“Hansel,” came an exhausted voice. “Look…”

The river had frozen the twins thoroughly, but when he followed Gretel’s shaking finger the young boy felt an icy shiver down his spine.

The witch waited for them, only a few yards away.

Her dress was black and sent embers to the ground as two focused eyes looked right at the children.

They’d been swimming for a while, but Gretel took a somewhat steady step toward the phantom. “What do you want?! Leave us be!”

But the witch did as it had done every time it appeared, and produced a bright green apple.

It wasn’t real, and when Gretel took an angry step the witch vanished.

Hansel sat heavily on the riverbank and squeezed his knees together.

“We have to go back…”

His sister joined him, and sudden sunlight bathed the two in weak rays.

“I don’t… I don’t understand…” she whispered.

But Hansel did.

“The apple tree we ran past.”

Gretel leaned her sodden head against his shoulder. “What tree?”

“When we escaped, after locking the oven. We ran past a tree that had an apple on it.”

“So?”

Hansel rested his own head on top of hers. “I think… I think she wants to be buried properly.”

“That old hag tried to eat us.”

“In the book I read while in that cage, it said something about spirits needing rest. Do you want that witch to haunt us?”

The twins were silent for a long while, and the question answered itself.

Shakily, but finding some strength - Hansel and Gretel waded into the frigid waters, headed back to the candy house of horrors.