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Come, children, and listen,

for the story I tell holds a lesson.

A lesson that might one day keep you safe.

So, gather in close and hear me well.

It's the story of the Beautiful Child

with the little pink cap.

Her birth was a gift to her mother and father

in a time of great suffering and famine.

All in the village agreed

she was the most beautiful child.

But an illness fell upon her,

and it was predicted

that her first winter would be her last.

Her father was not one to take such tidings passively,

and whispers told of an enchantress

with the power to cure any ailment.

All that was required was for her father to be brave

and to trust the darkness.

And he was,

and he did.

But when that enchantress took away the illness,

she left in its place a gift.

It came to be that the child had been granted Second Sight.

Everyone thought they wanted her to read their futures,

but then no one wanted to hear what she saw.

For it is only the bitter end

that comes for everyone, anyway.

And she herself made sure of that.

For it was soon clear...

...that she was powerful in other ways, too.

It seemed she would spare no one.

Not even her own father,

who, for her, had sacrificed so much.

And so, it was ordered

that the child be returned to the darkness that made her.

She was hidden away, deep in the woods,

all alone,

with no one to play with.

But still, she had her own way

of making friends.

So, children, please, beware of gifts.

Beware of those that offer them.

And beware of those who are only too happy to take them.

Fairy tales have a funny way

of getting into your head.

I don't remember where I was, or when,

that I first heard the story

of the Beautiful Child in her little pink cap.

Just feels like I've always known it.

I wonder how someone gets

their own fairy tale told about them.

And if I'd even want that.

You have to go through a lot of terrible trouble.

Then most the time, some prince appears

and wakes you up anyway.

But I don't see any princes around here.

There's only my little brother.

He follows me wherever I go,

and I have to share everything with him.

But at least he's mine.

Why are you wearing that?

I'm going to meet with John Stripp.

And his wife, if he has one.

Mother imagines he needs a housekeeper.

But why are your lips so strangely colored?

Okay.

If I should ever see so much as a crumb of cake,

you'll be the first to know.

Okay?

Do you read?

Uh... No. Though, I am able to bake and launder.

Your father was a farmer, yes?

Was, yes.

He's gone ahead to his reward.

Uh, Mother's alone now, and does what she can.

I should think she can do precious little

till this terrible pestilence is lifted.

Some say the lands are cursed.

Only with the incompetence of men,

as so much of everything is.

And really, it's the whole system that's so absurd.

I mean, senselessly, we owe crop to some bishop,

and we're not even permitted to feed our own...

You will do well to limit the number of words

that come out of your mouth.

Yes, sir.

Do something nice for a poor, old man, won't you?

Try saying "milord" instead.

Yes...

milord.

That's a good girl.

I think you'll find our guests will prefer it.

Now, I have something to ask you.

Have you kept your maidenhood?

I beg your pardon?

You may beg all you want,

but my question remains.

Are you...

intact?

What if I had reached across and slapped him?

Would my palm have stung with pride?

Would I have felt nothing?

Would it have killed you to smile at the man?

To just say "thank you"?

He didn't need a housekeeper.

You can't stay here, Gretel.

Why not?

Because there isn't enough room.

This place is too crowded with ghosts.

Hungry ghosts,

of everything now gone.

Your father's sits right there.

And mine will be here soon enough.

You shouldn't talk like that.

You'll take your brother, and make haste to the convent.

Throw yourself at the boots of the sisters,

and pray they take you in.

Hansel will never be offered admittance at a convent.

And I would never ask to be admitted.

Then the two of you can start work

digging your sweet, little graves.

Gretel.

When you and your brother take up your shovels...

dig a hole for Mommy, too.

Be gone!

Or I'll hack you into tiny, little pieces.

I pulled my brother from his bed,

and together, we fled the only home we'd ever known.

The door slammed at our backs,

and the big, bad world opened up in front of us...

like a terrible mouth.

Hmm. You ought to have gone with the man in the house.

Quiet about things you don't know.

Why do you always do that?

I don't always do anything. I'm not a clock.

You make trouble.

You would've had your own room.

You would've seen a crumb of cake sooner or later.

Nothing is given without something else

being taken away.

When can we go back to Mother?

Remember the widow, Hayes,

who used to give Father eggs before her chickens got sick?

She lives just up ahead.

Perhaps she can give us a bed.

How do your eyes see that far?

I don't have to see things to know that they're there.

Are you sure a woman lives here?

I'm sure a woman used to live here.

Doesn't smell like a woman lives here.

