Authors Note: I wrote this story for school this past year, since it qualifies for a "fanfic" in the fairy-tale category, I thought I'd add it here. Enjoy!

The case of "Hansel and Gretel" has finally been brought to court. Mirsella Witchwood has been in jail for months and is finally being put on trial. She claims that she was framed. Here is her testimony, as told to the court.

Hello, peasants. My name is Mirsella Witchwood, and I was framed by two no-good, spoiled-rotten, bratty blonde children.
First of all, I'd like to let the court know that I never wanted to be a witch. In fact, I actually wanted to become a doctor, or maybe a fashion designer, or rescue poor abused animals, but no. You see, Your Honor, I come from a family line in which every female becomes a witch—the transformation starts at age 16. First, our skin turns a sickly green color. Then, our hair becomes inky-black and scraggly. Next, warts grow on our nose and face. We are forced to wear black because it is the only color that compliments our skin and hair colors. Eventually our parents can't stand to look at us anymore and they send us off to a life in seclusion in the woods. So, don't you dare accuse me of choosing to become a witch.
There's another thing you should know about my witchery. Everyone seems to think that witches are ugly, 100-year-old hags or whatever. Heh, not me. Truth is, I'm only 18. I may not be very beautiful, but I am MUCH prettier than the way those Grimm Brothers described me (I bet the bratty blonde girl paid them).

All witches get kicked out of their parents' home when they are 18 years old, so I was new at homeowning. Witches can't eat candy-the heavy amount of sugar makes us sick. However, when I was young, a friend of mine offered me a piece. The small peppermint candy looked so delicious, and I ate it. It left me sick in bed for a week, but it was worth it. My brother knows my struggle with candy so he built my entire house out of it, just to taunt me. How cruel is that?
I guess the point of the matter is that I never wanted to "attract children". I'm not a low-life creeper like some people think I am. Now that I cleared that up, we ought to move on to the real story.

You've all heard how Hansel and Gretel were lost in the woods when they came upon a grand candy house, only to find that a ugly old witch lived there. The witch captured them and fattened them up, and almost ate them for dinner until they killed the witch and escaped.

No, no. Let me tell you what really happened, folks.

There I was, reading a magazine, minding my own business, when I heard a rumbling noise outdoors. I peeked out my licorice-framed window only to see two bony, disgusting village children EATING the exterior of my home. What else was I supposed to do? Let them chomp on my chocolate-bar foundation like good-for-nothing termites? I swear, nobody discliplines their children these days.

I ran out and confronted those dumb little kids for what they were doing. They just screamed and cried at the very sight of me. So, I picked up Gretel by one of her little blonde braids and Hansel by his ear and brought them inside. Suddenly, I felt a sting of compassion for the children, despite the detestibleness they had inflicted on me and my home. They looked pretty skinny, and possibly starving, so I told them they could munch a little on the indoor parts of my home that I didn't use. I mean, I'm certainly not going to eat it, and how much could two skinny little twerps possibly eat? Hansel took a lollipop from the mantel and Gretel did the same. I watched them slowly eat parts of my home for hours. They still looked pretty skinny, but I didn't care anymore. I was tired.
"Alright little scumbags, wrap it up," I said. I invited them to take a few more pieces with them as they went on their way home.
I thought I had done a pretty good deed, helping starving, peckish peasant children. But they just HAD to ruin it and throw me under the bus.

The two ragamuffins started whispering to eachother and whatnot. I just waited for them to get out of my house. Then, that boy child took off around my home, jumping over and sliding under things. I chased him around as fast as I could, but the boy was much faster. Suddenly he dived into a little cage (which I kept for my dog who was, at this time, at the groomer) and locked it, cracking up and pointing his skinny little finger at me. Little did the brat know that I had lost the key long ago and instead used a rope to die the door close when I used it for my dog.
Needless to say the kid locked himself in the cage, NOT me.

I couldn't send the little girl….what was her name again?...Gretel?...yes, Gretel….well, I couldn't send Gretel home alone without the boy so I asked her to help me make dinner (she exaturrated when she said I made her a slave). I fed what's-his-face a lot of food because I wasn't sure how much a kid eats. It's not MY fault he fattend himself up like a pig.
Then there's the story that I wanted to eat Hansel. What in the world? I'm not a cannibal, people. I think the stupid brats made that little story up themselves.

One day I asked Gretel to light the oven. She started crying and whimpered, "You are going to eat my brother, aren't you?"

Um, no. I wanted to have a pizza, not a roasted human.
"No! Why would I want to do that?!" I asked.
Gretel rolled her eyes. "Well, you should go chec the oven yourself! I don't know how to set the tempurature!"

So I went to check the oven myself and suddenly I felt Gretel shove me to the ground. "Oh my gosh, what was that for?" I said. Somehow,Hansel got himself out of the cage, and he and Gretel took all the money and candy they could in their now-fat arms and ran out. I tried to get up, but my ankle really hurt and I realized it must be sprained or broken.

So now, a month later, I am telling everyone in the court that I did NOTHING that should put me in jail. All I did was house and feed two rotten kids. In return they physically abused me and robbed me.

I don't know all the details of the twisted story Hansel and Gretel (or whatever their names are) came up with, but I do know that the story I just now proposed to you was what really happened those few days in the candy house.

And that's all I have to say.