Welcome to my Random Friday Prompt! This week, let’s create a mashup. My story below is a mashup of “Hansel & Gretel” by the Brothers Grimm with the Hannibal Lecter character from author Thomas Harris. (I published it previously in my book Burnt Offerings.) You can mash up whatever you like… tv shows, stories, songs, etc., to create an original work. Poems, flash fiction, personal essays… all are welcome, and there is no time limit. I look forward to reading your work.
He’s heard the rumors, sure, and it takes him a few days to work up his nerve. Standing in a clearing, feeling the sun’s warmth on his pate, he observes the small cottage. Pastel roof tiles of aqua, pink, and lemon gleam like glazed candies, while cream-colored stucco glitters in whorls, reminiscent of icing upon a cake. She rebuilt the house, they said, using insurance money received after a kitchen fire. Her aunt apparently perished in the blaze. Sad. Ovens can be tricky, he knows. A shadow floats behind the curtained window, and, determined, he trudges onward, away from the damp, dark forest. Grass crunches beneath his boots, and he smiles down at its ever-resilient sharp greenness. His senses tingle now, his spine sizzling with anticipation, hunger even. Oh, it has been too long, he realizes as he touches her porch railing. It’s sticky, smelling faintly of licorice.
“Yes?” she says with a doughy smile.
Her plump blondeness pleases him. She’s wearing a sky blue short-sleeved dress, and the pale flesh of her arms looks inviting, popping fresh. “Hallo,” he says. “I’m your neighbor from across the way.” He gestures vaguely toward the trees.
“Ah. That would be the grey house then?”
“That’s the one.” He proffers the package. “I brought you a gift. Hope it’s okay. You never know what will offend people these days.”
“Chianti,” she says. “Lovely. Thank you.”
He beams. “You’re very welcome. I’m rather new in the area myself. Wouldn’t mind making a friend, as it were.”
“Of course.” Looking him over, she nods. “Won’t you come in? Perhaps for a cup of tea, or we could even open the wine. Must be five o’clock somewhere.”
Chuckling at her little joke, he says, “I’d be honored, my dear.”
“I’m Greta, by the way.” She licks her lips as he steps inside. “What’s your name?”
“Hannibal.” He shuts the door behind him.
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