Cover Letter

I didn’t understand “myth.”  I knew it, of course, but, then again, my grasp faltered and all that myth is dissolved away.  Like a specter, I could sense it’s presence but not its intentions.  Therefore my Myth Journal began a little fuzzy, a little abstract.  My first couple entries reflect on introversion, marinating on my story, my “mythic figure,” and myself.

The Jeweled.  She followed me through my dreams and I gave her a story to live in.  As subtle as a river in the Sahara, she wandered through replays of other tales.  She broke Harry's glasses, rode Sapphira (much to Eragon's displeasure), backhanded several irritating characters in the face, and slaughtered any idiot who dared to hurt the good ones. With each story she visited, she acquired a new ability until, finally, she was complete.  (See MJ#1).

After the first few weeks of class, I gained a better understanding of myth and how to analyze it.  In this blog alone, I have analyzed Legend of the Seeker, Oedipus, Mwindo, and The Little Mermaid through the eyes of influential people such as Carl Jung, Otto Rank, Vladimir Propp, and Joseph Campbell.  I think the most enlightening of these musings was that of The Little Mermaid.  My favourite movie as a child, The Little Mermaid explores many aspects of what it means to be human.  Jung’s analysis reveals the complex interaction of the characters, most especially with Scuttles acting as the dreamer.  I never realized what an important role he plays in the film. (See MJ#7).   Two months later I looked at the same tale through a Proppian lens.  The Little Mermaid, shares many traits with Propp’s categorization of a classic folk or fairytale.  The story fits almost flawlessly into the Proppian structure. (See MJ#16).

After I mastered forms of analyzing myths, I delved into the actual mythmaking process itself.  I tried my hand at a Halloween myth: one of ghosts and hope and the unknown.

The wind brushed its soft fingers through her dress, teasing her ankles to move. With an inward smile she obliged, turning her toes toward the next house. The pale fire in her eyes glanced upward, flirting with the moon. The countdown had begun. (See MJ#11).

In the “myth” I played with frequent concepts surrounding Halloween.  The moon, calling at a strangers door, ghosts, and a quiet mystery.  From here I journeyed farther into the dark with an apocalypse myth.

Adrian stared up at the sky in amazement.  It was as if the eyes of heaven were turning away in shame, closing forever on the sin of humanity.  His wife, close and familiar, huddled under the jacket they shared.

“Is that…?”

“The stars.  The stars are going out.”

As the spirits of the great universe abandoned their children in the pursuit of darkness, the Sun wondered at its path.  The Earth cried out and decreed Importance and tossed little trinkets of invention as offering into its depths, but the Sun couldn’t resist heavy eyelids.  When the Sun closed its eyes, so did the Earth.  And tears fell like rain.  (See MJ#12).

I surprised myself with this very existentialist view, but I was rather pleased with the result.  Now that I had my fun and played with the construction of my own myths, I could properly examine myths in the world around me.  I see implications of myth everywhere that I go.  Captain Jack Sparrow is a liminal figure (as is Captain Jack Harkness), something I would never have considered had I not taken Mythology.  Liminality, actually, has become quite a point of interest to me, the Doctor not being the least of which.  Explored in this blog is the liminality of Lelouch vi Britania of the fantastic anime series Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion.

Lelouch vi Britania is neither good nor bad and it took our discussion in class today to comprehend that he plays the trickster.  He hides behind a mask of Zero and orders his followers to do his bidding.  Although he calls them his pawns and only leads them to gain the throne, his instruction guides the oppressed 'elevens' (the lost Japan) out of the hands of the oppressors (the Britanians).  Classic trickster: he helps others by achieving only his personal agenda.

Starting with Loki, the liminal trickster figure in Norse mythology, many other liminal figures came to my attention.  Not as many as the amount of other Norse “myth sightings” I encountered while reading the Prose Edda.  For a full list of Norse myth sightings see the entry entitled “Norse Myth Sightings.”

Finally, after a full semester of studying mythology, the cycle is complete.  I began by relating myth to myself except now I have the background to truly understand the impact mythology has on the world.  The Liminal vs. the Liminoidal (See MJ#13), the Apollonian vs. the Dionysian (See MJ#14), and Racism as an old myth with a new chapter (See MJ#15) all explore the ways myth and its concepts have affected my life.