Quiet.

And be glad for the roof over our heads.

Well, not exactly an iron maiden.

Come on, then.

You think Mother's all right?

I think she's all right

as long as we're all right.

Gretel,

will we be all right?

If I've got a voice in the matter.

Brother!

Gretel! Help! Get it off me!

Hey!

Oh, but not really.

You've been turned out of your home, I'll wager.

Set out to fend for yourselves

with only your clothes and your hides,

which aren't much.

I have an axe.

Oh.

I must say, it hides very well in your shadow, young man.

I mean I have an axe at home.

Be quiet.

I'll be happy to direct you to foresters.

Good people.

Plentiful coin. Food, if you can earn it.

They will hand you a new axe,

and show you how to make it work like one.

You, girl,

will learn the ways of the herbs and the earth.

Lest the men of the world find a more obvious use for you.

Pray, sir, what might we offer you in return for the meal?

I mean, you would've eaten it if not for us.

I don't have a taste for rabbit.

What do you want from us, then?

You have nothing I need or want.

"For kindness is its own reward.

"But cruelty is a self-inflicted wound.

"The wicked earn a living by deception,

"but the one who plants righteousness

"gathers a true harvest.

"Indeed, those who do what is right

"will live a good life.

"Those who pursue evil will die."

But everyone dies.

Indeed. But not right now.

Take your fill, and perhaps

you'll allow me to draw you each a bath.

The boy here is so filthy,

he could pass for compost

if it not for the whites in his eyes.

Is it safe to trust someone

who appears exactly when you need them?

Or does it feel too much like they've been lying in wait,

coiled like a serpent?

Keep west for two full days and nights.

Keep to the path I've drawn for you,

and you'll find what you're looking for.

Stray from it, and you can expect to meet wolves.

And if you do, don't stop to talk to them.

They're very charming and handsome,

but make terrible conversation.

Why couldn't we stay

where we were with the huntsman?

If he'd wanted children,

I suspect he would've made some of his own.

"Made" them? Out of what?

Must I explain all of everything?

But Mother didn't make us.

We was brought in through her window by birds.

You're right, Hansel.

What a fool I've been all this time.

All finished?

Yes, and I'm still hungry.

Only the natural result of eating so much.

Oh.

Do you remember Father very much?

No, not very much.

Tell me the fairy tale again.

The one about the Beautiful Child

with the little pink...

Not right now.

It's too scary, and you'll start

seeing things that aren't there.

Some things that probably are.

It isn't scary for me.

And it helps me go to bed.

Gretel, I'm scared.

There's nothing and nobody out there.

Gretel.

I always try to tell my mother

that I can see things,

like I was dreaming when I was awake.

But she always told me to keep it to myself,

and that little girls should never...

What in hell are you doing?

Practicing for when we meet the foresters.

And you said "hell."

Hey!

All this practice is making an unnecessary racket!

I'm sorry.

I'm hungry.

I'm hungrier than you are.

Because you're a pig.

You're a bigger pig.

You're right. I am.

When do we eat again?

Gretel?

Gretel, I'm starving.

Looks like a mushroom.

Yes. But they're as different

from one another as people are.

This one might be unfriendly.

How to tell?

Suppose we might ask them.

Well, anyhow, here we all are

and pleased to make your acquaintance.

We've been without food for too long now.

And to be completely frankly honest and open about it,

we were thinking of,

very seriously, of supping, well,

on you.

So tell me if you will, strange little things,

are you kind, or no?

What did it say?

Strange as it might be, I think she said, "Eat me."

Follow me.

Come and find me.

Follow me, sister.

Gretel,

is that there?

If it isn't, neither are we.

Do you smell that?

Gretel, it smells of cake!

Hey.

Let go of me!

Gretel, it smells of cake,

and I'm unable to resist.

Gretel, I need food.

Stay where I can see you.

They have a slide.

Yet I don't see any children.

It also smells of bacon, you know.

Look in through the window or something.

Well?

What is there?

Only heaven.

What?

Gretel, look and see!

Hansel.

Brother!

You must be the sister I've heard so much about.

Careful with that, dear.

I'd hate for you to start something you can't stop.

We never intended to steal from you, missus.

"Missus"? Think I'm married?

See you a ball and chain at my heel?

But tell me how you came to be in my woods,

and so charmingly unchaperoned.

Our mother has come upon hardship.

Usually the first thing a mother comes upon.

My sister won't go to the convent.

Be quiet.

I very much doubt that a convent is the place

for a girl with action in her bones,

even if there's hardly any meat on those action bones.

