Many would say that the sight of a plump middle aged woman placing loaves in the oven is perfectly ordinary. Indeed they would venture to suggest that such a scene is often repeated in countless kitchens all over the world. And in many cases this would be true. Except that no ordinary housewife or mother would even consider entertaining the dark thoughts which occupy the mind of the witch who resides in this cottage hidden deep within an ancient forest.
How long must I wait? This is the thought which consumes every waking moment, until she is nearly driven mad with frustration. Deeper still is the constant ache of hunger for mortal flesh and the need to test her spells against a worthy opponent who presents a challenge. Four months of waiting and hoping, of spells crafted in malice to beguile and entrap a human child in search of food. And still none had come to her door to ask for a crust of bread.
Could her magic be weakening? Or had word of her exploits reached so far beyond the forests' borders that no parent would let their children walk its paths alone. Those explanations could be part of the reason why she had not had fresh meat in many months.
Her thoughts turn to long ago, when she was driven from her homeland by those who feared and hated what she was. She recalled the endless months of traveling and searching for a place where she could work her magic without fear of discovery or retribution. Her search had led her here, to this forest of hidden glades and towering oaks. Still she wasn't content, for she knew that much work lay ahead if she was ever to enjoy her previous successes.
As her keen mind sought out ways to fulfill her twisted desires, an intriguing plan took shape. But was it possible? Certainly no other witch that she knew of had ever attempted such an unusual and ambitious project. And it was for that very reason that she would make the attempt.
Each step was carefully planned, for she wanted no errors in this challenge which would blend magic and mortal arts in a way never before seen. She began her work, using her knowledge of mortal food to create delicacies which would delight and satisfy countless children.
And as she baked she sang songs which offered the promise of rest after a day's toil, of the warmth of a good fire and an evening spent in the company of friends. She recalled the ancient lullabies of her people, treasured melodies which countless mothers had sung over the cradles of their children. Some of these were in fact old chants crafted by sorceresses to protect their little ones, composed so skillfully that even those without that priceless gift could call upon the magic of creation to guard their children. How she delighted in twisting such noble magic, in slowly unraveling each bright strand of power and replacing it with delicate webs of subtle seduction and beguilement. For many days she worked, finishing each confection with words of power, of enticement and subtle compulsions to come and taste and enjoy until at last her house was complete.
Her plan had succeeded admirably, drawing many a lost and hungry child to her door where she would welcome them in with false words of comfort and the offer of a night's shelter. Only after crossing the threshold did they realize the danger, but by then all hope of rescue was futile.
Power stirs within her, drawing her back to the present, as she is informed that children are at last near. For a moment she considers leaving her sanctuary to seek them out and tender lodging for the night, knowing that few would ever refuse such a tempting offer. But as she wills the flames in the hearth to show her their location, she is glad that she didn't act according to impulse. For walking next to the children is the father and mother, the latter's face filled with sorrow at the prospect of leaving his children to the mercy of the forest. Grim joy fills her soul, for if the parents were deliberately leaving their children to wander and eventually starve to death so much the better. They would hardly be the first to take such desperate measures. Now she had only to wait for evening before luring them into her house through subtle trickery and the promise of a warm meal.
The first stars of evening appear, and she watches as Hansel and Gretel prepare to make the long journey home. They walk a few paces, before the boy stops and appears to be searching for something he has dropped. His sister joins in the search, until finally they sit down dejected.
She watches as the brother draws his sister into a protective embrace, offering words of comfort and promising to keep her safe. At last they succumb to exhaustion, and curl up together by the small fire they have managed to light to ward off the chill of the evening air.
They are so close. She can taste their fear, underlying courage and something deeper which she cannot for the moment name. But as her chosen victims kneel on the forest floor she recognizes what it is all too well. Did they really believe that a simple evening prayer would keep them safe from her magic? Oh she knew of the legend, many parents comforted their children with stories of the fourteen angels who kept guard over children in danger. But never had she thought she would encounter anyone who would actually consider testing the truth of the legend's claim. Unbidden anxious thoughts assail her, and she wonders if perhaps there is truth behind the ancient story.
But if that were so, then why weren't other children protected from her magic?
