On the cold, late autumn evening, when the snow was as cold and merciless, as in any winter...
For any child, lost in the woods
a warm house was a miracle in itself.
Especially, when your garments are dump from the snow and rain together and your fingers are turning blue from the cold even underneath your thick woollen mittens.
A house made out of warm bread and candies, with a sweet fragile granny as an owner was a fairytale came true.
A happy little song to comfort you and a generous offer to fill your little bellies, that are starting to ache from hunger, are beyond even that.
You reach for offered bits and almost touch, but something prompts you turn around. You meet wide, almost scared eyes of the little boy. Your little brother, who played in the woods with you until it was too dark to find your way back home.
You feel guilty and pick him up, allowing him to choose the first piece. He hesitates, but then compiles and you lower him to stand comfortably on the porch as you join his happy munching.
Doughnuts and cookies and cakes taste like fairytale, and you pick some more, thanking the granny again and again, as you both lick your fingers, sticky with thick, creamy sugar.
She smiles and ushers you into the house, because it's too dark outside. And inside is so warm and cozy, and dollies everywhere are so pretty, that it's better, than any fairytale.
Too bad, you forgot, how that fairytale went.
It's warm and bright and then it's dark and cold all of a sudden. The granny doesn't change at all, as you shiver, but her smile does. Her voice is as sweet and thick, as dripping frosting, when she tells, you will return her favour in kind.
Because
you are
just
sweet enough
to fill her own belly.
She leaves, probably to some kind of backroom — you only hear hinges of the inner door screech horribly, accompanied by some foul smell wafting to where you stand.
You scratch and pound on the outer door, that doesn't want to open anymore, turning into hard, merciless wood. It doesn't feel like the host is coming back too soon — she isn't in a hurry, after all. Why would she be?..
You are trapped.
You wail and look around the room, searching for something, anything desperately with wide open horrified eyes.
She may be not in a hurry, but you are, you suddenly remember, as you feel your brother's small hand, wet and cold, shivering in your grasp strongly enough to slip out of your grip on it's own the very next moment.
You catch it again and hold him close.
He doesn't cry, making small, pitiful noises instead, and your resolve hardens.
You have to escape.
You touch the door again with your free hand, feeling along it's surface carefully, looking for any, any any... chance.
Some invisible clock tick away precious seconds in the dark, your brother tremble and tremble, and you feel nauseous. The sugar from the cookies you've eaten before, leaves a bitter, disgusting aftertaste in your mouth. Your belly is going to ache so much.
Or hers would.
No, you can't give up,
you have to proceed. Your brother sniffles and moves to help. His tiny fingers can't do much, but you don't have any thought to spare.
That's when you find it. A tiny hole, that either of you had poked earlier, when breaking off especially mouthwatering bit at the host's encouragement.
Your hope sparkles and you dig your fingers right into this spot.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Using as much force, as you can.
Your fingers bleed, catching long, brown splinters.
You hear footsteps coming, and your little brother slams his body into yours in fear and whimpers about how his tummy hurts and how scared he is. Looking at you, begging for help.
Something breaks in you
You hit the door again, with your fists and your chest, and your very heart.
That's the door that breaks next.
You clutch your brother's hands and you both run, just as backroom door screeches open once again in the darkness.
You run, you run and run.
There's no scream, no growl in the night air, but you feel like the darkness is still chasing you.
Until it doesn't
and the silver light of the moon is bathing the safe forest clearing.
You escaped.
You scoop a handful of white, pure snow and eat some, washing away the sickening sweetness in your mouth. You will never beg your parents for sweets again.
You toss the rest of the snow at your brother and you both laugh, giddy with relief, fingers on your other hands still intertwined tightly.
And here you are again, laughing and running under the silver moonlight after having a scary fairytale adventure no one is gonna to believe you about.
You laugh and joke, and toss the snow at each other, but then you stop and turn and look.
What's the matter? You are safe, your brother is safe, your home is near. You escaped.
But wait, just wait a second.
Have you always had a brother?..
