- One night a very, very, very long time ago I happened upon a small village near Hanau, Germany. This was during one of my jaunts around Europe to see what kind of chaos I could cause. I entered a small dark inn located near the outskirts of the village. I took my rest in a far corner of the room, my back to the wall to "assess" the surroundings. They were very typical for the time, plain basic wood tables with benches, a few smaller tables with roughly hewn chairs, central fire for warmth, and a basic bar with stools near the front of the inn. There were stairs as well that led up to quarters for travelers. Very few candles, which is fine by me as I prefer the dark. The inn floor was strewn with hay and sweet almond to lessen the stench of unbathed men and beasts.
As I was making these observations a serving wench made her way to my small table to bid me what it was I wanted. I proceeded to order a plate of cheese, bread, and jug of wine, as I had already had my fill of meat the night before in a different village.
As the evening progressed the tiny inn became populous with locals. I began to become irritated by the noise and was about to leave (having come to the decision that there was no havoc to be had) when a comely young man came over to sit with me.
Usually I do not "mess about" with the locals on a cordial level, however seeing as how I was bored, I thought to myself, "Oh, he would make some fun sport would he not?"
So, I let him sit down and even offered him some of my wine, as well as the bread and cheese. After a short time had passed with conversation on the local weather and politics, including a few inappropriate suggestions thrown in, as well as quite a few goblets of wine, the topic turned to local folk lore.
He asked me if I had ever read any of the stories by two nearby writers named the Grimm Brothers. I said I had. He then asked me if I knew that the stories were true, but altered by the Grimm Brothers. I told him I had not known that. He continued on with his pointed questioning by asking me if I had read the story of Hansel and Gretel.
By this time I was getting sorely irritated and snapped, "Yes, yes for fuck's sake! Get on with it or let me be!"
After a short apology he moved quite close and in a slight whisper said: " The real Hansel and Gretel were from this village. My grandfather was the huntsman who rescued Gretel."
"Just a moment, you said 'rescued Gretel'. What about Hansel?" I quipped, intrigued by this turn of events.
"Oh, there-in lies the true story of Hansel and Gretel. Would you like to hear it?" He asked in a voice that belayed not only fear, but also a subtle dark arousal of the telling of the tale as he continued.
To be continued - check back next week for Part 2...
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