this time she still couldn't get used to the smell. How had they not noticed it from that first moment, so long ago? A bitter laugh escaped from her throat as she thought how enchanted they had been to find a gingerbread house in the dark reaches of the forest. How delighted they had been to meet the kindly old lady who had offered them food and shelter. Their delight had quickly turned to horror after finding themselves imprisoned by the witch.
    Gretel was beyond horror now. Surely nothing could ever be worse than living to see her brother's fate. She remembered his cries of agony, the muffled shrieks issuing from behind the oven door. She remembered the black smoke pouring from the vents, and the crackling sound of his flesh roasting. She would never forget seeing his blackened corpse being devoured by the demonic old hag, how she had eaten every scrap and sucked the very marrow from his bones.
    Only Gretel's small size had saved her from making an appearance on the menu.  " Too stringy! " the witch croaked, poking Gretel with sharp, bony fingers. " Your dear brother was a fine morsel, but you wouldn't even make a good broth. "  So she was forced to be the witch's slave, cooking, cleaning and chopping wood from sunup 'til sundown.
    Now the only thing keeping the girl alive was a burning hate and desire for revenge. Through hours of backbreaking toil and endless cruelties endured, the rage within her grew. Her delicate hands became tough and calloused. Her arms and back grew strong from chopping and  hauling wood.  As her strength grew with each passing day she held on to the only hope she had left: The hope of carrying out her vengeance.
    Late one night as the witch lay sleeping, Gretel crept to the edge of her bed, axe in hand. She trembled, not with fear, but with exhilaration. With a single sweep of the axe she would end her imprisonment and leave this place, perhaps return home and try to resume a normal life. Every muscle was tensed for the blow, the anticipation mounting inside her as she raised the axe overhead. She drove the axe down with a loud cry, feeling only a momentary resistance as the blade severed the witch's neck and removed her head cleanly from her body. Gretel wiped a splatter of blood from her cheek as she watched the witch's body blacken and shrivel, filling the room with a green haze.
    Her moment of triupmh was cut short as the room began to violently shake. A rumbling issued from the floorboards as the tremors intensified, spilling the contents of the shelves and table and rattling the door in its frame. A howling wind rose around the house, moaning through the eaves and whistling through the cracks in the floorboards. The door blew in, followed by a hunched figure. Gretel found herself pinned by the glare of cold black eyes. An old woman stood before her, a dark cowl covering her withered form and dirty gray hair. An age-spotted hand lifted, and a gnarled finger pointed at her.
    " Miserable child! You killed my sister! You will pay for your crime, you horrible little beast! "
The hag clenched her fists and raised them overhead, seeming to swell from within as a dark mist settled over the room.
" What has been taken must be replaced, a new tale written for one erased. A price to be paid for this dire sin, succumb to the darkness that lives within. " 
Gretel felt a searing pain twisting through her, causing her to cry out as she sank to the floor. Merciful darkness overtook her.
    Some time later she awoke on the floor, her throat dry and her body aching. With trembling limbs she climbed to her feet. She moved about the room, trying to clear her thoughts, when she stumbled over something lying on the floor, sending it rolling toward the table. Kneeling, she reached under the table, searching for the object. She recoiled when her hand touched cold, clammy skin.
      Gritting her teeth, she retrieved the head, noticing the gaping mouth and bulging eyes. The witch's tongue protuded slightly from her open lips and it looked... plump. Juicy. The smell of death reached Gretel's nose, and her mouth began to water. Her stomach began to rumble, and Gretel realized that for the first time in a long while she was actually hungry. In fact, she was ravenous.
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