As a whole, I thoroughly enjoyed this class and keeping up on this blog.  I’d definitely consider my interest in this blog to be of “A” efforts.  (According to my roommate, my enthusiasm was paramount).  I have a feeling that this won’t be my last entry.  Even if the class ends, myth will live on!

MJ#16: Proppian Analysis of The Little Mermaid

A little while back I performed a Jungian analysis on The Little Mermaid.  As a follow up I have now analyzed the story of Ariel as dictated by Vladimir Propp.  I'm surprised at how well the story melds with his structure.

α - alpha - We see Ariel as an adventurous girl who has trouble with keeping up with her responsibilities.

β - beta - Ariel goes off exploring with Flounder in a the remnants of a ship.

γ - gamma - Ariel is forbidden to associate with humans or go to the surface.

δ - delta - Ariel goes to the surface and sees Eric for the first time.  She ends up saving his life.

ε - epsilon - Flotsam and Jetsam discover Ariel's attraction to a human.

ζ - zeta - Flotsam and Jetsam report back to Ursula.

η - eta - Ursula lures Ariel into her lair so that she can initiate her plan to steal her brother's throne.

θ - theta - Ariel falls for Ursula's ploy.  Ursula steals her voice.

A 11 - Ursula casts a spell on Ariel...

B - ...forcing her to leave.  (Humans cannot breathe underwater). - Victimized hero.

↑ - Ariel swims to the surface with the help of Flounder and Sebastian.

D - Eric asks Ariel if she is "the girl."  He recognizes her from when she sang and saved his life.

E - Ariel cannot speak.

F - Eric is disappointed but offers her a place to stay in the palace as well as clothing and food.

G - Ariel travels to the castle of the man she's been searching for.

H - Ariel struggles against Ursula's curse and the time limit restricting her.

J - Eric names Ariel on a romantic evening out.

I - Eric falls in love with Ariel.

K - Ariel is happy to be with Eric and everything seems right in the world.

o - Eric still does not recognize Ariel as the girl that saved him.

L - Ursula comes ashore and claims to be Eric's saviour with Ariel's stolen voice.

M - Ariel must win back her love by revealing Ursula and swimming to the ship where Eric and Ursula's wedding is to take place.

N - With the help of Scuttles, Flounder, and Sebastian, Ariel manages to reveal the witch.

Q - Eric recognizes Ariel as his true saviour.

Ex - Ursula is seen in her true form (Evil Octopus Woman!)

T - Ursula transforms Ariel back into a mermaid.

Pr - Ursula pursues Ariel, using the furies of the ocean against her.

Rs - Eric saves Ariel by spearing Ursula through with a wrecked ship.

U - Ursula is turned into a ghoul or a "poor unfortunate soul."

W - Ariel marries Eric and ascends the throne.  They live "happily ever after."

MJ#15: Racism: An Old Myth with a New Chapter

Trudy Clarke arrived at the airport at 2:00.  She plucked her “Viva Glam” lip gloss from her bag, flicking the familiar substance across her plump lips without thinking.  Suitcase trailing behind, Trudy entered the chaos of depositing her baggage, collecting her tickets, and (god forbid!) security.  She managed to make it through the bustling line in record time without having her bare feet on the airport floor for more than she needed to.  Trudy couldn’t stand the grit of the place.

Checking her Christion Dior, she realized she still had an hour before her plane departed.  Trudy flitted through some of the stores close to her Gate before settling down in a little café.  Ten minutes later, she was tucking into half a turkey and swiss sandwich and a small iced latte. Feeling refreshed she strolled back over to the seating under a large “D-12.”  Only a few minutes passed before a strong female announced that the plane was ready for boarding.

Trudy gathered her oversized purse and miniaturized suitcase and passed off her ticket to a short blonde woman.  She hurried through the recently airborne hallway connecting the plane to the terminal.  She was looking forward to getting a little sleep before reaching New York.  So absorbed was she in these musings, Trudy was not prepared for the sight around the final corner.

“Good afternoon, Madame.”

Oh God. Trudy thought.

Terrified, it was all she could do to ease past the smiling pilot and enter the death trap.  She wanted to leave, to flee, but then he would be on to her and… She couldn’t even consider it.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” she tried to hide her trembling fingers and dodged the concerned stewardess.

She sat down in her designated seat and held her breath.

Three hours later, Trudy Clarke burst out of the plane at a sprint walk.  The Arab pilot stared after her in bafflement.

