The Sweet Shop.

 Rain coursed down the shop's window, blurring the images behind the single pane glass. Two people could be seen from the street, busily stacking books into boxes and adding cupcake trays to the pile. The man in the window finally got around to taking down the 'open' sign and the woman in the window looked on with excitement.

A passerby may wonder why the hassle on a foggy, rainy day. Everyone else was a home, watching movies and comfort eating. Why now to pack up your shop and leave? The simple answer was that the couple in the bakehouse window couldn't wait to leave. They couldn't wait to shut the old shop down and move as far away as possible from that place...

Ten years earlier...

“Hansel! Hansel get in here at once and don't go out again unless I say.” The old woman of Lark Street barked from her position under the shop door's awning. A little boy, not much older than twelve looked up from his marbles. It had rained the previous day and the cobblestones were still dark with moisture. The boy, Hansel, gathered up his toys and obediently came back to the shop. Although the enticing smell of cookies and cakes wafted up and down the street for blocks, the boy didn't want to go back. He hated the stuffy atmosphere and he certainly did not like the sweets. He dashed past the old woman, and past the little girl with the broom, and up to the second floor. The second floor was an escape from the smell of sugar. The second floor was Hansel's real home.

Cook books, fairytales, ten-cent-novels and an old atlas stood on the two facing bookshelves. The space between these tall guards was relatively crammed with junk. Two beds stood directly beneath the shelves. Gretel had always been afraid of the bookcase tipping over as she slept, and crushing her. It was a comfort to share a bed with Hansel, but even he wasn't sure of the steadfastness of the shelves either. The opposite bed belonged to the old woman. It was filthy and flea ridden and contaminated what had the potential of being a livable room. Gretel was diligent in cleaning their side of the room and left the other to rot and be foul. Such was the dislike of the old woman that her grandchildren were happy to leave her in her squalor and they delighted in it.

Hansel set his bag of marbles delicately on the nearest shelf and flopped, bored out of his wits, onto the bed. There were no pillows. Not even a sheet; but there were four, holey and ancient blankets spread out. Hansel was glad for the four blankets, even if one part of him was always cold because of a hole the size of a large book.

“HANSEL! I need you!” The old woman's shriek startled the young man into a sitting position and he sighed with loathing as soon as it died off. He heard the scrape of the oven brush and the whimpering of the young girl. Gretel. Sweet, lovely Gretel. The thought of his sister's timidness being taken advantage of was infuriating to the boy, and so he leapt up and raced down into the kitchen, determined to stick up for her. The boy's idea was gallant, but he had rushed too late. Gretel was kneeling on the floor, a half eaten cupcake in her hand and the scrubbing brush in the other. Tears dropped into the dry, spongey cake, and Gretel's hand was shaking. Hansel took a deep breath and said,

“Stop! Stoppit you old witch! Can't you see she's going to be sick?”

“HUSH! You impudent, ungrateful child!” Hansel, like any self-respecting little boy, was affronted by the use of the word 'child'. All the same, he cringed under the authority of his evil grandmother. She stepped toward him and pushed her discolored, hairy face close to him. He grimaced.

SLAP!

“Get cleaning, I need to have those ovens sparkling for this next batch of cookies. Understand?”

“Yes grandma.” Hansel grated out from behind clenched teeth. Gretel nodded in silence and crushed the cupcake wrapper in her fist. Her doe like eyes hardened with helplessness and Hansel felt tears of anger surge into his eyes. The kitchen was just one bad memory for the children of the sweet shop.

“Someday, Gretel, we'll own this place. And then we'll sell, and we can be free of this forever.” Hansel said as he helped his frail sister to her feet.