Hansel, grown, bashes at the gingerbread door until it crumbles under his shoulder.
Inside we stand in wonder and horror, gazing at familiar sugar concoctions covered in mold. I mutter that we shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t breathe the air, so he punches out a row of hard candy windows.
He opens the oven door on the witch’s body, a charred and twisted lump that the spiders have incorporated into their design concept for that interior. I feel myself beginning to be sick even before he says, “I hope you brought the shovels, Gretel, because this would absolutely sink my career.”
Author’s Note: Sometimes you have to clean up the skeletons in the oven before you can really feel secure.
Some of the best stories come out of asking the question “What happens after happily ever after?”
AWESOME take on a classic story.