Sweet Intentions: A Dark Retelling of Hansel and Gretel

The Contest of Witches

Long before the woods were feared, they were a place of magic. Witches of old made their homes among the trees, each more enchanting than the last. They competed fiercely, their egos as towering as their spells.

Old Martha built her house from diamonds, walls sparkling like stars. But her extravagance left her penniless, unable to add even a modest second floor. Crazy Joanna tried to craft a home of living flowers, but her magic faltered. The blooms withered, leaving her with a decaying shell. Then came Anna, young and bright, whose house of rainbows dazzled both witches and leprechauns alike. Her creation sparked wonder, and whispers spread that Anna might win the unspoken crown of the forest.

Then they turned to me.

My name is Dolcetta, the sweet witch. My magic lies in flavor and scent, and the thought of letting Anna bask in her colorful glory was unbearable. As the witches eagerly awaited my response, I had an epiphany while baking an apple pie. Why compete with rainbows when I could offer something irresistible? Sweets.

A House Like No Other

The vision consumed me. I’d build a house that wasn’t just beautiful—it would tempt the taste buds and capture the hearts of everyone who saw it.

I worked tirelessly, day and night, baking and crafting. A hundred sacks of flour vanished into cakes and pastries. Rivers of molten caramel flowed into my molds. The air around my home grew thick with the scent of sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla. My kitchen became my world, a place where dreams and desserts intertwined.

After ten grueling months, my masterpiece was complete.

Caramel sinks. A waterfall of iced tea. Taffy chandeliers, toffee windows, and gingerbread walls. The floors were strawberry, the grass vanilla, and candy canes sprouted like trees. My house was a marvel, a paradise of sweets unmatched by anything the other witches had ever conjured.

I stood back, surveying my sugary sanctuary, pride swelling in my chest. Anna’s rainbows would pale in comparison.

The Ruin of My Creation

Word of my candy house spread quickly, and I prepared for the witches to arrive in awe. But before they could, disaster struck.

Their names were Hansel and Gretel, a pair of ravenous little monsters masquerading as children. They stumbled upon my home, their eyes wide with greed. Before I could greet them, they tore into my garden, devouring candied apples and ripping pieces from my gingerbread walls.

“Stop!” I cried, but they didn’t listen. My hard work, months of effort, vanished into their sticky hands and mouths.

Rage boiled within me. My house was my pride, my soul, and they were destroying it. I wouldn’t let them get away with it.

A Sinister Plan

Feigning kindness, I called out to them. “Come inside, my darlings! There’s plenty more to eat. Sit, rest, and enjoy!”

Hansel and Gretel hesitated, but the promise of more sweets overpowered their caution. They stepped into my sugary lair, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

I set a grand table, laden with cakes, pies, and candy. “Eat to your hearts’ content,” I said, my voice dripping with false sweetness.

And they did. They stuffed themselves until their cheeks bulged, their fingers sticky with frosting. For hours, I fed them, my fury simmering beneath my smile. But as their hunger turned to gluttony, something changed. Their eyes grew wild, their movements erratic. The sugar consumed them, sending them into a crazed frenzy.

Gretel began screaming, accusing me of trying to cook them. “You’re a wicked witch!” she cried. “You want to throw us in the oven!”

Hansel joined in, his sugar-addled mind spinning tales of my supposed evil. They ran from my house, shrieking and flailing, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

The Witch’s Fall

I tried to explain, to reason with the townsfolk when the children told their story. But no one listened.

“She lured us with candy!” Hansel cried.
“She tried to bake us alive!” Gretel wailed.

The villagers turned on me, their fear and anger fed by the children’s lies. They hurled stones at my walls, smashing the sugar windows I had so painstakingly crafted. My fellow witches shunned me, unwilling to defend someone branded as a child-eating monster.

My reputation lay in ruins, my beautiful house broken and bare.

A Dark Resolve

Alone in my shattered home, I let the bitterness seep into my heart. If the world wanted me to be a villain, so be it. If they insisted on calling me a wicked witch, I would wear the title with pride.

“I will be the shadow in the woods,” I vowed. “The terror in their tales. No more candy houses. No more sweetness. I will build a house of bone, a monument to their sins. And I will be the wolf they fear in every forest.”

A Warning to the Innocent

Hansel and Gretel’s lies turned me into something I never wanted to be. But let this be a lesson: Do not judge by appearances, and do not bite the hand that feeds you.

The forest now belongs to me. To those who wander too far, beware—you may find my new house. And you may not leave it.

Moral of the Story

Greed and lies have consequences, and even the sweetest intentions can curdle into bitterness when betrayed.