Hank and Greta - A Fairy Tale Retold

Hank and Greta – A Fairy Tale Retold

By Leslie Johnson

Miriam watched the lone tumbleweed roll down the wide vacant street. Dust and debris raced behind as the wind swept in from the west. Looking left and then right to be certain no one was about she exited the dark alley with two small children in tow.

            Hank, being only six stumbled over his feet as he was pulled quickly along by his stepmother. She didn’t slow down, she merely snarled at him to keep up. Greta, being eight had less difficulty managing the pace. Neither child was happy, being here on this side of town with Miriam. They knew they should be at home, waiting for their father to come home for supper.

            A few blocks down, Miriam turned into the overgrown yard of a house with many colors. From the street, it looked like a decorated gingerbread house, but up close, it was ratty and run down. Miriam dragged the children up the stairs and rang the doorbell.

            Loud shuffling noises pierced through the large wooden door and then the sound of a lock being sprung. A bright light above the visitors split the darkness before the door creaked open a crack. An old grizzled face stared out one eye squinted closed against the bright outside light. “Yes?” she inquired, with a voice that made both children shiver.

            “I’ve brought the brats like you asked. Now where is my money?”

            Greta, realizing what her stepmother had said, started to pull away. She wanted to run home to her daddy - curl up in his lap where she felt safe. She looked across at Hank and knew that she couldn’t leave him behind. She tried to signal him, but Miriam rapped her on the back of her head with her purse. Dazed, Greta lost her will until it was too late.

            The old crone inside the house, opened the door a little wider and Miriam pushed the children through into the dim light of the large foyer. Releasing them, she took the offered cash and slipped back into the night. The large door slammed shut and the old crone twisted the lock into place.

            Turning on the children, she grabbed Hank and inspected him from all angles. She did the same for Greta, grunting that both children were too skinny. She led them down a dark hall to a locked door. She pulled a large skeleton key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Throwing it open, the children saw several small cotton mattresses on the floor. All of them bare of bedding. A dim light shone through the solitary window at the far end of the room. The bars barricading the portal cast shadows on the worn, dirty hardwood floor. The evil wench herded the children inside. “I’ll be back.” She called over her shoulder as she left the room, closing the door behind her. 

A few seconds later Greta tried the door, but it was locked securely. Seeing the light switch, she flipped it on. Horrified shouts filled her ears and she whirled around to find several children in the room. They crawled out from the closet and from inside the wardrobe she hadn’t noticed before.   

A boy ran past her and switched off the light. Then with a finger on his lips, he motioned the two newcomers to follow him. All the children gathered on the far side of the room, well away from the door. In hushed and frantic whispers they shared their stories with Hank and Greta.

The largest boy sneered at the newcomers. His name was Derek. In a harse whisper, he told them what was to come. “If it goes like it did for us, you can expect to get scrubbed down with a harsh brush and some foul smelling soap. If you have lice, you’ll be shaved. They’ll give you an outfit to wear while they take pictures for some creep who’s looking at taking kids from families who don’t want them no more.”

“That’s not true,” Greta shouted. “Our daddy wants us.”

“Then why are you here?” He stared hard at Greta. She held his gaze for a few seconds, then lowered her eyes. “Because you’re mom didn’t want ya. I saw her drag you up them stairs. She’s throwing you away, just like we’ve been thrown away.”

Greta started to cry and Hank joined her. He was terrified he was never going to see his daddy again. All he wanted to do was go home. If his step-mother would come back and get him he promised silently to be a better boy.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Greta squeaked.

“You’re going to be sold to the highest bidder. In the meantime, the old bat is going to fatten you up. She’s going to make sure you’re healthy and well enough so she don’t get no trouble from the perverts that are going to take you.”

“I want to go home…” Hank wailed, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“This is home.” The older boy said. “Until it ain’t.”

Clearly distressed, the children parted, each climbing onto a bed in twos and threes. Greta and Hank clung to one another, Greta feeling helpless to comfort her brother. Both of them cried until exhausted, they fell asleep.  

