[LJ Idol 8x20] Open Topic: Reversed Viewpoint
Gretchen carefully worked the piping around the base of the cake, perfectly tracing where it met the plate. Old age limited her eyesight and she shuffled more than she walked these days, but her hands were steady as ever when she needed them to be. She added a quick dusting of colored sugar crystals for contrast, then gently carried the cake over to the windowsill and placed it with the others. Below them was a row of pies in all different flavors, and below that was box after box of candies and chocolates.
All about the room were baked goods and candies of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Gretchen loved to make them. It gave her purpose in life, a happiness to be creating and doing something that brought the same happiness to all that tasted her treats. Twice a week Helmut the grocer came by with his cart, which left soon after full to the top with everything he bought from her. The townsfolk couldn't get enough of her goods. Earlier that year they all made a trip deep into the woods to visit her and give thanks for all she gave them. They spent all day working on her house and yard, painting and nailing, cutting and planting. When they were done her whole property looked as delicious on the outside as hers cakes did inside, like she lived in a gigantic gingerbread dream!
She settled down onto her chair for a rest that evening, surrounded by the sights and smells of the efforts of her day. Suddenly she jumped, startled as a repeated banging started on the wall beside her! The clamor continued, along with some creaking and scraping, while she slowly made her way outside. There on the porch stood a short rotund boy of maybe twelve, smashing the wood siding off the wall with her stool and ripping it away from the wall. He noticed her standing there, and turned on her with a holler.
"What the hell old hag! They said your house was made of cake, and all it is is crappy wood! We walked all day out here to eat some of it and it's all a lie! Gimme something to eat!"
Gretchen took a step back away from him, holding her hands in front of her in a warding gesture. "My boy, please calm down. The house is just painted to look like a candy house, not really ma..."
"I KNOW THAT! I just said it didn't I? I also said GIMME SOMETHING TO EAT! I can smell you've been baking in there, give it to me."
A shadow off to Gretchen's side startled her again, and she finally noticed the girl standing on the porch with them. Rail thin and covered in dirt, she stared up though her scraggly tangled hair at Gretchen with dull, black, hateful eyes.
"You kids need to stop it and go home, you're terrible and I'll give you nothing!" She backed into the house as quickly as she could, and pulled the door closed between her and the children. She barred the door just seconds before it jolted with a bang, then pulled the curtains closed to block the sight of the little girl staring in at her. The little boy screamed wordlessly in rage before giving up his assault on the door.
"You're gonna pay for that you old biddie! I'll be back and I'm getting what I want! Come on Gretel, let's smash up the crap in the yard!"
Gretchen heard him stomp across the porch and down the stairs, while she sat on her chair and sobbed quietly in fear.
~~~
It was the dead of night when he finally returned, waking her out of a deep sleep with a terrible crash against the front door downstairs. She crossed the room and opened the shutters to find the dirty little girl standing on the roof staring in at her. Gretchen screamed and backed up, falling to the floor as she tripped over her own feet. She scrabbled back to the stairs and used the railing to pull herself back up, then fled downstairs as fast as she could make herself move. Downstairs in the dark wasn't any better, the boy howling and cackling as he kept throwing himself against the door. He started moving around the outside of the house, banging and scraping and laughing and cackling, slowly driving her mad.
She scrambled around in the dark but could not find the lantern, and only managed to spill the matches all over the floor where she could not reach them. The boy was running back and forth across the back porch now, and started repeating a chant at the top of his lungs.
"GONNA GOBBLE YOU UP! GONNA GOBBLE YOU UP!"
He took off at a run around the house again, banging and banging as he kept up the chant. Gretchen heard a squealing noise from upstairs that made goosebumps stand up on her arms and her scalp tingle from the shock. She always meant to have someone oil that window, the noise it made as it opened was horrific. She knew the girl was in the house now. In a blind panic she tried to find a place to hide, but all the baked goods and supplies blocked anywhere she could go. In a fear-stricken flash of idea she climbed inside the large oven and pulled the heavy iron door closed behind her, using a thick spoon through a vent to wedge the door closed. She huddled shaking in the pitch black, hoping the children would eat the pies and cakes and candies and forget about her. All she could do was try to be silent, and listen.
It wasn't long before everything went quiet, the banging and yelling outside the house conspicuously absent. A scraping noise of wood on wood was followed by a thunk she could feel through the floor, then the sound of the wooden lockbar dragging on the floor as the front door opened. The rattling of pie pans on the shelves told her they had found the food, and she relaxed just a little. Leaning over very slowly, she looked out through one of the vents on the oven wall. Sitting cross-legged on the floor was the little girl, staring back up at Gretchen through her greasy hair. She held the box of matches.
Gretchen's heart leapt in her chest, nearly making her vomit in fright as she tried to get the spoon out and open the door to escape. It was too late. The oven rang loudly as the heavy wood table slammed into the outside of the door, pinning her in.
"GOBBLE YOU UP! GONNA GOBBLE YOU UP!" he screamed at her through the vent. "Mom said she couldn't keep me fed anymore, but she kept me fed FOR DAYS! I love my sweets but I want my MEAT!!"
She pounded her fists on the inside of the door but knew it would do no good. She heard matches being struck one at a time, then the loud wooshing noise of the bellows being worked to fan the fire into a blaze. The little boy cackled and screamed in imitation of Gretchen as the oven roared and glowed.