The True Story of Hansel and Gretel by Louise Murphy Page B

slept in the dark and got up when it was light.
    Days had gone by when the priest returned. With him was a man carrying a knapsack. Gretel saw them moving through the trees, and she drew Hansel behind her. The man was as ragged as the priest but younger and more frightened.
    The two men went into the hut. Then Magda came outside. “Children?”
    Hansel stared up into his sister’s face, and Gretel felt the weight of taking care of him come down on her. She could hardly breathe.
    The new man didn’t look like a German. He was too thin. He looked too frightened.
    She stepped out from behind the tree, and the three adults watched them walk toward the hut. The priest laughed.
    “By God, the boy looks all right. A little odd with those dark eyes, but his skin’s so pale. It may work.”
    The other man said nothing.
    “It will work, and if not, then the wheel will go on.”
    It was something Magda said often. Gretel didn’t know what she meant.
    “Take their picture.”
    The new man spoke for the first time. “I have to get their heads just the right size. Then I cut them off and glue them over the other heads in the old photograph. Then I’ll take another photograph of the composite picture. It won’t be perfect, but if I age the picture a little—no one would notice without a good lens to study it.”
    “He’s going to cut our heads off,” Hansel whispered.
    “No. He won’t.” Gretel wasn’t sure.
    “You can’t cut my head off.” Hansel tried to pull away from Gretel’s hand and run.
    The priest grinned. “We’re not the Nazis. Just the head in the picture will be cut off.”
    Hansel was uncertain still, but the pictures of the children were taken. They stood separately and the man worked a long time to get the heads at a proper distance.
    “It’s done,” the man said to the priest. “Give me the First Communion pictures tonight. The girl will be harder. I have to make her look younger. Maybe one picture will blur just a fraction. Maybe if she blinked.”
    He grabbed Gretel by the shoulder and stared at her eyes. “When I say blink you will blink very slowly. Do you understand?”
    She nodded. He cried out the word and she closed her eyes and then opened them slowly while he took another picture.
    And it was done. Seven more days of the light and dark coming and going, and the priest came back with a package.
    Magda unwrapped the pictures. “That’s a nice touch, using old frames.” Magda stroked the wood gently. “Come look at what Christians you are, children.”
    Gretel and Hansel looked at the photographs that lay on the table. Hansel smiled. He looked wonderful. Below his face, which had a startled expression, was the body of a boy fatter than Hansel. He wore a black suit with short pants, clean white socks, and shiny shoes. There was a white flower in the lapel of the suit and a white ribbon with a bow was fastened around the sleeve of the suit on the child’s left arm.
    “My shoes are beautiful.”
    “Those aren’t your shoes.” Gretel was angry.
    “Yes they are.” Hansel was complacent. “I remember them.”
    Gretel stared at the picture of the girl. It was her but it wasn’t her. The girl had blinked and her face was a tiny bit blurred. You couldn’t say how old the face was, but the body—
    “I was never like that.” Gretel frowned.
    “Yes, you were. I remember.” Hansel picked up his picture and cradled it in his arms.
    “You weren’t born then.” Gretel stared at the five-year-old girl in a white dress who carried a bouquet of white flowers and stared out with blurry eyes.
    “I remember.” Hansel smiled. “I want to hang it where I sleep.”
    The priest patted the boy on his head. “Now listen, children. These are your photographs of your First Communion. It is when you took the body of our Lord for the first time. Magda will explain all this to you.”
    He turned and grinned at Magda. “You have to teach them all of it. The prayers. How to behave at Communion.