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The Diary of a Troubled Faery "Twisted Tales: Hansel and Gretel, the True Story"

Here for the first time is the truth about Hansel and Gretel, and the first of many twisted tales I have collected over many years and from many places.
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, quite a few goblets of wine, and few inappropriate suggestions, 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 be silent!"

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.

"The Truth of Hansel and Gretel is this," the young man continued, "Hansel did not escape the evil witch's hunger. In fact, the evil witch told Gretel that if she helped to dismember and stew up her brother she would be left alone to live as a servant to the witch. Hansel loved his sister so and he bade her to do as the witch commanded so that at least one of them would survive.

"Alas, poor Gretel could not go through with it. So Hansel took the knife from Gretel's hand and slit his own throat. As the evil witch cackled at the sight, something went 'snap' inside of Gretel's mind.

"Each time the evil witch would lure a child into her gingerbread house (which was a magical illusion, by the way) she would say to Gretel, 'Remembering your brother, are you? Well, do not trouble yourself with such thoughts, for you are like me now, and nothing and no one can save your immortal soul. You are tainted, tainted to the core.'

"This statement was always followed by the evil witch's hideous cackle, and every time Gretel heard it, she slipped farther and farther away behind empty eyes.

"Days turned into months, months into years, with the same heinous crimes being committed by the witch and poor mad Gretel.

"Then, one day, a woodsman happened upon the cottage. For one brief moment, clarity came upon Gretel and she screamed and screamed for help, running towards the door. But, it was already too late, for the evil witch had cast her dastardly spell and dispatched the woodsman forthwith. With the woodsman gone, the witch set upon Gretel to punish her for her treachery. Gretel was bound to a chair, her mouth pried open, her tongue ripped out, and her lips cut off with a dull knife, so she could never scream again. Then the maniacal witch smashed and hobbled Gretel's feet so that Gretel could never try to run again.

"Several more years passed as Gretel slipped further and further into madness.

"Now, it came to be that the evil witch, whose eyesight was failing, had no choice but to let Gretel chop the vegetables and flesh that went into her human stews, and for some time Gretel did as she was told.

"However, one day things changed. The witch had brought home two small children around the same age and with an appearance very akin to Hansel and Gretel when they first stumbled upon the evil witch's lair.

"Once again something, 'snapped' in Gretel's brain as she began to chop vegetables for this unholy stew.

"As the witch's back was turned to wash her next human victims, Gretel quietly dragged herself around the table directly behind the witch. The maniacal witch being so preoccupied with her catch did not take notice of Gretel's whereabouts. Gretel quickly took the clever in her hand, and with all the strength she could summon hacked into the witches skull.

"Gretel then stumbled backwards as the evil witch grasping her head fell back upon Gretel, her life's blood leaving her in torrents.

"The children ran screaming out the door. Gretel hunched over the body and began to dissect it, piece by horrible piece, with a butcher's precision.

"Two days later, a huntsmen (my grandfather) came from the village in response to the childrens' tale. There he found Gretel huddled in a corner near the blood and gore of the rotting, evil witch's hacked up remains.

"Gretel stared off emptily into the distance, her knees drawn up under her chin as she rocked herself back and forth...back and forth.

"In her state of madness, she had clawed at her flesh and torn out clumps of hair.

"The huntsman brought her to this village, where her wounds were tended. Gretel emerged from her catatonic state only long enough to scribble out what had happened to her. After that, she once again retreated back into herself.

"My grandfather had no choice. He was forced to take her to the city, where she remains to this day - locked behind asylum doors. It is rumoured that she never makes a sound; she just sits there, rocking herself in a padded cell behind empty eyes.

"This is the story my grandfather told me," he said.

After a few more inappropriate suggestions, I smacked him across the face, causing his mouth to bleed. As I leaned over him licking the blood from his lips, I whispered: "Remember not this evening."

I left him there alone and bewildered.

Hmm, I wonder where this asylum is, as I wandered off toward my next adventure.


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