Hansel and Gretel: The Witch's Story

As I sit here burning in this oven, it is hard to forget the faces of the two little brats that threw me in here. Hansel, the boy, and Gretel, his sister, had gotten lost in the forest after their father and a woman had left them in the woods and they had lost their trail back home.

I had woken a few weeks before to find the pair eating the roof and windows of my house. I had made the house of Gingerbread and cakes and candies, in the hope that the children who wandered into the wood might be lured into my house. I would then fatten them up, then kill them, cook them and eat them.

I brought the children into my house and gave them good food and clean beds in which to sleep. The entire time I acted as a kind old woman who intended to help these children, not an evil witch who wanted to eat them as a feast.

The next morning, I awoke early and took Hansel and locked him in a small stable, behind a grated door. Then I woke Gretel and told her to fetch some water and cook a good meal for her brother as he was to be fattened up, so I might eat him when the time came.

She wept endlessly, but it was all in vain, as I forced her to do what I had commanded of her. She cooked the best meals for Hansel but I gave her only the scraps left in the cooking pots.

Every day I would ask to feel his finger, so that I may feel if he will soon be fat. But alas, he never grew more than the size he was when I found them outside my house. After four weeks, I gave up in my quest to fatten him before eating him. I told Gretel to build a great fire under the oven and collect some water to make a stew. For tomorrow I was going to kill him and cook him.

The girl’s tears started anew as she wept to her God. She cried about monsters and wolves in the wood finding them and that if the two of them had stayed in the wood, they would have died anyway, but at least they would have been together.

I told her repeatedly to keep her noise to herself, as it would do no good to her brother. But then she would start sobbing and crying to her God, louder and louder every time.

Early the next morning, I sent Gretel out to fetch some wood and start a fire under the oven. Then we baked the bread, cut and stewed the vegetables. Soon after that, I told Gretel to climb into the oven and check if it was hot enough. I had intended to close the door while she was inside, but the girl realised my plans and told me she did not know how to get into the oven. I told her that the door was big enough for anyone to fit through. I even thrust my own head into the oven to show her.

That was when she struck.

She pushed me and I lost my balance, toppling into the oven. She closed and locked the door just as I turned around and began banging on the door. The heat was starting to get to me by then. I hated fire. It was one of deadliest things for a witch to encounter. Stakes and Crosses did nothing. And yet a single ember flying from the flames could turn a witch to ash. That was why I had always had Gretel start the fires. But of course, few knew this fact.

So here I am now, as the two little brats escape and I burn to death, miserably, in this oven. Now as I die, I’m glad someone listened to my side of the story. Everyone thinks I was an evil, godless witch who wanted to eat these children because I felt like it. But to be honest, I hadn’t eaten in weeks, possibly even months. I never kept track of time, so I could never have to know how long I had gone without food. But birds, rabbits and squirrels will only fill you up for so long before you get tired of them. That was why I was so glad to find these children.