Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I brace myself and turn towards the last object in the main room, the big iron oven. My heart thuds in my ears. If the witch pushes open the oven door and crawls out, the image flashes in front of my eyes and a scream tries to claw up my throat. But it’s not real. The oven is still. The reality is that this place is empty. Still, I’m slow to move. Terrified that the nightmares are real.
It's dark as the windows, no fire lit inside, but the sight of it makes me want to be sick.
Hansel holds my hand tighter and pulls me with him to the oven. He doesn’t release my hand when he bends down and opens the thick door on the front. It creaks on its hinges like it hasn’t been opened since.
“Come look, Gretel.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Come look,” he urges. “I’m here. Right beside you and there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I hesitate until he adds, “I promise.”
Slowly, and cautiously, I bend down next to him.
The oven is empty. There’s nothing inside. Not even the ash.
There’s no sign of her at all. Just an old oven, in an old cottage. No proof of any wickedness at all. Because she’s gone. She’s dead.
Relief slowly spreads through me, although I still don’t quite trust it. Foolishness runs through me. Embarrassment almost. Of course she’s dead. She’s long since perished. The stones… perhaps I imagined them. I don’t know anymore. Perhaps I’ve gone crazy with fear.
“It’s empty,” he says firmly, then straightens up. Hansel drops my hand and brushes them on his pants. I look up to apologize to him, but then I see his hardened expression. His furrowed brow and stern look.
He’s upset. Maybe even angry. Hansel has every right to be angry at me.
We came to this house because I dared him all those years ago.
It was the kind of thing that kids from the village did. Every so often, we’d go on a long ramble, pretending we were travelers. Our legs could carry us a decent distance. But we’d never seen this cottage before.
Hansel and I made it all the way here. We had to sleep out overnight to do it without a wagon, but we didn’t care. It was summer, and the stars were out. We were having an adventure.
We didn’t think anything bad could happen to us.
But it did.
The forest looked mysterious in the summer, with all the leaves waving on the branches and the long, dark paths leading to unknown places. Every time one of us wanted to turn back, the other would make another dare.
A little farther, then a little farther, then a little farther.
When we came to the clearing and saw the cottage, I couldn’t resist. I dared Hansel to go up and knock on the door.
We hadn’t expected anyone to answer.
I ran to Hansel’s side when the door cracked open and took his hand.
We went inside together.
We were not the same when we came back out. As I watch the pain morph into Hansel’s expression, I remember what he must be remembering. All the agony she put us through.
The witch chained me up, but she tortured Hansel. I screamed until I couldn’t make a sound. I still have scars from where the metal dug into my skin.
He was different after that. He didn’t want anything to do with me, and I can’t blame him. How could I ever blame him? He wasn’t the one who suggested knocking on the door. If I hadn’t done it—
If I hadn’t dared him, maybe we would have walked back out of the forest and headed home. Maybe our lives could have stayed simple.
But that’s not what happened.
Something hits the floor with a loud ‘bang’ and brings me out of my memories. Hansel pulls pieces of wood off a stack in the corner. It’s the same stack that was here the last time we were. He kicks one of the fallen logs back into place and turns to face me.
“I’ll make a fire. We’ll stay here tonight.”
The darkness outside lets me know there’s no way we’d be able to make it through the woods. “Here?” I question and he looks back at me as though it’s an odd question.
“We have to rest before heading back. We’ve travelled all day and night.”
There’s no hearth in the little cottage. It’s heated—when it’s heated—by the oven. While Hansel tips the wood into the oven and gets the fire started, I find a broom in the opposite corner. I find a rag near the sink and use it to brush away the cobwebs from the broom, then use the broom to brush the worst of the cobwebs off the walls and corners. Then I do the floor, starting near the door and working my way around.
Hansel shuts the oven with a clang just as I reach the doorway. I’m simply keeping myself busy. Exhaustion weighs down on me but I don’t know how I could possibly sleep here. Foolishness once again sinks it’s claws into me.