Ever since September 11^th, 2001, events like this are not uncommon.  I’ve witnessed it myself.  What began as an unlikely event now constitutes a thriving epidemic that some constitute as indisputable fact.  What better way to define myth and what better way to define tragedy?

MJ#14: Apollo vs Dionysus

When I was five years old I had a “thing” for orcas.  I had stuffed animals, figurines, and even a couple books.  When people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would promptly announce, “A marine biologist.”  At age 5. Yeah, I was a weird kid.

Well, I stubbornly clung on to that idea until sophomore year when I got into my first biology class and realized I didn’t speak that language.  I wandered about for a while in a confused daze.  What would I do with my life?  What would I become?  It was every adult’s first question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  I could no longer answer the fundamental conversation starter and it bothered me deeply.

Of course, that’s when I started a creative writing club with my friend Robyn. I had always been good at English and I’d been working on a ‘novel’ since fourth grade. Naturally, I had to keep updating it due to my rapid change in writing style so it hadn’t gotten very far yet, but I still I had a passion.  I would be a novelist.  

Writing is the ultimate Dionysian practice, full of feeling, wild unabated passion, in the hope of intoxicating another with words if only for a moment.  More than anything I loved being word drunk and I wanted to give that to someone else.

As a senior I found another passion, enough to match the ecstasy of pouring one’s soul onto the page.  Its name was Calculus. I was blown away by the simple complexity of numbers and variables sprawled out in such a movable order.  It was so much like writing in the way you could describe a way of life through a few, well thought out sentences.  How clever! I thought, How incredibly clever.

Calculus, as well as my CAD and AutoTech classes, convinced me to change my mind once again.  I would be an engineer, a mechanical engineer.  Apollo smiled on me that day.  Mechanical engineering was the logical, rational decision.  I was almost assured financial stability, and the market for engineers was good.  How very sensible.

So why does my heart yearn for Dionysus?

MJ#13: Liminal vs Liminoidal

There have been three major turning points in my rather brief time on this planet.  All three have shaped me as a person and changed how I observe myself and those around me.  The first would be the death of my father.  As his man-made death trap of a plane scattered in flames across the runway, the glasses of innocence shattered and I could see the cracks.  But I could also see the clear.  I knew the world then and I knew the world knew me as it always had.  That was my first liminal experience.

Several years later, my mother decided she was tired of living in the echoes of my father so we packed up and moved from California to Washington.  I was not doing so well in school then.  Most of my friends had abandoned me to my depression as they could not comprehend the sorrow of losing someone so dear.  They were too young, still wearing those glasses unbroken. I flourished in the new environment and changed my entire personality to better equip myself to the stupor of junior high.  This was my second liminal experience.

Then I was struck by the liminoidal.  I was introduced to my downfall.  A darkness and agonizing obsession of unprecedented proportions, Doctor Who shattered my imagination for at least a year.  I was astounded by the intricacy of the show, the unbelievable acting, and the evils of humanity. Honestly, it’s some scary shit.  My view of the world, the universe, was completely knocked over and replaced by a TV show.  Dear lord.

MJ #12: Apocalypse Myth: The Day the Universe Blinked

Holly pulled her jacket tighter around her. It was strangely chilly for a summer evening.  The air sank its fangs into her cheeks and sucked the heat from her breath, teasing her with the fog of exhaling.

I shouldn’t be able to see my breath.  It’s mid-July!

Holly quickened her pace and flung herself into the heated dome of The Observatory.

“It’s freezing out there!”  Holly untangled the scarf from her neck and shed her layers.

“The thermostat’s reading twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit but that’s the least of our worries. Come take a look at this.”

Billy Rosemary was not having a good day and Holly could tell.  He led her through the lobby and into the Beast room.

“How’s the Beast-ie this evening?” she gestured to the massive telescope perched in the center of the dome.

“Out of a job.”

“What?”

Billy sighed and turned towards her, eyes wild and puffy as if he’d been crying.

“Billy?”

“Take a look for yourself.”

They strode up to the platform in silence except for the clicking of Holly’s heels on the tiles. Billy hit the controls with trembling fingers.  He nodded.

“Okay.”

“Holly glanced one last time at her partner before plunging her eye into the telescope’s.  Every time Holly gazed into the beast it felt like the Beast gazed back. But not this time.  Or maybe now more than ever.  She pulled back in confusion.

Running her eyes over the computer simulation and diving back in, she understood why Billy was panicking.

“Billy, please tell me this piece of shit is broken.”

