Ch. 02: Hansel & Gretel
(Author's note: The tale of Hansel and Gretel is a strangely simple one. The mother, for reasons of poverty, decides to abandon her children. She tries, they come back, she tries again, and the children get captured by a witch whom they then have to kill to be free. But I've always thought that there was a little more to it than that. And thus, the following story.
My thanks to Selena_Kitt for the idea and my inclusion into this effort. We have a lot of talent on board, and I hope that you will read all the stories in the chain. And so, with no more further ado . . . .)
***
Once upon a time . . . .
Their mother occupied the doorway as Hansel and Gretel lay sleeping. Throughout all their eighteen years, the children had never called their matriarch anything other than 'Mother.' Not 'Mom' or 'Mommy,' always 'Mother.' Even their father referred to his wife by the matronly title. Any deviation resulted in a
stern look
. And for Hansel and Gretel, a
stern look
meant discipline. Discipline . . . which was conducted in the basement, with switches and paddles and padded cuffs.
So the children were always well behaved, at least around Mother. Around town, however, they were the usual rambunctious, mischievous teenagers, yet their fear of discipline from their mother meant they were inordinately crafty; never had anyone guessed that the delinquents who periodically stole from Abel Mencke's orchard, who had defaced the statue of Revolutionary War hero and first mayor Earl Kelly Stipes, who had once broken into Mrs. Heath's candy store in the middle of the night, were the twins Hansel & Gretel, widely viewed as 'angelic' by the townsfolk of Brimstone.
It's time t' let 'em go,
Mother thought crossly as she watched her children in their beds.
Eighteen years is a long enough time t' wait for freedom. Once I'm rid o' them, Lewis'll be even more docile. And without the children to pay for, that's money I can finally spend t' replace that ridiculous jalopy I drive and get a
real
car . . . like a Cadillac.
But, how t' do it? None too likely they'd leave on their own. I know them. No, I'd have t' take 'em someways far away . . . far, far away . . . .
***
"Psst! Hansel!"
Hansel murmured in his bed, frowning at the sound of his twin's voice. He buried his face in the pillow --
Christ, when was the last time it was washed?
-- and pretended to still be asleep. But his sister knew him too well, and he, she. As with many twins, they enjoyed (and sometimes reviled) a nearly psychic link between them.
"Damn it, Han!" she hissed, keeping her voice low. She pinched her brother's ear roughly, eliciting the desired effect. But just as his eyes flashed open and he began to cry out in pain, Gretel slapped her hand over his mouth, so all that escaped was a muffled sound of irritation.
Gretel pressed a single finger to her lips. "Shh!"
Hansel frowned, staring at his twin. Aside from the fact that they were of different sexes, Hansel and Gretel were truly identical. Their faces almost perfectly mirrored one another, save that Hansel's was a bit broader, and Gretel's brow was thinner. But both had the same sharp, narrow nose, short black hair, and catlike violet-hued eyes. Even their builds were similar, being athletic and lean, although Hansel stood a couple of inches taller than his slightly-older sister, and possessed broader shoulders.
"What th' devil's gotten in ya?" Hansel whispered after his sister took her hand away.
Still with a finger to her lips, Gretel beckoned with her hand and rose from the floor, where she had been kneeling beside her brother's bed. She stepped to the door of the room they shared -- and had always shared since the first day they drew breath -- and peered out.
Hansel flipped back the old worn blanket and stained, threadbare sheets, letting his feet rest quietly on the floor. Silently, following his sister's lead, he approached behind her. "Greta?" he asked, his voice so soft, audible only to her ear.
She looked at him over her shoulder, needing not to say a word to indicate that he should follow. The short tee covering her torso offered no modesty to her lower body. The worn and stretched panties that hugged her slender hips tightly (there was a hole in the right cheek that revealed much too much bare flesh) might as well have been airbrushed paint. Similarly, the simple briefs Hansel wore looked almost like a man's bikini upon him.
Gretel lead the way along the hall to the top of the stairs, where she crouched behind the railing. Wordlessly, Hansel followed suit, almost intimately framing his sister's body with his own. But such closeness was nothing new to the siblings; even as legal adults, they still slept in the same bed at times.
Two pairs of unnaturally violet eyes watched through the scratched and scuffed wooden posts of the stair rail as Mother spoke with their father in the living room below. Their words were just barely discernible to the twins' ears.
". . . Y'know I'm right," Mother was saying, facing her husband upon the moth-eaten couch. "They's of age, now. And they need a taste o' th' world outside this little town. It'll be good for 'em."
Reluctantly, the twins' father, Lewis, nodded. "I . . . s'pose so," he said cagily. "I'm just not sure I like th' idea of drivin' 'em away from town, and just . . .
leavin'
'em thereβ"
"Lewis!" Mother snapped. "As always, it ain't for you t' like. This'll be good for them. I know it. I
am
their mother, after all."
Timidly, Lewis nodded, casting his eyes down.
Mother straightened, taking on her usual air of authority and arrogance. "It's settled, then," she said with a smug smile. "Tomorrow, I'll take 'em out for a drive. And when I return --
alone