Yummy !

WELL DONE 

 

'Get away from me, Mother! You're mean! I hate you!' I look, see her burning up in anger. Slap, slap, she whacks me across my face. Not a sound do I make. I'm used to her tantrums but that doesn't take away my misery, my aching bones.  I wait in silence for her to grab me by my ear and throw me out the door. The wait is not long.

 

The path to our house is made out of pebbles and broken shells. They hurt my feet, cut the soles and make them bleed, but I will not let the old witch see me cry. I run, run as fast as I can, and am saved. My brother, swinging his school books, is coming down the road. Without a 'hello' I swear to him that one day I will kill our mother and that day is getting closer and closer.

 

'So what's the problem, Gret?' What's different about today from all the rest?' To him I can cry and do it without trying. 'Did you know she didn't give me supper last night and only a slice of bread for breakfast? Do you have anything in your pocket left over from your lunch? I am so hungry my belly is playing mean music.' My brother hands me two broken graham crackers which isn't much but taste like apple pie to me.

 

'Come sit near me under the weeping willow, I am hurting for you. We can make a plan to fix her good. Want to try?' I jump for joy, dropping my few graham crumbs on the ground. What does mother like to do best in the world?'  I think out loud. 'She likes to be mean to me, to hit me, to starve me.' My brother thinks those things over, stares at me and asks, 'Gret, doesn't she like to bake so you smell the good things, but  gives you none? You hate her and I hate her for being so mean to you. I am going to take her for a long walk and let her get lost in the woods. Maybe she'll find her way out, but she isn't too  smart, is she?'

 

My dear brother tells me to go in the house, don't even talk to our mother. 'Watch out the window in her kitchen and when you see Mother and me out of sight, you come out and follow our footsteps. I am going to take her to the family bakery, let her start to bake her cookies and then hide. Be very quiet. She must not suspect what I am going to do.' He leaves me there, worried, frightened but sure he will do what he says he will do.

 

It is almost dark when I finally see Mother and my brother go into the family bakery. I drool when I smell the cookies. The front door opens and my brother comes out. He is holding hands with a huge gingerbread lady he baked just for me. She is flat, steaming hot. Her apron and cap are flat too.

 

My brother asks me if he did the right thing and I say, 'Hans, you are a truly wonderful brother. Thank you. Let's go home and eat all of the cool cookies.'