“It’s one-hundred percent operational. I’ve quadruple checked.”

“No.”

Holly’s knees bowed to the earth as she crumpled.

“No.”

“I know it’s hard to take but…. We need to tell someone about this.”

Adrian stared up at the sky in amazement.  It was as if the eyes of heaven were turning away in shame, closing forever on the sin of humanity.  His wife, close and familiar, huddled under the jacket they shared.

“Is that…?”

“The stars.  The stars are going out.”

As the spirits of the great universe abandoned their children in the pursuit of darkness, the Sun wondered at its path.  The Earth cried out and decreed Importance and tossed little trinkets of invention as offering into its depths, but the Sun couldn’t resist heavy eyelids.  When the Sun closed its eyes, so did the Earth.  And tears fell like rain.

MJ #11: Broken Glass: A Halloween Myth

The wind brushed its soft fingers through her dress, teasing her ankles to move. With an inward smile she obliged, turning her toes toward the next house. The pale fire in her eyes glanced upward, flirting with the moon. The countdown had begun.

Mercy rippled down the pavement, wondering at the glints that didn’t used to be there. Dew, she thought.  A closer inspection proved otherwise. Glass. Broken glass. She frowned at it for a moment before turning into the driveway.  More shimmers here, unnecessary and distracting.

She extended her glove in front of her with a slight gasp of excitement. Extending… extending… her finger connected with the doorbell and she froze. Mercy let out a squeal of glee and pushed the little white button. The resounding cacophony of static-like noise pounded into Mercy’s fragile frame.

“Trick-o-treat!”

An older woman garbed in robes a foot-and-a-half too short and a flopped over witch cap appeared in the silhouette of sunshine.

Mercy blinked at the inconsistency.

“Hello?”

“Ah. Yes. Could you perhaps do something about that repulsive glass in your front yard?”

“Hello?”

Mercy frowned.

“Yes! Right here! Could you please move the shimmer? It’s quite distracting.”

“Huh. Must of run off…”

The shabby witch woman began the door’s journey to its initial position.  Mercy swung her foot in the doorway.  The door slammed.  She thrust her face accusingly at the moon as she slid her foot out of the wood. Time’s up. Until next year.

And that’s when the rift between the world’s sucked her soul back in.

Until next year…

MJ#9: Prometheus

Here is the outline for a possible update of Prometheus (or should I say Frankenstein?):

Scientist creates new species.

Species not quite right.  They're completely blind.

Scientist out of resources.  Needs a special enzyme from a large corporation that he used to work for.

Tricks company by trading (at gun point of course) a seemingly important enzyme (actually failed but the company is ignorant of this) for the enzyme the scientist badly needs to make his creation a success.

Scientist succeeds in granting his creations eyesight.

Company sends 'suits' after scientist.

EPIC chase scene.

Scientist manages to get new species away from company and into the desert (where they'll survive best).

'Suits' catch up and shoot scientist.

Hello Hollywood.

MJ#8: A Jungian Analysis of Jocasta

Dreamer-- Jocasta.  Fragile, kindhearted.  She is unable to handle the trauma of finding out she slept with her son and her husband's killer.

Shadow-- Antigone.  Strong willed.  She doesn't kill herself at the news of her father/brother's treachery. She even breaks the societal norms by burying her brother against her other brother's orders.

Negative Animus-- Oedipus.  Effectively leads her to her doom.  Her ignorance feeds off of his ignorance and he is ultimately the main reason for her killing herself.

Positive Animus-- Oracle from the Past.  Tries to warn Jocasta of her future.  Jocasta ignores the oracle because of her disbelief in prophecy.  She is unable to connect with this animus because she has not yet accepted/dealt with the shadow.

Self-- Chorus.  The people.  They talk Jocasta through her problems and echo her feelings.  When Jocasta laments, so does the chorus.

MJ#6: Mwindo Epic: A Rankian Analysis

Mwindo, or as he names himself "Little One Just Born He Walked," goes on a rather odd journey to many different lands and realms meeting, what Otto Rank would denote as, many father figures (and not quite so many mother figures).


Father Figures:
Shemwindo- Mwindo's actual father.  Mwindo has to chase his murderous father through several realms and face many challenging trials in order to catch him and achieve forgiveness and fatherly approval. In a sense, Mwindo is growing up.