Aren't you expecting guests?

Guests? I'd rather have roaches.

Just checking,

to be sure you're not crawling with louses

before you put your heads on any pillows of mine.

Ouch!

You're clean enough.

Now, eat.

And rest.

Beds have already been made up for you.

Thank you.

But really,

we'll stop briefly but we must be on our way.

Milk,

good for bones.

A hair here, a hair there.

My eyes too big for my stomach, obviously.

And your mouth is too big for your mouth, obviously.

My mother, she killed me.

My mother, she ate me.

Oh, what a pretty bird am I.

Oh, what a pretty bird am I.

Oh, what a pretty bird am I.

No!

Your breakfast.

No morning beasts for you, my pretty?

Oh, no, thank you, ma'am.

She can keep all the world's vegetables,

while I eat only meat and grow strong like an ox.

She'll grow strong enough.

Just as the ox, with his vegetable-made bones,

pulls the cart and the fat man who sits atop it.

Well, another one bites the dust.

May I not help you with that?

What's this, dear?

Only to say surely in exchange for your generosity,

I might offer to be the one

out of the two of us to get down on the ground.

Now, that's a new idea.

I can bake and launder,

uh, turn down beds,

or tend to any, um, animals that might need tending.

And I can chop wood.

- He can learn. - Well, I could.

Typically I'm not in the habit of employing children,

but in this case it does seem a fair trade.

Only until we set off again

to find a thing more permanent.

We'll be working with the foresters soon.

Well, it's beginning to appear

the foresters will have to wait a while.

Finders keepers.

The sliding door to your right.

Lyes and vinegars on that shelf.

Soap from animal fat, just there.

And the blade high like this,

then lay it down easy.

Very good.

Once you've gotten the hang of it,

you can move on to the others in the shed.

My, my. Aren't you handsome.

Nothing to sneeze at.

Even with the heat of your blushing,

you have the onset of a chill.

Here, let me show you something.

Licorice root, garlic, calendula,

usnea lichen, yarrow flower, milkvetch,

and finally, cat's claw.

Ah.

Here.

What?

You drink it.

Oh, I don't...

Tomorrow you will be a new girl.

If not tomorrow, then soon enough.

In any case, you will have taken a first step.

The foul smell is only an ugly gatekeeper

in front of the palace of wonders.

Stop with him at the gates, or see what goes on inside.

You're coming with me!

Idiot trees.

You'll get the hang of it.

Always remember,

the king is afraid, and he should be.

Because the queen can do whatever she wants.

Gretel,

it's naked.

Your go.

- There's a storm coming. - There isn't.

Be quiet.

I was out all day.

I know what rain clouds look like, and there was none.

In any case,

I brought your axe in for you just to be safe.

How'd you know?

Because women often know things

they're not supposed to.

Don't we, Gretel?

Gretel's not a woman.

Oh, no? And if not?

What?

Is she a snake? A frog?

A pig?

Don't look at us.

Don't look at us here.

Down in our hole in the ground.

We've gotten old down here.

Don't look at us.

Don't look at us here.

Down in the ground.

We've gotten old down here.

Don't look at us.

Don't look at us.

Don't look at us.

Were the dreams I was having

only the result of too much rich food before bed?

Were they a message?

A warning?

Was I now missing a chance to listen to myself?

Hey.

We'd be wise to leave before outstaying our welcome.

What?

Leave?

Yes.

And continue on to the foresters,

like we said we would.

We've found work to be done here.

You probably noticed the food.

There's something wrong here.

But it's so pleasant.

But tell me what hides behind that pleasantness.

There are things here, bad things.

What bad things?

The abundance, for one.

What's that mean?

It means "too much."

There's too much, and it isn't right.

Where are the animals?

From where does she draw milk?

From where does she conjure up her endless parade of cakes?

There are souls trapped in this house, or under it.

But why do you always see a problem?

Something behind or under? Something hidden?

Because the big, bad world is what it is.

We're safe now from the world. Isn't that what you want?

Perhaps tomorrow you can send me for supplies.

Mother says I have an eye for good produce.

That won't be necessary.

Plums only keep for three days out of season.

And that ham is unsalted. It must be going bad.

And yet, it isn't.

Yes!

Hansel, Gretel.

Come across an old one, have you?

One that's had too much to drink.

You'll find another in the cupboard in the hall.

Towards the back.

When you've found it, let me show you something.

The thought in your head is,

"Go look in the shed."

You'll find saws to be sharpened

for the bones of the dead.

