The Witch, the Twins and the Fire That Lit Up Miami!

The prison walls hummed with the fluorescent buzz of institutional apathy, but the two doe-eyed arsonists across from me seemed blissfully unaware.

Hansel and Gretel, fresh-faced and annoyingly symmetrical (in an uncanny valley sort of way), had come to America with dreams of stardom and ended up burning down Miami’s most infamous nightclub, Candy Land.

Their mugshots had already become icons, plastered on glittery pastel T-shirts and mugs. The media circus outside was relentless, each camera flash a reminder that infamy is just another form of celebrity.

But here, sitting on hard metal chairs, they were just two naive kids trying to make sense of the chaos they had unleashed.

Hansel frowned, his brows furrowing as though the effort of thinking was almost too much to bear.
"Ve vorked so hard," he said, his accent thick and earnest.
"Ze singing, ze dancing… ve did it all."

Gretel nodded emphatically, her bleached hair bobbing like a rubber ducky in a bathtub.
"Every day," she added, "at ze schools, ze malls—everyvere! Ve sang, ve danced, ve smiled until our faces hurt."

"Ja," Hansel said, his unnaturally blue eyes widening with sincerity.
"And ze vorst part?" He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Ve veren't even paid!"

I blinked, struggling to process.
"You weren’t paid for any of it?"

"No," Gretel gasped, her hands fluttering to her chest as if the thought alone was enough to give her a heart attack.
"She said she vas investing in us. Building ze brand."

The Witch—a Miami legend, her name whispered in the halls of every failing talent agency from here to Orlando. She had managed Tiana, Rapunzel, and Snow White—each of them now incredibly successful, raking in millions with solo careers and lifestyle brands.

But Hansel and Gretel? They were just another pair of discarded dreamers, trapped in her web of promises.

"When ve veren't singing," Hansel continued, "ve vorked in ze kitchen."

"Baking candies," Gretel said, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"For hours," Hansel added, looking genuinely traumatized by the memory of gumdrops and licorice.

"Ve vere indentured servents,"Gretel declared.

"Viz sugar," Hansel clarified.

"Were there others?" I prompted, sensing a deeper story beneath their wide-eyed naïveté.

They exchanged a glance, something heavy and unspoken passing between them.

"Ze Witch took in others like us," Gretel said softly.
"Kids viz no families, nozing to go back to. She promised all of us ve could be stars, like Cinderella and ze others."

"But ve vere just… vorkers," Hansel finished, his voice breaking on the word.

The media would call them criminals, arsonists, but here, in this cold cell, they were just two exploited kids who had finally decided to burn the whole goddamn place down and expose The Witch for who she was.

I glanced at my notes, trying to sift through the half-truths and miscommunications, attempting to get their side of things.

"You set the fire," I said, more a statement than a question.

Hansel stared at his hands, large and calloused from hours kneading dough and gripping microphones.
"Ve did vat ve had to," he said quietly.

Gretel’s gaze hardened, a glimmer of something sharp and defiant breaking through her doll-like facade.
"Ve vere tired of vorking for nozink," she said.
"Of being lied to," Hansel added.

"So you burned Candy Land," I pressed.

"It vas already burning," Hansel said, with the conviction of someone who still didn’t quite grasp the concept of cause and effect.

Gretel smiled, a slow, sweet thing that didn’t reach her eyes.
"Ve made sure of zat."

Outside, the crowd chanted their names—celebrating, condemning, but always watching.

Here in the cell, Hansel and Gretel were just the latest sacrifices in the Witch’s twisted tale of broken dreams and burned bridges.

I closed my notebook, feeling the familiar weight of disgust, empathy, and the desperate need to alter reality with a hit of something strong.

Hansel grinned at me, oblivious and beautiful.
"Ve are still famous, ja?"

Gretel nodded,in agreement, eyes bright and teary with naïve optimism.
"Ve are stars, no matter vat."

And I realized then that they were right.

In America, even the arsonists are celebrities.

Before I departed, Hansel said something to me I wouldn’t forget.

"Candy Land didn’t burn… ve just showed everyone it vas already melted."

…

I couldn't get a hold of my buddy, so I stopped by a dive called Ted’s Getaway.

It was quiet, aside from the selections of divorced dad rock usually made by Ted’s patrons.

Whitesnake was blaring from the jukebox, and a wiry fellow I met when I arrived—Skeeter, long stringy gray hair, the deep tan of a man who lived his life too close to the sun—was playing air guitar, lip-syncing like his soul depended on it.

"Here I go again on my own… going down the only road I've ever known…"

I swirled my bourbon, skimming through half-legible notes, smudged and stained with coffee, sweat, and whatever stale despair always clings to you when you visit a jail.

