The Happy Moron

I’m trying out a little game I thought up. The game is to retell a fairy tale or children’s story while omitting one of the major characters.

This is Hansel and Gretel, and we’ve lost Hansel… just not in the woods. This is Part II. Part I. Part III. Part IV.

Little Gretel was exhausted. After a long, terrifying, confusing day, she wanted nothing more than for some grown-up person to take care of her and make things safe. And she was hungry – so very hungry!

To her it all seemed like a dream: the magical house, the old woman, and the invitation to supper.

If the old woman was lying about the quality of supper she promised to the little girl, then Gretel was not the one to notice or to say a word. She eagerly ate the food that the woman put before her. There was good, solid hot food.. with meat. It was a rarity, almost unknown to her, and she ate it eagerly.

And there were sweets. Cake and candy and other confectionary delights; Gretel ate them all, and ate, and ate, until at last she was satiated. When it became apparent that she could eat no more, the old lady told her that it was time for bed.

This was quite an agreeable notion for Gretel. At this point she was fit for very little else but going to bed, and when the old lady led her to a small room with a bed in the corner, she climbed right into it and immediately fell asleep.

When the old lady saw that the little girl was asleep, she put some water on to boil so that she could make herself some tea. When it was made, she sat in a rocking chair, and rocked, and thought, and drank her tea, sitting alone in the night while the girl slept.

The old woman was a witch, and she was deciding what to do with the little girl she had ensnared.

She usually ate children; in most circumstances she would not have thought long, and Gretel would have quickly found herself in a pot or in the oven. But these were not ordinary circumstances.

The witch was growing old and finding herself less capable than she used to be, and thought she might take a servant. She finally decided that Gretel was young enough that she could raise her as a successor.

Gretel awoke the next morning feeling stiff and sore. She got up and felt her bed; the bedding was big and fluffy and very soft, but she ached all over as if she had slept on something hard and lumpy.

She found the old woman in the kitchen, making porridge. The lady told her to come and eat. Gretel said shyly that no, she was very grateful for the woman’s kindness, but that she must go home to her parents. Did the old woman know the way back to the village.

“I’m afraid not,” said the crone. “I’m very old, you see, and I don’t get about much. But you are free to go, as you like.”

Gretel thanked the woman again, and said that yes, she should go. With that, she set off into the woods to find her village and her parents.

She walked for what seemed a very long time, until at last she saw a clearing int the woods. She started running eagerly towards it, only to reach it and discover… it was the same clearing that she had left! There was the same cottage… and in front of it was the old woman, holding a bowl of porridge.

“Back so soon, my dear?” enquired the old woman. “Here, have some breakfast.” She held out the bowl of porridge, offering it to Gretel.

Gretel was confused and a little frightened. She wanted to go home, and was starting to become afraid that she would not be able to go home. She didn’t know what would happen if she couldn’t find her way back. Gretel stood, mute, before the old woman. Little tears started to form, dribbling down her little cheeks.

“I can see you’re upset, my dear.” said the old woman. “Well, if you feel like eating…” The old woman bent down and placed the bowl of porridge on the steps of the cottage, before turning and going back inside.

Gretel looked at the porridge. She *was* hungry. She was about to go and pick it up, but then she stopped. A little robin had flown down to the steps of the cottage, and was pecking around the edge of the bowl. Not wanting to frighten the bird, she held very still. It was such a pretty little thing.

But if she was transfixed in wonder, it soon turned to horror, for as the bird took down a beakful of porridge, before her very eyes… it changed! The delicate robin was transformed into a monstrous crow: a horrible, croaking thing with hard black eyes that seemed to bore right through her. Gretel stifled a cry and ran back into the woods.

Gretel ran so very fast, trying to get away. She wanted to be home, safe from the strangeness and the terror of the woods and the cottage. She ran, and ran, but to no avail; for when she came, breathless, to a stop, she could see the clearing and the cottage right in front of her. So she turned around and went back the opposite direction, away from the cottage again… and once more found herself arriving at the very place she was trying to leave.

Gretel didn’t have the strength to cry. She realized now that she could not go home; there didn’t seem to be anything that she could do but go back to the cottage.

The crow was gone, but the porridge was still there, just as she had left it. Gretel looked at it; hungry as she was, she was not going to eat it. Still, she did not want to anger the old woman, so she emptied the bowl underneath the steps, and went back into the cottage.

The old woman was sitting in her rocking chair singing softly to herself when Gretel came in. She didn’t say anything or stop singing, but she just nodded quietly.

Gretel looked at the old woman and then at the empty bowl in her hand. Feeling very empty inside, she went quietly to the kitchen to wash her bowl and spoon.