The thought in your head is, "Go look in the shed."

You'll find saws to be sharpened

for the bones of the dead.

What eats with its teeth, but never feels fed?

Are you having dreams?

On some nights.

On some nights, I don't sleep at all.

Awake,

listening to the woods?

Good.

The air is swirling with abundance.

One need only reach out and pluck it.

This is your power,

to see what is hidden and to take it.

A small mind believes only what it can see.

Carves out a little square,

waits to be taken,

never wondering what governs its fate.

But we know that we are our fate's own masters, don't we?

Those like me and those like you,

we commune with the Great Provider.

She gives us the seeds of abundance,

and we grow them in our garden.

We harvest it, and with it,

we impart justice.

You say "we," but I've not agreed to anything.

It's not for you to agree or disagree, my pretty.

It's already inside of you.

You can either stay asleep to it...

or let it wake up.

Now,

the salve.

I see it likes you.

Now, tell it what to do.

"Tell it"?

You've talked to things before. I know you have.

What can it do?

It can do more than just lie there like spilled milk.

You decided to wake it up, after all.

But how did it...

Think less, my pretty, and know more.

Go ahead.

It awaits its master.

The bones of the dead.

The bones of the dead.

The bones of the dead.

Have another bite, won't you?

I don't want another bite.

Even if it bit me, I wouldn't bite it back.

But it's your favorite, my little champion.

I even stuffed the crust.

And it'll be here again tomorrow,

as sure as the sun,

and with even less explanation.

Quiet. You're being rude.

Now bite your tongue and eat your food.

What do you do with her all day?

She teaches me.

Things that could save my life,

that could make my life.

She's not our mother, you know.

It's true, she isn't.

She has much to give.

You wouldn't understand. There are many gifts here.

You always say there aren't any gifts in this world.

That nothing is given without something taken away.

So, tell me this,

what is she taking?

I'm scared now,

and I want to go home.

I wanna see Mother.

We both know there's nothing there.

But gifts?

Are you forgetting?

Forgetting to be afraid of gifts?

I'm not.

What about the story?

"Once upon a time, a girl was born."

It's not like that.

But "all in the village agreed

"that she was the most beautiful child."

You'd do well to shut your mouth.

"It came to be that she was touched with the gift of..."

Fall quiet, boy.

For I shall write my own story.

Gretel.

You wanna leave?

Let me show you how.

Gretel! Don't leave me!

Gretel!

Follow me.

Surely, that had only been a nightmare.

The desire to be rid of him was very real.

But to send him off alone into the night,

that could never be true.

Hansel?

He's out sulking,

blaming the strength of the trees

for his own weakness.

He's a little boy.

Even the littlest pebble makes it difficult to travel

once it gets its way into your boot.

You've taken him on as a burden.

But last night you shrugged it off.

Did I?

Didn't you?

You're not his mother.

And still, you don't remember

the last time you couldn't be sure

of where your little boy could be.

He shouldn't be off on his own.

Maybe not.

But you definitely should be.

I ought to go to bed,

to be up with the sun to search for my brother.

An excellent plan.

But I do fear a restless night ahead.

Might you prepare for me something to help me sleep?

I'll fix you a sleeper. She always does the trick.

You'll sleep like a baby...

If the baby has just got into her mother's sleepers.

Yes.

Thank you.

Careful with a sleeping draft.

A leaf or a twig this way or that,

you get a very different mixture.

A soup of nightmares.

Well, good night, then.

Come on now. This is no place for you.

Come now and look at me.

It didn't matter anymore

if I dreamt it or really lived it.

The horror of what I had seen under the house

was proof of what I already knew.

All I could do now was keep calm and play dumb,

only for long enough to outsmart her.

Disturbing night, was it not?

Did you feel the wind coming down from the hills

rattling all the windows facing east?

I suppose I didn't.

Desired result of my sleeping draft, I'm sure.

You saw there's fresh milk?

I saw.

Yum.

Any sign of our little runaway?

No, none.

Well, I'll keep a nose and an ear out.

You're going somewhere?

It's not regular that nature calls out to me,

but when she does, I try to answer.

Mind the kettle, would you?

Fix me a cup of tea for when I'm back.

That'd be nice.

And leave the food out.

Maybe I'll want to bite something later.

Bless the day if you dare

to desire to be born again.

I've been thinking,

maybe it's for the best that Hansel isn't with us.

Isn't?

He'll soon come to fear you,

as all men should if they're smart.

And fear so easily turns to hatred.