It happened just as Derek said. They were scrubbed and posed to have their pictures taken. Greta stuck her tongue out at the photographer. Even though she got a whipping for that, she felt proud that she was not making it easy for her jailers.

The only good thing was the food. Three times a day, the children were herded into a dining hall, where every imaginable delicacy was set out for their enjoyment. They were encouraged to eat and they did. Hank loved having chocolate cake for breakfast. 

The next day, three of the children disappeared from the room.Later, two new recruits appeared, scared and crying. Greta did her best to comfort them, while Derek, the older boy gave them the lowdown on what to expect. 

Greta prayed every night that her daddy would come and save her. Desperation exploded in her chest when she heard that her brother had been chosen. Hank clung tight to Greta and she to him, frantic to figure out how to keep him with her. That night, she got on her knees and prayed again. She prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before. 

Exhausted from weeping and praying, she crawled into bed long after the room had fallen into slumber. She awoke to the sounds of shouting and wood breaking. She thought she heard her father’s voice. She ran to the door and shouted back. 

Her father told her to stand back and then his axe was through the door and minutes later the children were free. Greta saw policemen swarming everywhere and heard words like child prostitution and solicitation being bandied about. She didn't know what they meant. She just knew they were bad words.

Tears flowing into the stubble that covered his cheeks, Greta and Hank's father wrapped his arms around his children. "I thought you were lost forever. Thank goodness I found you in time."

"Where is Miriam?" Greta asked, hoping she wasn't nearby.

"She is gone, and she won't ever be back. I am so sorry I didn't see her for who she was. I am so sorry she put you through this. It's all my fault."

The children assured him that it was okay. They understood that Miriam had fooled their father. She was very good at hiding her true nature.

Happy to be with their father, the trio clasped hands and went out of the house together. They went back to the tiny home at the edge of the woods, where they lived happily ever after.

Angela's Revenge

Angela’s Revenge

By Leslie Johnson

I stared at it - that crack in the sidewalk. It wasn’t there yesterday. But today there was a split in the concrete from one side to the other. I walked over, squatted down and ran my finger along the gap. It was rough but not sharp. I knew it was probably just a flaw, even when a shudder ran up my spine. I stood and moved back, still staring at the blemish.

            Bryce and I followed the instructions implicity. I was diligent, just like my dad when it came to DIY projects. Then I remembered a story he had told me one night not long ago. He wanted to build that sidewalk and I wanted to resurface the living room floor. 

My heart palpitated wildly in my chest as I recalled the memory. It was late at night. I lay wrapped in his arms as he talked about what his crazy mother had done. She had conjured a beast from below with her wicked magic he had told me seriously. He thought she had sealed in under the ground before she died, but he wasn’t sure. He thought a sidewalk would act as security - just in case. 

I sat up - looked him straight in the face and burst out laughing.  “Alright - we will do the sidewalk before the floor. Sheesh. You are such a baby.  Besides, your mother is still alive and I don’t think she’s even a little crazy.”

Now, I wasn’t so sure. There was something there and  - IT - wasn’t happy being locked beneath the surface. I shivered. What was I going to do? I called Bryce.

            When he answered, I whispered, “There’s a crack in the sidewalk.” 

            Silence.

            “Did you hear what I said?”

            Silence.

            “Bryce - are you there?”

            “Yes, I am here. What do you think it means?”

            “What do you mean - what do I think it means - are you serious? It’s your story… remember your mother…”       

“Okay, hang tight, babe. I’ll be home in an hour. I’ll check it out then. In the meantime, just chill and stay inside.”

            I hung up the phone and paced the floor. But I had to look again. I had to make sure it was still there. I walked to the back door and looked out at the sidewalk. The crack, was now a chasm. My heart stopped for a second and I nearly fell to the floor. 

            Turning, I ran to the phone and dialed Bryce again. “It’s grown, Bryce. The crack is twice as big as it was when I called you fifteen minutes ago.” I shrieked into the phone. “You have to come home now.”

            “Stay calm, Elly. I’ll be right there.”

