Hansel and Gretel - German

My name is Gretel, and the forest near my home is so deep and dark that the sunlight struggles to touch the ground. My older brother, Hansel, and I used to think it was a place for adventures, but one day, it became a place of fear. Our family was desperately poor, and the hunger that gnawed at our bellies was a constant ache. This is the story of how we were lost and found our way home, a tale you might know as Hansel and Gretel. One evening, huddled in our cold beds, I overheard our stepmother telling our father a dreadful plan. 'There is not enough bread for four,' she hissed. 'We must lead the children into the woods and leave them.' My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. But Hansel, ever the brave one, whispered, 'Don't worry, little sister. I have a plan.' That night, he crept outside and filled his pockets with small white pebbles that shimmered like tiny moons. The next morning, as our parents led us deep into the forest, Hansel secretly dropped the pebbles one by one. When they left us by a meager fire, we waited for the real moon to rise. Can you imagine our relief when its light made the pebbles sparkle like a path of stars, guiding us all the way back home?

Our father’s face lit up when he saw us, but our stepmother’s expression was as sour as spoiled milk. The hunger in our cottage only grew worse, and soon we heard the same terrible plan whispered in the dark. This time, the door was bolted shut, and Hansel couldn’t gather any pebbles. All he had was his small crust of bread for the journey. 'I will make a trail with this,' he promised, breaking it into tiny crumbs as we walked. But alas, the forest is home to many hungry creatures. The birds, chirping their morning songs, saw the crumbs as a delicious breakfast and ate every single one. We were truly lost. For three days, we wandered, the trees growing thicker and darker, our hope dwindling like a dying candle flame. Just when we felt we could walk no further, a marvelous scent drifted through the air—the smell of baking gingerbread and sweet cake. We followed it to a clearing and there it was: a house made of gingerbread, with a roof of chocolate cake and windows of clear, sparkling sugar! We were so hungry we couldn't resist. I broke off a piece of the wall, and Hansel nibbled on a sugar windowpane. Suddenly, a high, sweet voice called out, “Nibble, nibble, little mouse, who is nibbling at my house?” An old woman emerged, leaning on a cane. She seemed kind, inviting us inside for pancakes and warm beds. We thought our troubles were over, but her kindness was a mask. The next morning, she revealed her true nature: a wicked witch! She grabbed Hansel and locked him in a cage, forcing me to be her servant. She planned to fatten him up and eat him! Every day, she would command, 'Stick out your finger, so I can feel if you're plump yet.' But clever Hansel held out a small chicken bone instead, fooling her poor, dim-sighted eyes.

The witch was not a patient person. She grew tired of waiting and one day declared, 'Plump or not, I shall bake him today!' She ordered me to check the roaring fire in the oven to see if it was hot enough. My knees trembled, but I knew this was my only chance to save us. I had to be braver than I had ever been. Pretending to be confused, I said in a small voice, 'I don't know how. The door is so big. Could you show me how to look inside?' The witch grumbled about foolish children, but she shuffled forward and leaned down to peer into the oven's fiery mouth. With all my might, I gave her a great big shove from behind! I slammed the heavy iron door shut and bolted it tight. We were free! I quickly unlocked Hansel's cage, and we hugged each other, overjoyed. Before we left, we explored the witch's cottage and discovered chests overflowing with pearls, diamonds, and gold coins. We filled our pockets until they bulged and then fled into the woods. This time, the path seemed less frightening, and soon we recognized familiar trees. In the distance, we saw our own cottage. Our father ran to us, his face wet with tears. He told us our cruel stepmother had gone away and that he had been miserable every day without us. We poured the treasures onto the table, and our family's days of hunger were over forever. Our story, first shared around firesides in Germany long ago, became a warning to children about straying too far from home. But for me, it is also a story of hope. It shows that even when you feel small and lost, cleverness and courage can light up the darkest path. It proves that the bond between a brother and sister is strong enough to overcome even the most wicked of witches.