Hansel and Abel

Chapter 1: The Black Stove

In the heart of a forest shrouded in twilight, two brothers, Abel and Hansel, trudged along a serpentine path. A creeping fog swathed the ground, obscuring their weary steps.

Abel, the elder, towered over his sibling, his raven hair and deep blue eyes a contrast to his pale complexion. Clad in a brown sweater and trousers, his presence was as commanding as it was protective.

Hansel, with his cherubic face and chestnut hair, mirrored Abel's fair skin and rosy cheeks. His attire, a simple green shirt paired with brown trousers, was completed by well-worn small leather shoes. A wooden stick served as his companion, tapping rhythmically against the snake-like path.

Maintaining a deliberate distance, Abel followed Hansel, his patience waning with each step. Hansel voiced his complaints into the night, "I'm hungry!"

"I know!" Abel groaned in response. Hunger gnawed at them, and the encroaching night painted the sky in shades of amber and crimson. Shelter was imperative, lest the forest's nocturnal animals claim them.

Emerging from the fog, they stumbled upon a clearing where a solitary black home stood, its towering roof piercing the evening sky. No windows adorned its stone walls, and a thatched roof loomed over dead trees and withered plants.

The aroma of sweet bread wafted from the chimney, beckoning the famished boys. Hansel, ever the optimist, pressed for entry, while Abel's caution held him back.

"We should go inside!" urged Hansel, his voice tinged with desperation.

Abel paused, his brow furrowed with concern. "We don't know who lives here," he countered, the weight of caution in his tone.

Hansel's stomach rumbled, a plaintive echo in the growing dusk. "We need food and a bed for the night," he implored.

A shiver coursed through Abel, not just from the biting cold but from the gnawing emptiness within his stomach. After a moment's hesitation, he conceded, "Very well, we'll go inside, but only as guests, and only if we are welcomed." His words, a reluctant compromise, hung in the chilly air. His hunger and the chill of the evening swayed his resolve.

Inside, darkness and a musty scent enveloped them. Sparse furnishings and a lone roaring fireplace offered scant comfort. Calls of "Hello?" were met with silence—the house appeared deserted.

Memories of their deceased parents and the unkindness of their guardians filled the quiet moments by the fire. Orphaned and alone, the brothers sought solace in the warmth of the flames.

Their reverie was broken by a voice, shrill and unexpected. An elderly woman, garbed in black, emerged. "Well, hello!" exclaimed an aged crone, her head emerging from the shadows of the doorway.

Hansel's innocence saw only a kind elderly woman, while Abel's suspicion lurked beneath the surface. "I wasn't expecting any visitors, how lovely!" Her voice shrill as the winter wind matched her visage—creased and sharp. Draped in a gown as dark as the night itself, she embodied the very essence of the tales whispered in fear. Abel's mind raced with warnings, 'A witch, surely.' Hansel, however, beamed with naive hope. "Might we trouble you for a bite to eat, miss?" he inquired with earnest hunger.

The crone's eyes widened in feigned astonishment. "Oh, heavens! Where are my manners? Do come in," she beckoned, her voice dripping with false concern. "I am Enid, and this is my home. I've just prepared some sweet bread and butter, quite the treat!"

She motioned towards the parlor, where a table stood ready, a testament to her premeditated scheme. Enid had sensed the boys' presence long before their arrival, the scent of her deceitful confections a trap set with care. "And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?" she inquired, her grin broadening.