Dismissing such ridiculous ideas from her mind, she keeps her gaze fixed upon the dancing flames, determined to do all in her power to lure these children into her clutches. The moon begins its ascent and still her focus does not waver as she watches the children gradually succumb to sleep, exhausted by the hardships of the day. Her thoughts turn to her own comfortable bed, and for a moment she considers ending her spell. Curiosity coupled with the need for little sleep decides her course, and she once more settles down to continue her vigil.
The moment the moon is fully risen she knows that something is wrong. As before her magic is very much awake, telling her of coming disaster. Strong fingers grasp a slender wand as she sends her magic forth, seeking to learn more. And what she finds causes her to gasp in shock, as her wand falls unnoticed to the floor.
One moment the clearing is empty, the next it is ablaze with a light so intense that she is forced to turn away. Everything within her is urging her not to look, but curiosity as to what this could mean prompts her to fix her gaze upon the flames she summoned. All that is dark and corrupt within her recoils at the sight, for she knows that these are the fourteen angels she has so long considered legend come to protect these children. The glory which surrounds them is too pure, too fierce and all consuming for them to be anything else.
As if choreographed they separate and find a place to stand. The words of the children's prayer fill her mind, and she watches as one by one they take their positions with the ease of long practice. Their leader's face is stern and commanding, and yet within his eyes there burns compassion and tenderness as he looks down upon the sleeping brother and sister. Every instinct within her is warning her that this is an adversary worthy of great respect, a warrior who is more than capable of ending the life she has worked so hard to forge.
Sensing her presence he turns in her direction, drawing a sword lit from within by celestial fire. And for the first time since her exile, she knows what it is to be afraid. Tales of this sword were closely guarded, known only amongst those born to command magic. Forged within the all consuming fire of God's presence, it was said to have played a crucial role in the battle which exiled Lucifer from heaven. And she knows of only one angelic being who could wield a flaming sword with such grace and confidence. He is none other than the archangel Michael; commander of heaven's warriors.
For an instant their eyes meet, and it takes all of her strength to hold that piercing gaze. But harder still is the struggle to stand tall before the power of the voice which commands her full attention,
"Think you that your slaughter has gone unnoticed? That the sorrow of each grieving mortal has not been heard in the courts of heaven? You ridicule the faith of these children, and yet it has this night conquered all of your magic."
"All who venture this far into the forest are mine. It has been this way for many years, and their parents have given up all claims to these children."
"Not so, for this very night their father prayed asking that Jehovah would send his angels to watch over his children. Always fourteen are chosen, and it is not often that I am asked to be counted among their number.
Tonight you will not have them, for they have called upon the very music of creation to protect them from danger.
They will be yours for a time, but heed my words, for when they step across the threshold of your house then you will know that death awaits you."
Hot anger rises within her, for never before has anyone dared to challenge her with such boldness and authority. She glares back at the archangel defiance clearly written in her gaze, not wanting to admit that his words have made her uneasy. She has waited so long for children to be within her reach, only to be thwarted by the decree of the one who had written the very laws of the universe.
She heaves a sigh of relief when the dawn chorus of birds begins, and despite no sleep rises to begin her baking. If she is to die soon then she is determined to make her last days unforgettable.
She welcomes Hansel and Gretel with kind words and the promise of a feast, leading them to the long table where all is ready. With a contented smile she watches as they devour every scrap of food, and pay her many compliments on her skills as a cook. She listens with feigned interest, as they speak of the times before famine came to the land, when their birth mother had been alive and all was right with their world.
It is only after they are asleep that she allows her mask to drop, and her features harden into a face utterly devoid of warmth and pity.
What does she care that they are favored by heaven? Hunger and curiosity has brought them to her door, and she is determined to slay them as she has so many others regardless of who is watching over their destiny.
Authoress's note: Thanks to Snapegirlkmf for her wonderful review. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait and that you enjoyed this unusual character sketch.
What did you think of my twist on a familiar fairy tale?
I had lots of fun bringing in elements from the opera composed by Humperdinck and his sister.
The libretti doesn't say which angels appear at the end of the second act, so I thought I would play with both opera and fairy tale a bit and include Michael in this chapter.
Thanks for reading and as always I would love to hear what you think of this series so far. Lets see if I can get ten reviews.
Oh and if anyone would like to hear the Evening Prayer duet and following instrumental piece from the opera which inspired this small tale, let me know and I'll post the link on my profile.