“Mother will be fine,” the woodcutter stated, gently petting his daughter. Gretel wiped the tears from her eyes. He told himself that he would have to stay strong, at least for his father. The maid ran out of the room, her hands covered in blood and apparent worry hanging over her like the storm clouds outside. She whispered something barely audible and her father rushed in. He went out carrying a child in his arms but tears were streaming from his eyes. Her father handed her Hansel as he tried to tell her what had happened. Gretel understood this and accepted it as fate (better than most children her age would have done). He felt the heat radiating from Hansel, the same heat that kept his pain at bay. This happened 4 years ago. Gretel had now become a beautiful teenager. Her golden hair falling in curls around her face and mesmerizing pair of blue eyes were enough to sweep any boy away. Now he had a cruel and wicked woman for a stepmother. One night, Gretel woke up to hear her parents screaming at each other. He was careful not to wake Hansel as he slipped out of the room as silently as a mouse. “We can't abandon like this… I can't bear to say it! My blood and my flesh, wander alone in the woods. You know my story and my sister's story,” his father's croaky voice replied to an anonymous question. “Don't remind me of that story of yours about bulls and roosters. The decrease in food supplies says the opposite. Our neighbors have resorted to a far worse fate. They killed and fed their children. We are much better than those monsters! At least I see some reason in what I have to say. What will you do when we have no food or money?" "But she is the only one..." Daddy wanted to say something but decided again... in the middle of the paper... Soon... All your misery will vanish ", the witch murmured as she began to eat Gretel's heart. A new pain broke through Gretel's body, like a thousand swords pierced through her body. She was crying in pain, knowing she was going to die. The witch looked at the dying Gretel with joy. Green smoke engulfed both the witch and Gretel for a few seconds before dissipating into the morning air. The wrinkles on his flesh were gone, replaced by porcelain-white skin. She looked flawless, the witch thought to herself. He began to laugh in a form of cruel laughter at some unknown joke. She had done it... A feeling of personal accomplishment overwhelmed her. “See that mother, I got what I wanted.” The witch murmured, staring at the portrait of the woman in her witch's dress. In the glittering light, the faded letters spelled out the name: “Malaficiente".’.