Hansel and Gretel

Hansel and Gretel

At the edge of a great forest lived a woodcutter with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. The family was poor, but in their little house there had always been room for laughter, hot soup, and a story before bed.

Then one year the harvest was very bad. The flour was running out, there were almost no vegetables left, and the grown-ups whispered more and more often about how they would survive the winter.

One evening the children overheard a frightening conversation. Their stepmother, terrified of hunger, said to their father:

“Tomorrow we will take the children into the forest while we gather wood. Let them wait in a clearing while we go farther away to work. Perhaps they will be lucky enough to find their way to a wealthier village.”

“No,” their father replied. “We cannot do that.”

But the argument went on for a long time. Hansel and Gretel lay beneath their blanket, unable to sleep.

“Don’t be afraid,” Hansel whispered to his sister. “We will find our way home.”

That night he quietly slipped outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles beside the well gleamed like little coins. Hansel filled his pockets with them.

The next morning, the family set off into the forest.

Hansel walked last, dropping a white pebble onto the path every now and then.

In a large clearing, the grown-ups lit a small fire.

“Wait here,” their father said heavily. “We are going to gather wood.”

Time passed. The sun went down. The fire died.

Gretel began to cry softly.

“Now,” Hansel said, “we wait for the moon.”

When the round moon rose above the trees, the white pebbles began to shine. The children walked from one to the next and reached home by morning.

Their father was so happy to see them that he held them in his arms for a very long time.

But the hunger had not gone away. After a while, fear once again overcame the grown-ups’ better judgment, and the stepmother insisted on another journey into the forest.

This time the door was locked at night, and Hansel could not gather any pebbles.

At breakfast, each child was given a small piece of bread.

As they walked, Hansel secretly pinched off crumbs and dropped them behind him.

But the forest birds were hungry too. They flew down to the path and ate every crumb.

When evening came, there was no trail to lead the children home.

“We’ll manage,” Gretel said this time. “If we stay together, the forest isn’t so frightening.”

The children wandered for a long time. They shared their last berry, drank from a stream, and slept beneath a fir tree, huddled close together.

On the third day, a white bird landed on a branch in front of them.

It flew from tree to tree as though calling them to follow.

“Maybe it knows the way,” Gretel said.

The children followed.

Soon the trees opened, and before them stood the strangest little house in the world.

Its roof was made of gingerbread.

Its walls were made of sweet bread.

Its windows shone as though they were made of sugar.

Nuts and candied fruit lined the edges of the roof.

“I think I must be dreaming,” Hansel whispered.

They were so hungry that they broke off a tiny piece of the gingerbread roof.

Crunch.

Gretel touched the sugar window.

Crack.

A voice came from inside.

“Who is nibbling at my house?”

The door opened. A very old woman with a walking stick stood on the threshold.

“You poor children!” she said in a honey-sweet voice. “Come inside. I have warm milk, apples, and soft beds.”

Hansel and Gretel hesitated, but exhaustion and hunger won.

It really was warm inside. The old woman fed them and put them to bed.

But in the morning, her voice was no longer gentle.

The doors were locked.

“You will live here now,” she said. “I enchanted this house to lure helpers to me. Hansel will carry firewood, and Gretel will spend all day baking my sweets. And don’t even think of running away.”

Then the children understood that she was no kind grandmother at all, but a forest witch.

Whenever the witch went out to gather herbs, she locked Hansel in a storeroom and made Gretel work in the kitchen.

“We have to escape,” the children whispered to each other in the evenings.

“But she keeps the key on her belt,” Hansel said.

Gretel watched carefully.

The witch could not see very well and was forever confusing jars, spoons, and cupboard doors.

One morning she ordered:

“Gretel, check the big oven. Is it warm enough for gingerbread?”

Gretel saw that the oven door was open, but she decided not to take any chances.

“I don’t understand how to check,” she said. “Please show me.”

The witch came over crossly.

“You bend down like this and look inside!”

As she demonstrated, the ring of keys slipped from her belt and fell onto the table.

Clink!

Gretel snatched up the keys and ran to the storeroom.

“Hansel!”

Click!

The door opened.

The witch rushed after them, but the children were already outside. Gretel pulled the outer door shut and turned the key in the lock.

“Open this door at once!” the witch shouted from inside.

“We will open it when you promise never again to lure children with sweets or keep them here against their will!” Gretel called back.

The witch grumbled, banged on the door, and made threats. But the children had the key.

Beside the house, Hansel noticed a chest. Inside were jewels and coins the witch had taken from travelers.

The children took only a small bag of coins so they could buy food for the journey. They left the rest for grown-ups who might later return the valuables to their owners.

The white bird appeared on a branch again.

“Look!” Gretel said. “Our guide.”

They followed it.

At a broad stretch of water, a white duck helped them cross. She carried the children one at a time, because Gretel said:

“Together we are too heavy. We mustn’t overload our little helper.”

Beyond the water, the forest began to look familiar.

That evening the children saw the roof of their own home.

Their father ran out to meet them. During their absence, he had bitterly regretted allowing fear to guide his actions. Their stepmother was no longer there. She had left the village after realizing that the family would never accept such a decision again.

“Forgive me,” their father said. “A grown-up must protect children, even when he is frightened and life is hard.”

Hansel and Gretel came home.

The coins were enough to buy grain, seeds, and warm clothes. The following spring, the family planted a large vegetable garden.

For a long time afterward, the children remembered the sweet little house.

Not because its roof had been the most delicious roof in the world.

But because it was there that they learned something important: Hansel knew how to find a way forward, Gretel knew how to spot a way out of a trap, and together they were far stronger than any magic in the forest.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