I do not own the Brothers Grimm stories.

And this is not actually that anyway. Not quite.

The Wicked Witch in the Gingerbread House

Ever After

If the child were to consider, the witch seems less thin as of late.

Dress less baggy.

Ridges and lines of her wrinkled face softened, cutting less deeply than before.

Hair more iron grey now than snow white. And thicker.

Hands softer, warmer.

Warmer as they brush the child's hair smooth and silky with a wooden comb.

The witch does not speak, but her breath feels light and warm upon the child's neck.
As the hands brush firm and braid gentle.

The child fears to ask, but pushes through the barrier in her mind nevertheless.

"Will he return for me?"

Silence.

In which the cleansing rain patters down upon the shack.

Soaking the ground, washing away the dirt.

And the blood.

Silence in which the witch's tongue thoughtfully rubs the roof of her mouth.

Yellowed teeth scrupulously cleaned the previous night in the rain barrel outside the scullery.

And then she speaks.

"No. He is gone from you forever, child. You are safe."

The witch continues to brush and braid, fingers more dexterous than in recent years past.

Her heart beats stronger in her chest now, lungs breathe the woodland air easier.

And the world is expunged of one more heartless beast that once lurked and lapped at the spirits of an innocent child.

And then the child speaks.

"Thank you. Grandmother."

The witch allows it.

The days and nights come and go.

The world turns and the years pass.

In the protective, secret heart of the wood, there stands a candy-spelled house and a glade.

They work together, the girl and witch, the younger learning from the older.

All manner of skill, sewing, cooking, the healing of the body and mind through proper herbs and natural techniques.

The witch teaches the child to read and write and do maths in as such things as the world of man requires.

Provides tutelage for her lightly in regard to reproductive matters in as so far as she knows, when the child's body changes and grows and she becomes a woman of blood.

The child grows strong and confident, misery and grief of her darkest years dulling until they become more lesson than closely held wound.

The girl is beautiful but she is also practical.

And never ever cruel or unkind.

She will not live a perfect, flawless life.

Nor is she, as human, is meant to.

But she will live life and live it well as a carefully counseled Child of Nature.

And all due to . . .

"Farewell, Grandmother. You will always be of my heart and mind."

"As you to me, child. Fare thee well."

. . . the wicked witch in the gingerbread house in the woods.

And that's it for that tale.

Thanks to Dream Plane and the incomparable DinahRay for so graciously reviewing!

Thanks to the silent readers of this story.

Happy reading to all and to all a good night!