Candy Land was gone.
The Witch was on the run.
Hansel and Gretel were rotting in a barred cell but more famous than ever.

And now, the news anchor was back on the screen, and I forgot about my drink entirely.

She was a redhead. My weakness.

(Ask my ex-wife.)

Curves like a ‘58 Cadillac, a voice like honey laced with arsenic, and a twinkle in her blue eyes that said she knew exactly what she was doing—on and off the clock.

Her name flashed on the screen.

Sloane Fairchild – WZMI Miami News

Of course, her name was Sloane Fairchild. No woman built like that is named Susan.

She adjusted her papers and flashed a smile so well-practiced it could sell beachfront property during a hurricane.

"Candy Land, once Miami’s most iconic nightclub and tourist destination, is now nothing more than a pile of charred rubble."

The screen cut to drone footage of the wreckage—twisted beams that used to be peppermint poles, the burned husk of what had once been a chocolate fountain, melted gumdrops sinking into the ash like tiny, colorful gravestones.

"But for years, the nightclub wasn’t just a hotspot for tourists wanting to take Instagram-worthy photos at the club famous for being made entirely out of candy—it was a cornerstone of Miami’s nightlife, home to some of the biggest names in the music industry."

A montage played—Candy Land’s neon sugar glass chandeliers, floors tiled in caramelized hard candy that glowed under the lights, walls lined with marshmallow tufted booths.

"Performers under the Witch’s management included industry titans like Tiana, Rapunzel, and Snow White—each of whom has since launched incredibly successful solo careers. But before the fire, Candy Land was set to host none other than pop sensation Sabrina Carpenter, in what was expected to be the nightclub’s biggest performance to date."

The image shifted to a grainy photo of the Witch, her sharp features half-hidden behind oversized designer sunglasses, stepping out of a luxury car that probably wasn’t in her name.

"Now, the woman behind the empire is on the run, leaving behind furious investors and a media circus scrambling for answers."

The screen cut to a man sobbing on TikTok, gripping what appeared to be a burnt lollipop encased in resin.

The caption read:

‘I put my life savings into Candy Land… THIS WAS MY DREAM.’

Another video featured a woman in a blue sensible pantsuit, standing in front of the ruins, screaming about lawsuits while sipping a branded energy drink.

Then it cut to her again, recording herself crying behind a ring light while mascara and crocodile tears ran down her cheeks.

"The investors who poured millions into Candy Land’s sugar-coated empire have taken to social media, documenting their losses. Hashtags like #FindTheWitch and #CandyLandScam have gone viral, as backers call for justice."

The bartender snorted. "People are dumb as hell."

I barely heard her low husky voice. I was too busy watching the next segment, where the fans of Hansel & Gretel had taken over the internet.

"Court footage of Hansel and Gretel has gone viral, with fans praising their defiance against the exploitative industry that chews up hopefuls and spits them out. Some are even calling them martyrs in the class war."

The screen cut to one of the edits.

Slow-motion footage of Hansel flipping his hair, Gretel pursing her lips in mock innocence. Their clueless courtroom antics were now legendary, edited into viral videos, set to dramatic orchestral music.

A voiceover from a fan video played over it, dripping with manufactured sympathy.

"They were just kids… They wanted to be stars… They were forced to work for free in a sugar factory… And when they fought back? They were made into criminals."

The bartender chuckled. "Damn shame. What will society ever do without another pop star duo?" She rolled her eyes.

I sipped my bourbon and watched the circus play out in real-time.

And then came the worst part.

Sloane Fairchild’s voice dropped into that smooth, deliberate tone that tells you the kicker is coming.

"One thing is certain—Hansel & Gretel may have burned Candy Land to the ground, but their star power is burning brighter than ever."

I slammed my drink down so hard bourbon sloshed over my notes, soaking them into a blurred mess.

"Christ," I muttered. I was going to have to stay in Miami a little longer.

I needed to talk to Sloane Fairchild.

Not just for the story—but because she was the only person in this entire goddamn city who looked like she actually knew what was going on.

And maybe, just maybe, because I was a weak man when it came to well-endowed redheads with a thirst for justice… and a talent for making men regret their life choices.

The bartender, who had been silently wiping the counter, let out a dry chuckle.

"Careful with that one," she said, nodding toward the TV.

I raised an eyebrow. "Sloane?"

She smirked, tossing the rag over her shoulder. "She’s got a reputation."

I took another sip of bourbon, watching the screen fade to commercial, Sloane’s knowing smirk lingering in my mind.

I had a feeling she was about to make my life very, very complicated.

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*If you enjoyed this, check out Vol. 1 and 2. Of this series, imbedded in the links below 👇 😊