Ginge

In the heart of a dark forest, nestled within a gingerbread house that exuded an irresistible aroma, resided the Gingerbread Man known as Ginge. Created by the infamous baker Jakof Gustofoson, Ginge was a wicked cookie who enjoyed luring unwary victims to his home, where he subjected them to a slow, agonizing torture before he feasted upon them. The dark molasses used to make him was a reflection Ginge’s shriveled soul.

Several Yuletides ago, dry firewood became scarce in the village of Beggar’s Hole when the north wind blew strong and the snow drifted deep. Villagers took to wearing all their clothing, and mothers began burning the furniture to cook meager meals for their families. Children were playing less outside, and staying more inside their cramped houses, while fathers were finding less game to bring home to feed their families. To make matters worse, with each passing day, fewer and fewer men were coming home.

In Ginge’s cozy abode, warmth and abundance prevailed. He had ample supplies from those he had enticed in from the harsh cold. Occasionally, the victims would arrive with offerings of dry firewood, wild game, or tubers enhancing the meal he would make of them. Ginge’s strategy was simple: sit back and await the arrival of his prey.

One day, when very few men were left in the village, a small group of children gathered and decided it was up to them to sally forth into the deep of the woods, braving the rumors of Ginge, to bring back the dry firewood and edible roots their mothers needed to feed them. The oldest, a boy, carried his slingshot, intent on hunting any snow rabbits he might see.

The children, huddled close together, shivered not only from the cold but also from fear as they ventured deeper into the eerie darkness of the forest. Despite their apprehension, the group pressed on, their eyes scanning for supplies they could bring back to their homes. The youngest of the group couldn’t help but let out whimpers as the group courageously carried forth with their search.

The deeper the children explored the forest, the darker the day became and the stranger the scenery. Feeling watched by a malignant being, the children cautiously entered a clearing with the most beautiful candied house they had ever seen. The children swore they heard an eerie whispering coming as they made their way to the house.

*

“In a gingerbread house, a wicked monstrosity dwells,

A menace to mortals in forest and dells.

Baked by Gustofoson, the infamous baker,

Ginge’s heart is black as coal, a faker.

*

Luring victims with a sweet scent so strong,

To his gingerbread home, where darkness is long.

Torture unfolds, slow and agonizing,

Ginge’s delight, his twisted devising.

*

No mercy he shows, not a compassion's trace,

Evil incarnate, a gingerbread menace.

But beware, traveler, if you dare to tread,

The gingerbread house where the monster’s soul resides is dead.

*

Run, run fast, while you still have breath,

Escape the clutches of Ginge’s dark death.

For in his presence, the danger lies deep,

And in his gingerbread house, nightmares never sleep.”

*

Too exhausted to stop and see if any candied decorations were real, they advanced to the door and saw it ajar. Pushing it further open, the oldest halloed to anyone that may have been inside. When he got no response, the group stepped over the threshold into the fantastical interior of the gingerbread house. As they stared in amazement at the delicious delicacies around them, they heard a maniacal laugh and the door slammed shut, locking them inside the sweetbread house that was not what it seemed, but a craftily laid trap.

Screaming from fright, the children ran deeper into the maze of the cursed house. Eventually entering the kitchen, they halted in sheer fright, for before them was Ginge’s abattoir, the place where he butchered his prey and prepared them for his meal. Arms, legs, and torsos of the men of their village, and a few from surrounding towns, were hung helter-skelter from the rafters. The sickly sweet odor of roasting humans could be smelt wafting from the oven on the far side of the large kitchen. In a large cauldron by the fire, there appeared to be several heads boiling with onions, carrots, and potatoes.

It was a truly disgusting, disturbing sight, one that young children had no right to see. The children might have remained frozen in terror, but they could hear the gingered abomination drawing near. Knowing they could not return the way they had come, they looked for a way out, but it appeared that the kitchen was a dead end with only one door and no windows.

As they quickly searched, the oldest child began forming an idea. Unsure his scheme would work, he quickly put his plan in motion. He started by telling one of the other older children to fill a bucket at the sink, while he grabbed something from the fridge. The rest gathered whatever they could use as a weapon, and then all the children gathered in a tight group and trepidly waited.

They didn’t have long to wait, for soon the sugared freak was standing in the archway of the kitchen, his maniacal laughter echoing off the rafters in the room. The gingerbread monster stood a good 6’ and was as wide as he was tall. His candy decorations shone as if he shined them daily and his icing trimming appeared to be repiped with care every day. Perhaps the scariest part about Ginge’s appearance was the sharpened candied fangs in his mouth that he proudly showed off.

As Ginge roared and rampaged, he sniffed the air for the fear that exuded off of the children. He wasn’t disappointed, for the children were full of fear, but there was something mixed in that he wasn’t expecting. He was surprised to get a whiff of a fight from prey this young. Roaring with rage, he let out one last laugh and charged at the children, throwing gumball drops as he ran towards them.

The oldest hollered out, “NOW!”

And all the children separated and ran.

The one with a bucket from the sink tossed the contents on the floor before Ginge, who then slipped on the slicked waxed floor.

The oldest one threw a large jug of milk at the charging gingered monstrosity hitting him on the left side of his body and softening the hard cookie.

The rest of the children ran forward with their weapons and began hitting the candied abomination. They broke off Ginge’s left arm and leg, effectively knocking him down and disabling him.

Before the sugared maneater could recover himself, the oldest boy, who had found a gas can full of kerosene, began dumping the contents of the can in the kitchen. Telling the other kids to go, he pulled his slingshot, ran to the kitchen door, and aimed at a mantle lamp on the wall and shot it, effectively starting a fire in the room, before he hurriedly followed the other children from the house.

As the group of children ran away from the house, they could hear the death cries of the evil monster and smell the acrid aroma of burning gingerbread. When they made it back to the village, they may have been empty-handed, but they had a tale to tell.