Hansel and Gretel: A Revised Version, Sophia Chen ‘24

“I’m hungry, Hansel,” Gretel complained. She and her brother were walking along the path into the woods. Though their cheeks were still full, Hansel nodded his head, swallowed, and said, “Yes. Hungry.” Hansel always agreed with his sister. The moment he finished talking, Hansel reached into his bag and shoved some grayish crackers (chips?) into his mouth. He wasn’t very careful; the two dripped crumbs as they walked. “I want more to eat,” said Gretel, though she had so much food layered on in pouches all over her body that she waddled like a penguin. As she spoke, she pulled a stale dinner roll (or maybe a very gray potato?) out of a pouch, twisted it into her hair, and gulped it down in a bite. “More,” her brother agreed, shoving something burnt and blackened into his mouth. Gretel looked distastefully at the trees, bushes, and flowers growing on the sides of the road. “Too much green,” she said. “Like vegetables.” “Vegetables. Yuck.” said her brother. “Need more food. Good food,” said Gretel, small sharp greedy eyes scanning their surroundings. “Yes! Food!” said Hansel. “We need house!” Gretel glared at her brother. She didn’t like it when he said something she didn’t already say. Unfortunately, he was right. The two children needed a house so they could be full. The nearest house was about a mile from where the siblings were on the path. In the bright, cheery kitchen, a nice little old lady hummed as she wiped vomit off of the floor. Then she went and took a shower to get all the blood out of her hair. Hmmm. Maybe she’s not so nice after all. Anyways, when Hansel and Gretel got to the house, their mouth watered just from the sight. It was built of real brick, not those fake things you see nowadays. It had not one but two stories and one of those quaint garden benches that just begged to be eaten--I mean sat on. The sun gleamed off the tiles and the window panes. The twin’s eyes grew wide and glassy as they walked towards the shimmering house as if in a trance. They could taste it already, smell the luscious scent of mortar and cement, feel the wonderful crunch of roof tiles. They descended upon the building like ravenous wolves and started to eat to their heart’s content. Oh, how wonderful it tasted! Their steel, twisted teeth sank into the walls of the house like a knife through butter. They crunched and snapped their way through half a wall and a window before the old lady came out, horrified. “What are you--are you eating my house?” she asked. Hansel and Gretel didn’t even bother to reply. They were too busy chewing through the walls like they were gingerbread. The wall and part of the roof were demolished by now.

“Wow, and I thought my eating habits were weird,” said the lady as she watched them scarf down cement. She ran into the house for a second and mixed up two drinks. On a last-second thought, she crunched some rocks into it and half a brick. “Oh, children,” she called, waving the drinks around. The appetizing sound of rocks clunking into each other caused Hansel and Gretel to pause. Raw material was great, sure, but they hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in years. The twins came hankering over--their pouches lay by the wall, forgotten. They reached for the drinks like eager puppies. The woman gave them a smile that verged on insanity and handed them the cups. “Drink up,” she said, just as they both took a sip and keeled over, unconscious. Cackling now, the lady slung them both into a burlap bag and took them into the house (or what was left of it). Once inside, she flung them into two ready cages with thick steel bars and five padlocks each. She was about to start the oven right then and there, but then she noticed that without the pouches, both Hansel and Gretel were so thin you could count their ribs. Frowning, she tapped her chin. She had just eaten a meal, so she wasn’t very hungry, and these two would be gone in an instant anyway. What she needed was for them to get fatter. Sighing, she walked to the counter and ordered some concrete. When the twins woke up, Gretel groaned loudly. “Food,” she said. “Yes. Food,” said her brother. The old lady smirked. “Not too intelligent, are we?” she asked. “Don’t worry, none of the others were either.” She stopped them from chewing on the bars of the cage and gave them the concrete. She ordered a steady supply to feed them but ended up having to drug them a good deal of the time as the moment they finished the concrete shipment of the day, they started eyeing the padlocks hungrily. This repeated on and on for weeks, but to the old lady’s frustration, the twins seemed no fatter than they were before, no matter how or what she fed them. Finally, she gave up and started heating the oven anyway. The old lady was starving, and the twins weren’t getting any fatter anyway. She bent over to check the oven. It just so happens that Hansel and Gretel woke up at that time. Perhaps, in her old age, the lady had accidentally misjudged the dose, or perhaps she just forgot to set the alarm. Either way, when Hansel and Gretel saw they had no food, they grew ferociously angry. They had already been deprived, and now they were hungrier than ever. They gnawed through the steel bars in a flash then turned their attention to the old lady. “Hate her,” Gretel said. “She why we no food.” “Yes. No food bad,” said Hansel. The old lady turned around too late. With smug, insane grins, the twins pushed her into the oven, slammed the door and turned up the heat.

In the oven, the old lady cursed at herself for not just killing those kids in the first place. The temperature rose, and she groaned, her head pounding. Kids were just so annoying. She couldn’t stand them, not even her granddaughter. So, she got rid of them and got some nutrients in the process. She was doing a service to humanity. And what did she get for it? Being locked in an oven! An oven that was steadily getting hotter, too. Perspiration beaded along her brow. Her back ached from sitting in her cramped position. Her stomach raged in turmoil as she moaned and closed her eyes. She was being cooked alive--her blood would boil, her skin would melt, and yet, because of the longevity potion she took, she would not die until her body was completely destroyed. She would watch as her skin fused and her fingernails dropped off. Her eyeballs would pop like grapes, and her bones would crack. Just kill me now, she thought as her hair blackened and crumbled. The oven got hotter. Meanwhile, Hansel and Gretel were eating the house from the inside out. They guzzled and chomped, crackled and chewed, gnawed and devoured. The lady’s china collection disappeared into their mouths like popping candy. They slurped up electric wires like noodles and crunched them into light bulbs. They noshed on dresses, consumed porcelain by the mouthful, and swallowed paintings whole. They polished off the sink, made short work of the bed, and absolutely inhaled the staircase. They scarfed down curtains, gulped down books, and wolfed down tables. As they ate, they packed. They had retrieved their pouches and dumped various materials in them, scraping off chips of grayish concrete, plopping in potato-shaped chunks of stone, and dragging charred pieces of wood from the fireplace into their bags until they bulged at the seams. When they were done, they went back to the path, rejuvenated. Behind them, where the house once stood, was nothing but a patch of dirt; not even the oven had been spared. The rocks from the garden and the gnome statues lying around had been obliterated. It was like nothing had ever been there in the first place. Hansel and Gretel, though, were very happy. The house had almost appeased their appetite.After so many days of starvation, it was refreshing to finally eat again. They were in very high spirits. However, some things do not last. As the euphoria of food slowly drained away, emptiness quickly replaced the satisfying feeling in the twin’s stomachs. Doomed to roam the woods, looking for sustenance, the siblings wandered toward the sunset. “I’m hungry, Hansel,” Gretel complained.

Sophia Chen ‘24 Scholastic Honorable Mention