Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
But no well would be deep enough. There aren’t enough buckets in the world, or hands to carry them, to protect every inch.
The wildfire came from the forest. It tore through the fields, destroying every last crop. It’s hard to deny that we brought the famine. It was on everyone’s mind, I’m sure. The witch wasn’t dead and her curse would never be forgotten.
The small town sifted through the ashes, looking for seeds, or new growth. Anything that would serve as a sign we were meant to live. That we could recover. Two unlucky years surely wouldn’t become a pattern. No God could be so cruel.
I don’t know which God was watching over our village. If any deity looked over our village, he couldn’t have been kind.
I was in love before the hardships. Before the barren fields and hot winds and bitter winters. Before my stomach pinched with hunger and my mouth got dry with thirst.
Before, when all he wanted was taffy, and all I wanted was a cool drink of water on a warm summer day. When all I wanted in the world was to see him smile.
Hansel, the boy who survived hell with me. The boy who I watched become a man. A man I loved. A man I could never have.
His smile was like a clear spring running through the forest and a lush field brimming with crops. It was like sneaking away to pick flowers in the meadow. It was a smile full of promises and secrets, and he gave it to me like I was fresh rain and sunshine.
And all I had to do to see it was knock on the wooden door to his house. He’d answer with a smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back.
That was years ago. Before the witch. Now we’re left with the barren after.
I wish I could go back. I wish I could keep the crops in the fields and snuff out the fire with my fingers before it could burn everything down. I wish I could stop what happened before we ever set foot on that long, dirt road by the old farms.
Before we ever found the witch’s house.
But I can’t.
I can’t change the past.
I can’t change that he hates me now.
And I can’t stop what’s already started.
I stand outside that wooden door, the paint chipped and scratched and the winter wind whistling through my clothes. No matter how many layers I wear, the frigid air goes straight to my skin. It’s so cold that my teeth ache. My cheeks burn from the blistering cold.
I can’t count how many times I fell asleep dreaming about being in this very spot. It always held possibility for me. The moment before I knocked on this door was always like the moment before opening a gift—giddy anticipation that I knew would be followed by delight.
Now, outside Hansel’s door, I wish I was standing anywhere else.
I swallow thickly, trying not to think of all of his smiles. Isn’t there any other way through this?
There isn’t. I know there isn’t. I was up half the night pacing and trying to think of some other solution. In the end, I came up with nothing.
I wish I didn’t have to tell him.
I must, though. I owe him that at least.
And…
I don’t think I can stop this by myself. I wish I could. More than anything, I wish I didn’t need him, but I do. It’s always been him for me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I cast a look over my shoulder. Is somebody watching?
I can’t see a single soul.
That doesn’t mean much. The town has been blanketed in thick, ever-present fog for weeks, and it’s only been made worse by the winter. White snow piles up everywhere, hiding the shape of the land and houses underneath. If the fog gets any thicker…
I turn back to the door, taking deep breaths to calm myself. It’s hard to breathe in the cold and the fog. The air’s too thick and heavy. My heart beats harder from my nerves.
It’s just Hansel’s house. I’ve knocked on his door a hundred times before. I already know he won’t smile at me. I already know where we stand.
The witch changed everything. We killed her and with it, we killed what innocence we had.
Just knock, I think. Before you freeze to death.
I take a half-step back and stare at the house instead. I bet the straw roof still leaks in the corner with all this snow. In fact, I imagine it’s much worse now, like the paint on the door. It’s lost almost all its color. It was red once, but now it’s a dull brown. The water wheel on the side of the old house doesn’t move. It’s frozen solid.
My breath turns white and disappears into the fog in front of my face.