Mukiti- Water snake that marries Mwindo's Aunt Iyangura and 'steals her away.'  Rather, the 'father' is taking the 'mother's' attention away from her 'son.'  Mwindo has to defeat Mukiti before he can gain Iyangura's attention.

The Baniyana- Mwindo's blacksmith uncles.  They create armour for Mwindo to protect him in battle.  They are his protective 'fathers.'

Muisa- The dark, abusive 'father.'  He forces Mwindo through a series of demanding tasks and then punishes his success.  At one point in the story, Muisa actually beats Mwindo to death and his scepter must bring him back to life.

Shemburungu-  Creator god/Father of all.  Mwindo is more mature when he meets Shemburungu.  He almost humbly beats him at gambling and is rewarded with the location of Shemwindo.


Mother Figures:
Iyangura- Mwindo's aunt. She provides Mwindo with motherly love, a home-cooked meal, and helps him return home from the underworld.

Nyamwindo- "Preferred One."  Mwindo's actual mother.  She is somewhat of a weak mother seeing as she doesn't really stand up to her husband who thrice tries to murder their son.  Her inability to protect her son explains his astounding independence at a very young age.


NOTE: Yes.  I wrote MJ#6 after MJ#7.   I am aware.

Nordic Myth Sightings

I was astounded by the number of myth sightings I experienced while reading the excerpt from Prose Edda.

First of all, Ragnarok.  Described as the end of the gods in the Prose Edda, it appears in various anime series.  The most memorable being the character named Ragnarok in Soul Eater.  He is a weapon (yes, the characters are also weapons) living inside a human named Crona.  He wreaks terrible havoc on his enemies and is actually formed from Crona's blood.  Another case of Ragnarok in anime appears in Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion.  Ragnarok is the name of a devastating bomb that drops on a major city killing countless innocent civilians.  It effectively wipes out the main character's sister and, as he thinks of himself as a god, thereby wipes out his motivation to live.

In the popular book series Pendragon, a teenage boy must keep the balance of ten different worlds and ensure that each "Territory's" "turning point" plays out in the right way.  In the series, there are many references to "Halla" which is described as everyone and everything.  Later it is discovered that Halla is actually a place where the fallen characters of the story end up.  Sound anything like the Nordic afterlife realm for those who die in battle, Valhalla?

The video game Tales of Symphonia features a massive tower that connects several worlds.  A man named Lord Yggdrasil (who is an 'angel') controls the power of the tower.  The tree in the Prose Edda that controls the worlds is named Yggdrasil.

Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf from Harry Potter, comes directly from Fenrir the wolf who bites off Tyr's hand.

Lastly, and slightly more abstract, I want to address the concept of tricksters.  I have been trying to understand the main character of Code Geass for a long time.  Lelouch vi Britania is neither good nor bad and it took our discussion in class today to comprehend that he plays the trickster.  He hides behind a mask of Zero and orders his followers to do his bidding.  Although he calls them his pawns and only leads them to gain the throne, his instruction guides the oppressed 'elevens' (the lost Japan) out of the hands of the oppressors (the Britanians).  Classic trickster: he helps others by achieving only his personal agenda.

MJ#7: The Little Mermaid: A Jungian Analysis

DREAMER--Ariel.  A bubbly, adventurous, outgoing, hopeful, lovestruck lass surrounded by loving friends and family members.

SHADOW--Ursula/Vanessa.  Envious Ursula wallows in her own misery and forces others to do what she wants such as her 'pets' Flotsom and Jetsom.  She is miserable and alone, the complete opposite of the Little Mermaid.  She takes on Ariel's form and voice as Vanessa, linking them even closer.


POSITIVE ANIMUS--Flounder.  Flounder embodies the fear that Ariel doesn't show.  He contrasts to Ariel's 'we'll worry later' attitude.  He helps her on her journey.

NEGATIVE ANIMUS--Triton.  Stern, rash, and close-minded, Triton forces Ariel on her journey through a lack of understanding for Ariel's obsession with the human world.  As royalty, he represents what Ariel is supposed to be.

SELF--Ariel's voice.  Ariel's mighty melodic vocal cords are a force she's always had but doesn't appreciate until she has to earn them back.



DREAMER--Triton.

SHADOW--Eric.  Kind, understanding, willing to accept new things.  Also royalty, but much less stern than the Mer-king.

NEGATIVE ANIMA--Ursula.  As Triton's sister, she successfully destroys his life by tricking his daughter and stealing his crown.  Ursula's cold demeanor brings out Triton's compassionate side.