I put the phone down slowly, afraid to leave the connection to the outside world. Then stealing myself for what was coming, I walked to the backdoor and looked out at the sidewalk again. One half of the cracked portion of sidewalk was upside down. Dirt and debris littered the bottom and I could see something moving in the freshly turned earth where it once lay.

My legs started shaking as my heart quivered. With trembling hands, I reached out to lock the door. The solid click of the bolt slamming home was small comfort. I needed to get out before that creature got free.

Panic rose and shortwired my brain. I ran around in circles looking for my purse, my cell phone and the keys to my car. By the time I was ready to leave, I could hear scratching at the back door. A little scream escaped my lips and I flew to the front door and yanked it open.

Down the steps I sailed, my bare feet barely touching the ground. I pulled open the car door, slipped inside. As I started the engine, I locked the doors. Throwing the car in reverse, I began backing out of the long driveway. Before I reached the street, Bryce pulled in behind me. I honked my horn, gesturing wildly for him to get out of the way. 

I watched him climb slowly out of his car and walked toward me. I rolled down the window, yelling at him to move his car. He kept walking toward me. I was bouncing in my seat, screaming and gesturing like a woman possessed. Bryce reached the car, placed his hands on the window ledge. Then he leaned inside and turned off the ignition. The locks automatically disengaged allowing him to pull the car door open.

“Come on, Elly. Get out of the car.”

I stared at him. Get out of the car? Didn’t he know what was back there? Surely, he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine we could conquer whatever it was that crawled out of the ground.

“Get out of the car, Elly. NOW!”

Frustrated at my immobility, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out.  “She’s come back for you, sweetheart. That’s why I need you.” He gripped my arm tighter, hauling me up the stairs and into the house. The scratching at the back door was louder, more violent. I tried to pull away but Bryce wasn’t letting go. I swung my arms wildly, trying to break free. He hit me with such force, I fell to my knees.

“Behave. She promised she would come back but I only half believed her. I thought the cement would keep her where she belongs. You are the only one she can take - she wants the one who wronged her. Since you were the other woman....”  He trails off leaving me with a million questions.

“Who are you talking about, Bryce? Angela - your ex-girlfriend? You told me she moved away. Oh gawd, did you do something to her?”

He didn’t answer as he ripped the cord off the nearby lamp and tied my leg together. I was too stunned to fight.

Once I was incapacitated, Bryce unlocked the backdoor and threw it open. He moved away, back into the living room so he could view the carnage but not be part of it. The beast shuffled in, grunting and snarling. My skin crawled when I caught sight of her. I tried to wiggle away but I only managed to fall over, where I was more helpless. Bryce laughed. “Stay put, Elly. It will all be over soon.”

Rage burned in my veins. If I could get loose, I was going to do some serious damage to that man. The beast got nearer and the stench of her made me gag. She drew up beside me, her dead eyes staring into mine. With surprising strength and dexterity she bent over, pulling me up. Holding me against her rotting flesh, she continued to walk into the living room, toward Bryce. He was smiling at her - at us. 

I tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she held tight. Drawing near to Bryce - he winked at her. “Hello, Angela. You look a little worse for wear, babe.” And that’s when it happened.

One minute she was holding me tight against her chest, The next, I was face down on the couch, listening to Bryce shrieking. The smacking of lips and the tearing of flesh was the only sound coming from across the room. The silence when it came, wasn’t welcome - it meant she was done with Bryce and I was next. 

I could smell her but I couldn’t see her. I felt her bony fingers touch the skin above my ankles. I shrieked and pulled my legs away. She grabbed hold and pulled them back. I kicked and struggled, but she held fast. I was soon out of breath and still she hung on. I went limp, hoping she would make it quick.

The wire around my feet fell away and soon my hands were free as well. I lay face down waiting for her to do her worst. The smell drifted away and I finally turned to see what was going on. 

I was alone. The house wasn’t destroyed, there was no blood or damage where Bryce had been sitting. I got to my feet and went to the back door. The sidewalk block was back in place. The only evidence to show I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing, was the disturbed dirt on top of the grass on either side - where the crack in the sidewalk marked her place.