Gingerbread

The sky was the same dismal grey as it always had been. The thick swirling mist high over the rundown village easily watered out the supposed sunlight into a pale and dreary glow despite it being closer to noon. It made the world appear as though it was forever trapped in some sort of dismal, monogram filter. However, this was common. Standard actually. Every day was the same: monotonous and dim. But everyone had long since gotten used to it. They would hardly even cast a weary eye upwards to the heavens anymore, even by chance. They preferred to keep their eyes trained to the ground crunching beneath their old shoes, or more usually glancing this way and that to keep their eye safely trained on things… on everyone else. It was a habit long since established by years of practice. People needed to be watched. It was a highly well-known yet unspoken rule in the village. You must keep an eye on everyone. Never let them out of your sight. Never lose track of them. And never, ever go into the woods. Especially alone. Especially at night. It was harder to keep watch under those circumstances.

At least, that was what the villagers always reasoned within themselves. Some speculated that this tradition was actually encouraged by the “protectors”. Every day, every day, they would stalk across the heavy, thick cement walls that surrounded the village painted the same stony grey, grey color as the rest of the world. Their prim, starched, and terribly grey uniforms blended in perfectly with the whitewashed sky from their position high above them. They were always keeping watch… for the sake of peace. Everyone must be seen. Everyone must be accounted for. No one must be let out. No one must leave, and by absolutely no circumstances was anyone to go missing. Such outlandish claims were nothing but mere speculations and rumors created from frenzied minds or desperate calls for attention. The grey protectors would make certain of that outcome. There was no other explanation to be had. After all, they were always keeping a careful eye out. Everyone was being watched. Everyone was… safe.

Everyone wanted to believe it to. Those walls were… for safety. Those guards were… for safety. Those looming grey clouds… for safety. The occasional screams heard in the early mornings when they found another empty bed, the tattered shawl wrapped around cold bony arms, the wary eyes of the new motherless villager, the dried lips trembling around their rationed corn, the dirt smeared boots as they solicited to house after house after house in search… in search of… nothing. Because nothing was wrong. Not in village 11. Not in village 3. Not in village 9. Not in any village. Everything was okay now. Everything was safe. Everything was fixed. Everything was perfect. Thanks to the separation.

And some did believe that. Maybe not really, but they would still convince themselves hard enough to believe it. They chose to. What else did they have to hold on to either way? This was simply the way things were. The children especially were complacent to this fact. They knew no different. What was life like outside of the village and beyond those grey cement walls? Well, as far as they knew, it was world of chocolate bars. It was full of silver screens and sugared treats. It was as real as neverland. Therefore, not real at all. Simply a pipe dream to keep their fragile hopes as cozy and warm as spiced gingerbread. That was the world they lived in. That was the world of Village 11. That was the world of Hansel and Gretel.

The two were currently sitting just on the edge of town and right up against the grey, grey wall on the eastern point. Hansel was busy tying together some dried straw into makeshift rope but was struggling to keep the stray dust out of his eye with how often he rubbed at it due to lack of sleep. Gretel was having a bit of a better time, frivolously spending it drawing figures into the earth at the edge of her worn shoe with a twisted stick. Both were a bit underdressed for the chilly weather, though you couldn’t really blame them. It was all they owned after all. Their clothes were tattered, loose from over wear, dirty, and dimmed like the rest of the world, but they wore it as easily as a second skin. It was the same type of clothing that everyone else in the village wore. They had long since become used to it.

“Gretel, are you going to help me or just continue off in your own little world again?” Hansel protested with a little more spite in his tone then he meant. Another dust particle had strayed into his eye again causing quite the spike of agitation.

“Hold on Hansel, I’m almost done!” she retorted back louder than necessary, but such a volume was common for Gretel.

“What are you even drawing anyway? Ugly mutant bullfrogs?” he jested back.

She punched his arm at his blatant insult. “No! Are you blind?! It’s obviously a sugarplum castle. You know, like from the story mom told us about the other day. Here look, you can even see the princesses with their beautiful princess gowns on the balcony.”

She pointed adamantly at her messy sketch, but Hansel barely even spared it a glance. “Yeah, whatever. Just help me out already so we can go home earlier. Mom will be worried if we’re not back before it gets dark. We only came out here to try and find some mushrooms anyways, but of course there’s only this stupid old dirt,” he said with an agitated kick towards the ground, “just our luck.”

