“Your house is seven-hundred-year-old candy house? Like in Hansel and Gretel?”
Rosina lit up. “You know Hansel and Gretel?”
“I know the story. Everyone knows the story.”
“Everyone?”
“Sure. Parents tell it to their kids. It’s a classic. Two kids find a gingerbread house in the woods and become prisoners of a wicked old witch who tries to eat them, but they outwit her and burn her up in her own oven.”
Rosina nodded, her face melancholy. “Those two had gumption, not like today’s fat, lazy kinder with their whining, and demands, and electronics.”
“Are you telling me, you are the witch from the story?”
“I am.”
“But Gretel pushed her in the oven and killed her.”
Rosina cackled. “It takes more than embers
and charcoal to kill a real witch, mein Liebling.” “Are you still in the business of capturing
and eating little children?” Sky joked in an attempt to disarm this crazy lady sitting across from him.
“Ja. Eating, ja. Capturing, no. They come willingly.”
“Children come willingly to your house to be eaten?”
“Ja. With their parents. I run it as an Airbnb.
Eight hundred euros a night per bed.”
“I suppose you eat the parents too?”
“Every once in a while, I’m tempted to, but just one night of that unbearable indigestion is enough to remind me how tough and grisly adults are. The kinder are best, but not today’s kinder… they have no life, no spirit in them. They taste as bad as the adults sometimes.” Rosina shook her head.
“You run it as an Airbnb? And people don’t mind when you eat their children?”
“It is clearly spelled out in the contract, consumption of kinder may be rendered as partial payment.” She tapped her finger on the arm of her chair in emphasis, as she said partial payment.
“Nobody reads contracts any more. Is this my fault? My contract is only a single page long and the cannibalism clause is bolded, highlighted, and requires initials. No one reads any more. They smell the streusel, watch their gleeful little pig- gy-kinder lick the shutters, and sign.”
“Do you eat all the children who stay?” “Look at me, Mr. Rothschild. How much do
you think I can eat? One child, properly butchered can make a month’s worth of meals.”
“And there’s no, Mr. Leckermaul?”
“Do you not see the red bollenhut?” She asked pointing to her crazy hat and shaking her head. “No, it’s just me, except during coven gatherings. Now, my coven polishes off one or two kinder easily during festivals.”
“You share the guests with your friends?”
“Of course, they are my coven. In fact, my friend Endora has been trying to convince me forever to go into business with her on a second guesthouse for witches. She thinks we could charge double, assuming meals would be included.”
“Did you say eight hundred euros a night? That’s over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year for the B and B you’re running now?” Sky asked, doing all the calculations and conversions in his head.
“Kein, that’s just for one bed, the house has six. I’m clearing one point five million euros a year now.”
“You’re bringing that in and could have a second house pulling in double? Why on Earth are you selling?”
“The fun is gone. The kinder are awful and their parents are stupid. There’s no challenge, they don’t need fattening, they never try to run away.” Rosina’s eyes narrowed and her nose and lips wrinkled, like she tasted something rotten.
“The freude is gone,” she sighed. “I’m done with all of it. In fact, I’m going vegan. Blue Puter found me an app,’ thirty days to a happy belly.’”
Sky leaned back in his thick Herman Miller Embody chair, his fingers intertwined except for his pointer fingers, which he pressed together and bounced on his lips. She had a nearly four million dollar a year enterprise on her hands. Sky thought of his last meeting with his accountant. Ira insist- ed that it was time to diversify. Business had gone exceptionally well since Sky left Christie’s International two years ago and struck out on his own, but real estate is a volatile, risky venture. Ira stressed the need for a new, steady cash stream, it didn’t have to be much, but it needed to be consistent.
Sky stood and offered his hand. “Ms. Leckermaul I’m quite glad you came to me with this opportunity. This is going to be a big win for both of us.” They smiled as they shook hands.
“Oh, and that friend you mentioned? Endo- ra? How might I get in touch with her?”
About the Author
Katrinka Mannelly writes and lives in Tacoma, Washington with her husband Brian, daughter Tigist, dog Apollo and cat Riptide. Section 130 is Katrinka’s first foray into fiction writing. For the past 23 years she has been scripting museum projects. She started developing content and writing for museums in 1994 and has since worked for over 30 museums, zoos and aquariums. Her writing has appeared in museums across the country including the Smithsonian, National Museum of Natural History, Washington, D.C. She has proudly contributed to the authoring of educational CD-ROMs and web sites.
Look for more books from Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC – E-books, paperbacks and Limited-Edition hardcovers.
The best in history, science fiction and fantasy at:
https://www.wingedhussarpublishing.com
Follow us on Facebook at: Winged Hussar Publishing LLC
Or on twitter at:
WingHusPubLLC
For information and upcoming publications
Section 130 Page 11
