Hunger

Chapter 3

As the dawn approaches, you begin to prepare. You season your cooking pot, wash out your finest clothing, and work a glamour upon your face and body. Witches are all naturally beautiful and fair at first, but living for so long without having eaten has given you a haggard appearance. If you are to properly bait these new guests, you must look your best. As you are working your spell, you hear the sound of voices coming. You grab your best red cloak. It's soft, woven by magic from fresh blood. Annabelle would always wear it when hunting. The children love how the magical garment feels against their skin, and she loved how easily they trusted her once they felt it, tucking themselves in close to her. You witnessed it at least a hundred times or more. Donning the garment, you quickly move to your front door, preparing. You do not want to scare them, so you must move calmly, speak softly, all to show them you mean them no harm. It's the greatest lie a witch can enact, making her victims believe they are entirely safe in her presence; that she, and only she, can take them away to a shadow-garden of magic and bliss.

Gently, you open the front door, seeing two marvelously well-fed children, perfectly aged. They are startled. You caught them eating the candy icicles from your roof, and now they think they've been found doing something naughty. With the voice of a seasoned hunter, you speak to them.

"Why, hello, little ones," you say sweetly. "How on earth did you find yourselves this deep in the forest?" They say nothing, clearly terrified. Kneeling down to their level, you smile sweetly and ask their names.

"I am Hansel," says the boy, "and this is Gretel, my sister."

"What a pleasure it is to meet you both," you say, enticing them into the candy cottage for sweet treats and snacks, assuring them they are welcome to eat all the sweets they want. One the outside, you are well put-together, calm, and collected. No one would know that inside you are screaming, you are crying, you are in more pain than anyone should have to endure. The hunger is nearly taking over. And yet, even as you struggle to keep yourself together, you know you will make it. As the door to the cottage closes, you know the children are yours. You can finally eat again. You can finally soothe the rolling and fiery pains that have tormented your body for so long. But not yet. First you have to cage them; fatten them up. Lean meat doesn't cook well. It becomes tough and dry. You want to make sure they are cooked properly. In a week, they will be ready. Just one more week.

As the final days of waiting come to a close and the children have thickened, you know it's time. You cannot hold back anymore. They have been scared, but you've given them everything you can to comfort and soothe them. You may be a witch, a foul wretched, lonely and miserable creature, but torturing children by scaring them and hurting them is not something you've ever cared for. Besides, torturing them will spoil the meat, making it gamy. They may live in cages, but those cages are comfortable, enchanted to calm any who are within, and lined with down feathers. They have all they need. Bringing your attention back to the task at hand, you move to the kitchen, lighting a fire beneath your oven with your magic. Sometimes being a witch has its perks. As it heats up, you add herbs and spices to your pot, their scent wafting into the room, filling each corner. You think of the pleasing sound fat makes as it sizzles away, melting into a pool at the bottom of the pan. You can't contain your excitement, letting out a loud and free laugh. Tears rolls down your face. It's so close. In just a few minutes, the hunger will finally be sated.

Your laughing is suddenlyinterrupted by the sound of wood clattering to the floor from behind you. Youturn, expecting it's nothing more than your rolling pin. Hardly a rareoccurrence. You are shocked, however, to find that it's not a mere kitcheninstrument. The children have escaped.