The Twins

inspired by Neil Gaiman's "Snow, Glass, Apples"

It was just weeks after my husband’s death when I found them unconscious in the woods – a boy and a girl of the same age with tattered clothes and stains of blood with feathers on their hands. Scattered close to them were breadcrumbs. I hurriedly asked help from the village people to carry them home; and took care of them.

I am a widow of a baker. The children fondly calls my house, “The House made of Bread and Candies” because I always give them candies together with the bread they bought. The people of my village go to me to buy bread every morning and also foretell their destinies. I have the gift of premonition. But I can never tell what my future is. If I did know what it was, I never would have let the twins live in my home.

They did not wake until I had the dream: I was in a different house. It was quite dainty considering that the outside was full of trees; and it was fall. I was with a man who I feel is my husband. We were at the doorsteps. In front of us were the two children with the same age as they are now but their clothes were not torn; brown stains on their hands.

My husband (in the dream) and I held the children’s hands and welcomed them to our home. Suddenly, the scene changed. I was taken aback with what I saw. What lay in the yard was my husband’s corpse; his guts scattered on the ground as if a wild animal had hungrily preyed on him. Beside him was a trail of rocks. I followed it. It went through the woods to a clearing. No one was there. I lost my balance while walking to the end of the trail (this may be due to the trauma I experienced). I fell on my belly and all of a sudden I felt a thud on my back.

The next scene that followed was a revelation. I was now lying on my back and the twins were feasting on my insides…

I awoke exhausted from the dream I had. I tried to feel my belly with my hands. In the dark I saw the silhouette of the twins; they’re still in their bed sleeping.

I wasn’t able to go back to sleep that night.

I saw the sun’s rays creeping through the window – to the twin’s bed. In the morning light, their skin were as white as the milk that I get from my cow every morning. But today I would not get any milk from Daisy.

As I was kneading the dough for the day’s breads, two hands grab hold of my arm. I was startled to see that the twins were awake. I tried not to flinch. I gave them both a faint smile and said, “Hello there you two. What do you want for breakfast?” They did not speak but instead pointed at Daisy.

I hurriedly got an ax and cut the head of Daisy off. I wanted to scream and cry while I was chopping the limbs of my poor Daisy.

They ate the carcass like two hungry hyenas competing for food. I went back to kneading the dough again.

Days passed and I started exchanging my bread for meat from the villagers that would buy from me. In fear that the twins might murder and eat me.
The villagers started to get suspicious. No one dared to go to me and be foretold of his or her future.

The children of the village threw rocks on my house and shouted, “Witch! In that house is a witch!” Rumor broke that I’ve been feeding the twins so they’d be plump for the picking; eating them after they have grown.

The twins learned of this rumor and created a scheme to lay death upon me; so their secret would die with me and they may feast upon the rest of the villagers.

One morning, while I was getting the bread I baked out of kiln, they pushed me in, closed the kiln’s door and shouted, “Witch, witch, witch! You ought to be there witch!” It was like a chant they repeated over and over. Soon after, the villagers began entering my house chanting, jeering and laughing.

As I watched the twins celebrate with the villagers a scene flashed in my head: The girl locks the door. As the chants, jeers and laughs of the villagers grew more intense; the boy started the feeding frenzy by putting one-man unconscious and then tearing off his limbs. The loud jeers and laughs were replaced by screams and cries for help.

The girl leaps on the villagers like a tiger knocking each one unconscious.

The boy, in turn, opens the villager’s chest and feasts on their beating heart.

The scene fades.

Once more I hear the villagers’ voices echoing inside the kiln. The twins gave me a faint smile as I collapse and gasp for my last breath