“Do you ever think that one day I’ll be able to wear a dress like them?” Gretel said dreamily while clearly ignoring everything he was saying.

Hansel glared at her as if she just grew a second head, “What’s got into your mind this time? What? Did you forget your label? You know such things are impossible for marked kids like us. Don’t be such an air head. Just get over here already and help me out.”

Begrudgingly Gretel sauntered her way over but sat down indignantly at his side with her chin in the air to display her utmost distaste. He just rolled his eyes at her excessive dramatics and roughly tossed the end of the rope towards her so she could wind it up into a bundle. The two worked in silence for a little while before Gretel decided to venture out a reasonable retort, “It’s not impossible if I ask Sillius to bring me one,” she tried.

Hansel merely scoffed. “Yeah, and pay him back with what? Your ratty hair?” he mocked while letting a hand stray to tug roughly on one her brown braids.

“Ow!” she screamed though he never pulled too hard. Another rough punch was dealt against his arm. “You never know! He brings all sorts of the things from the city outside of the wall! I could find something to trade with him for someday. Or maybe I’ll even be able to make lots of money.”

He tried to hold back yet another scoff, “Please, you’re too oblivious to ever find something rare enough to trade and no one here in the village makes any good money. If it were that easy, dad would have come home years ago.”

Still, Gretel pouted, “Doesn’t mom have that stupid heart locket thing though? What if I just sold that? The guards are always willing to take anything of value. I know I could get at least something from it.”

“Just because mom won’t let you have the locket doesn’t make it stupid,” he said with a slight sigh before dropping the frayed rope for a moment, “and you know how she feels about it. It’s her only memory from back home.”

“Whatever that means,” Gretel gave with a careless sigh. She’d heard the story a thousand times: mom growing up in the extravagant city only be placed in Village 11 when she did… something. Gretel didn’t really know the details. They never talked about that part. For now, mom was just this crazy old woman who spent her time nervously staring out grey windows and rubbing her knuckles sore with worry anytime they were gone for longer than an hour.

Ridiculous, she thought while pilling another section of rope into a line. Everything was fine. They have the walls, the protectors, the separation. She didn’t understand why her mom was constantly beside herself with useless worry while clutching that stupid metal locket like a lifeline. There was nothing to worry about while inside the wall, nothing to be afraid of. At least, that’s what she learned through those giant posters up on the central tower now that she had finally learned how to read the bolded letters. Peace will always last. Thanks to the separation. It was futile to question it.

“But she doesn’t need it,” Gretel protested, “The thing’s useless. I don’t see why I can’t have it.”

Hansel sighed again while winding together some loose ends, “What’s useless is entertaining dreams of sugarplum castles and princess dresses,” he said sternly but with enough compassion in his voice that Gretel felt like she couldn’t argue against him, “Look at us. We’ll never be able to afford any of that stuff, with or without Sillius. It’s better to just stick to our lot in life and keep our head down. You don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself here. It’s considered bad luck.”

Gretel continued to pout, “You never let me do anything.”

Hansel laughed slightly before roughing up the top of her head a bit with his hand, “I never let you do anything dumb. I keep you safe.” Safe from what? Everyone is safe now. Thanks to the separation.

But Gretel didn’t get her chance to ask him before Hansel finished tying the end of the rope and began lugging the whole thing over his skinny shoulder, “Besides,” he continued with a short huff from the effort, “we all know you would waste whatever money you might get on Sillius’ candy and cakes rather than some frilly dress.”

Rather insulted, Hansel managed to walk a few feet away before Gretel could scrounge together good enough retort. In a hurry, she scrambled to her feet and chased after Hansel with her fraying wicker basket swinging haphazardly on her arm, “Well, wouldn’t you?” she called back as they made their way home on the dusty road that led to the only town found within miles. The tall and grey walls made certain that it was impossible to get lost, but Gretel grasped Hansel’s stretched out hand anyways as was custom when walking anywhere within in Village 11.

It’s so you don’t stray too far, her mom had once told her, it’s not good if you don’t follow the path. The protectors will see you if you wander too far. So, you must never get lost. Don’t bring attention to yourself. It’s bad luck.

But there is no harm in it, Gretel thought stubbornly. Walking in the woods, staying up past dark, nabbing old lockets when mother wasn't looking, or even dreaming of princess castles; they were all fine. She would be safe either way.

Thanks to the separation.