SELF--The Trident.  The object that commands power over the sea and the mer-people.  As ruler of the ocean, it rightfully embodies Triton's authority and will.  For example, when the Trident is in the hands of Ursula, he withers away into a polyp.



DREAMER--Scuttle.  A scatterbrained seagull that likes to give Ariel 'advice,' obsessed with the human world.  A freelancer.

SHADOW--Sebastian.  Logical, unwilling to break the rules, protecting, smooth, likes to have a plan in mind.  Obsessed with the mer-world.

POSITIVE ANIMA/US--Max (Eric's dog).  Helps Scuttle to gather up the creatures of the sea to fight Vanessa.  Playful and loyal.

SELF--His ruffled up feathers.  Seriously, they're sticking all over the place, just like his personality.  One moment he's offering Ariel a fork as a comb, then he's singing (badly), and then he's undergoing the tremendous task of taking out the most powerful Sea Witch.

MJ#5 Hansel and Gretel Revamped

"G'morning papa!" cried Hansel.

"G'morning papa!" cried Gretel.

"G'morning little ones!" the woodcutter playfully tousled his two children's' hair.

"Oh stop it!  We don't want the neighbors thinking we're so poor our children don't know how to brush their hair," sniffed the ever-pleasurable Volindra.

The woodcutter quickly withdrew his hand from the scathing look his second wife had turned upon him.

"I'm sorry my love," he whimpered in her direction.

"Although we may as well be that poor. I don't see how you expect me to fix breakfast with half a loaf of bread."

"I-"

"Go on! Get to work!"

"But-"

"Move!"

With a sigh at the lack of breakfast and pleasantness in the house, the poor woodcutter took his leave.

"And as for you little scoundrels," Volindra scowled, "No breakfast until you're done with your chores."

The little girl and the little boy looked sadly at the empty dishes before them and scooted off their little stools.  They scrubbed the floor and weeded the garden and swept the chimney and performed countless other menial tasks that their stepmother thought up while she munched on the bread.  Volindra finally tired of watching her husband's children slave away when the woodcutter trudged in, eyes bright with the prospect of food.

The little boy and girl darted towards him with the intention of wrapping their tiny limbs around his legs, but the boy tripped over the stool and Volindra's favourite vase tumbled to the somewhat shiny floor.

"That is it! Out! Out! You little demons!  How dare you break the only thing worth anything in this house..." [Insert lecture here]. After a passionate and somewhat venomous dialogue, the stepmother finally tired of hearing her own voice and turned to her husband declaring, "YOU."

"Me?"

"Take them into the woods and let them wander around until someone else finds them.  We have too many mouths to feed."

"But-"

"NOW."

Downtrodden but in no way willing to face the wrath of his second wife, the woodcutter obliged and led his children out of the house.  On the way out the door, he slipped the remnants of the bread into his son's pocket.  The children followed the woodcutter deep into the forest.  As they went, Hansel dribbled a trail of bread crumbs to lead them back home.  Too bad the birds of the forest were hungry too.

After many teary hugs and choked goodbyes, the woodcutter finally lost the courage to avoid his wife any longer.  Hansel and Gretel watched their beloved father trudge away in disbelief.  Gretel collapsed to the ground in defeat.

"Don't worry, little sister.  I've left a trail of bread crumbs for us to follow home."

But, of course, now the birds were no longer hungry.

They wandered around the forest for the rest of the day before realizing that they were hopelessly lost.  They spent the night in a bed of leaves, lying back to back to conserve what little heat their skinny bodies could produce.  Shivering the next morning, Hansel and Gretel stumbled out of the trees.  A large grassy meadow framed the most beautiful thing the children had ever seen: towers of chocolate, sugar coated glass, frosting mortar, biscuit doors, candy flowers.  They found the last of their strength and bolted for the confectionery building.

And then it was theirs.  The sweet, rich, buttery goodness they never could have afforded.  They ate and ate until their sunken bellies bulged.  And then they ate more.  A tight pressure pinched the children's collars and a hideous woman came into view as their feet dangled below them.

"I see you found my garden."

The children hardly dared to breathe at this apparition, this warty, disfigured woman.  The vice grip on the back of their necks vanished and they crumpled.

"Where are my manners? You must be hungry, children.  Please, come inside and eat some real food."