Better that he remember you as you were,

rather than as you're meant to be.

With all that you're showing me,

will I one day be very powerful?

You will be.

Will I have mastery and dominion over everything?

Nearly everything.

We must accept our weaknesses.

Have you one? A vulnerability?

Only that which has taken a part of me.

Only that which has taken a part of you.

And to you it will be a poison.

And so you must consume it,

lest it consume you first.

Consume poison?

How else will one develop an immunity?

But the thing about poison

is that out of everything in the big, bad world,

nothing tastes as sweet.

What did you do with my brother?

I am only moving him out of your way.

He's all I have in this world.

Say that again and I will turn your tongue into a flower,

to remind you of how pretty and dumb,

temporary, you've chosen to be.

Or you may follow the path that I've lit for you.

Do whatever you want with me,

but only if you free him.

I could never do that.

But why not?

Because that little boy is your poison.

All that is left is to make him delicious.

You can't.

My dear,

I can't remember a time

when there was anything else I cared to do.

I envy you,

standing at the threshold of your own experience,

with everything ahead of you.

To be young again.

A nice balance.

I admire the application.

But more than anything

it leaves me curious as to why,

why you would try to put me to sleep

when there is so much to be done.

I won't do what you want me to do.

I'm nothing like you.

We are made from the same matter,

the same filth.

Otherwise, how would you know my story

without me having to tell it to you?

Your story?

We were given the same gift,

the same magic...

just as she was,

with her little pink cap.

How do you know my s...

I know that's your favorite story,

but you have been telling it wrong.

It's true,

she was a most beautiful child,

and everyone could see that.

But on the inside,

she was rotten to her core

and as sweet as vinegar.

Even I hated her,

and I was her mother.

Because from me, she took everything.

And would have destroyed me too,

if I didn't get rid of her first.

So I gave her back to the darkness

that had made her,

and thought that would be the end of it.

But I was wrong.

She stayed with me.

In my thoughts, in my dreams, attached to me like my shadow,

promising me a taste of the powers that she had.

All that was required was for me to be brave

and to trust the darkness.

And I was,

and I did.

And like she had done,

I rid myself of all other attachments.

I cleared my plate.

I ate my children.

So hungry was I to realize my own powers,

I hardly even chewed.

I assumed a disguise of old age

to make myself seem kind and weak.

I built for us a house,

one with a proper kitchen and a dining room.

I could name them all if ever I had to.

There was a Thomas and an Isabella,

a darling William

and a precious Elizabeth,

a Harry and a Sarah,

a Paul, a Kate.

And now, just for you,

a Hansel.

Only rid yourself of him and embrace your powers.

Such a sweet boy.

Sweet and plump, and fair.

Where is he?

Where is my brother?

So stay a while, won't you?

Who knows, you might even enjoy it.

I only hope you're hungry.

Bedtime for you,

little darling.

Go and kiss your sister good night.

Brother, hear me.

I know you're in there. I'm going to get you out.

Even though you are blinded, you'll see my face again.

That is my forever promise to you.

That's enough.

Now up to bed.

There's a good boy.

What a world.

Hansel, hold!

Hansel!

Gretel.

Quiet now.

You're all right.

And you will be, just as long as I got a voice in it.

But what about her?

She doesn't live here anymore.

Gretel, you're scared.

What of?

Of the world?

No...

only of myself.

You will always have a part of me, brother.

A part of myself that you have not taken,

but that I have given to you gladly.

It will go with you when you leave.

When I leave?

Without you?

Yes.

The single story that we shared now splits in two,

and we take forking paths.

Yours will lead you to what you need to find.

Mine will carry me up.

I told him to take good care of you.

He'll see to it that you arrive safely.

Gretel, you'll see my face again.

But anyway, where is he taking me?

Letting him go wasn't hard to do.

If he's going to find his way,

I can't very well be standing in it,

just as he shouldn't stand in mine.

I could see she was right about that at least.

Let him find his own story,

and his own courage to live it...

...just as I now go on to live mine.

I have my own power to nurture.

I'll help it to grow,

and trust that I'll know what to do with it.

I know that the choice is mine.

I could feed it darkness, or give it plenty of light.

I looked, and I saw,

and I understood.

The captor now gone and her fires all put out,

they were free to go...

and be at peace.

And I was free.

To go and never look back,

or stay to build something new

on top of everything that had been destroyed.

I knew my path would reveal itself,

and that all was required for me was to be brave

and to trust myself.

And I am brave.

And I will trust myself.

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