Relieved the old woman wasn't going to punish them, the children happily obliged.  And what a meal it was!  The table was furnished with gravy smothered turkey, exotic fruits and vegetables  that neither Hansel nor Gretel had even heard of let alone tasted, and five different pies along with a thick stew, rice, jam, and curry.  The old woman sat the children down and filled their plates several times over.  Drowsy from the turkey, Hansel and Gretel's eyes slid closed, little heads slumped over their shoulders.

Jocelyn smiled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hansel frowned at the hard, cold surface leeching the warmth of sleep out of him.  He bolted upward, slamming his head into the top of what he realized was a cage. Hands twined around the bars, seeking escape.

"Help! Help me!"

It was Gretel, scrunched up in an even smaller container than Hansel. The salty wash of despair reverberated between the siblings. They peered about the bare room, black as Death.  Harsh light exploded into the room as the old woman flung the door open.  Her unnaturally white teeth bared in a pleased snarl.

"It's been ages since I've had a snack.  That's all you are.  A snack.  Until I get a little more meat those pathetic frames."

She slurped noisily at the prospect.

Gretel buried her face in her sleeve.  Hansel was tempted to do the same but he needed to protect his little sister.

"Our parents know where we went and they'll be here soon," Hansel shouted at her.

Jocelyn laughed, "You've been asleep for three days and I've seen neither hide nor tail of another living being beyond you tasty morsels.  Now you, girl.  Stop your whimpering.  You will help me with the housework."

Gretel soon discovered that 'helping' with the housework really meant 'completely and totally scrubbing down the entire house and preparing the ingredients for children stew.'  Meanwhile, Jocelyn set the two on a strict 20-meals-a-day-not-including-dessert diet.  Despite Hansel's attempts to hide the food in his clothing and Gretel's attempts to throw it out the window, both children had definitely put on some weight. Luckily, Jocelyn had the vision of a brick wall so she couldn't tell how large they were getting.  She periodically would ask to pinch Hansel's finger through the bars in the cage to see if he was 'done yet.'  Clever Hansel poked one of the many turkey bones through every time.

"You're still much too skinny!"  she would proclaim and then stuff a chicken pot pie through the small slot in the bars.  After a week of bone pinching, Jocelyn grew tired of waiting.

Fire up the ovens, love!" she cackled at the girl.

Gretel reluctantly waddled over to the large stone grate, "Do you want me to make more chicken pot pies?"

"No.  I want to make children pot pies!"

With that, wicked woman snatched Gretel by the hair and dragged her over to the cutting board.

"Start chopping," she snarled.

The fires grew larger and larger.

"Go check and see if the oven's hot enough."

Gretel gulped.  Did she have the courage?

"Go check it yourself."

"You ungrateful little..." Jocelyn lunged towards her with a large wooden spoon.

"I mean...I've never made children before.  I'm not sure how hot the oven should be.  You don't want me to mess up your recipe do you?"

Jocelyn glared suspiciously at her for a moment before nodding, "That's true.  I don't want you to burn."

The horrible, old hag hobbled over to the oven and bowed her already crooked spine over the flames. Gretel took one large breath for strength and shoved the witch right in, slamming the door behind her.  The resulting scream still wakes her up in the middle of the night, the high pitched wail of no hope, bitter life, and insanity.

Gretel raced into the room where Hansel was furiously trying to break free of his confines thinking the hideous screeching was the last of his sister's life.

"I-I pushed her in."

Gretel fell to her knees in respect for Death and her role in it.

"C'mon sis.  We've got to get out of here."

Gretel finally found the keys, as well as a strange chocolate egg, in a drawer in the kitchen.  She held her breath the whole time so she would have to inhale the stench of burning flesh.  The key went in the lock and they were free.

Two days later, Hansel and Gretel were wandering though the forest looking for anything, anything to lead them home.

"Shh!"

"What?"

"Do you hear that?"

The steady beat of an axe on wood assailed their ears and they started running.

"Papa! Papa!" they cried.

And they were in his arms.

"Children!  Children, I missed you so much!  Your stepmother died and I- I should have-"

He brushed his beard on both of their foreheads in a kiss.

"Look!  We brought you back this present!" Gretel exclaimed holding up the chocolate egg.

The woodcutter gladly bit into the chocolate but immediately dropped it, clutching at his teeth in pain.  Under a thin chocolate layer was an egg of solid gold.

The poor family stared in disbelief.

"I guess you don't have to cut wood anymore."