Sweetener

 “Now ma'am, the terms of your parole are very specific on how you're allowed to decorate your home,” Officer Krause said, before cautiously taking a sip of his tea. Not only was the house was too dark to tell if the cup was clean, but the ogress always added too much sugar. Careful to hide his grimace, he set the cup back on the saucer.

“I've done nothing wrong.” The wart on the ogress's nose bobbed in agitation.

“Ma'am, we've had reports of peppermints—”

“Lies! Who told you that? I'll cut off their—”

“You'll do what ma'am?” Krause leaned forward with sudden interest.

“Nothing. I'll do nothing. I wouldn't hurt a flea.”

“That's what I like to hear. Now back to the reason for my visit, recently there have been reports of the following prohibited decorations: gingerbread shutters, liquorice-lined window sills and a walkway pebbled with jellybeans.”

“Well, you don't see any of that here now, do you?”

“No, but I did find these…” Krause held out a few small candy letters, “on your mailbox.”

“That doesn't prove anything. Anyone could have put those there.”

“I have a warrant to search the premises.”

Protest glinted in the ogress's eyes, but after a moment she managed to make a small noise of consent.

Abandoning his syrupy tea, Krause stood to begin his search. He knew exactly where to begin. He'd been here so many times he'd lost all hope that the ogress was capable of reform.

The stairs groaned under Klaus's heavy boots as he made his way down to the root cellar. The ogress lumbered so closely behind him, Krause feared their combined weight was going to crack the rotting boards. The lower they went the more dank and sour the air became. The ogress remained unusually quiet. Krause imagined she was too busy constructing her cover story.

Once they reached the bottom, Krause could see that the floor was littered with boxes of candy: gingerbread, liquorice, peppermints, jellybeans and more. Hanging from the ceiling like oversized bird cages, were several metal enclosures. They were all empty except for the last one. A young man with sandy blond hair, fine clothes and oddly familiar features, sat on the bottom of the cage.

“I'm Officer Krause, don't worry, I'll have you out of there in a few moments.”

“It's about time,” the young man said. He stood, causing the cage to swing back and forth. “This place is making me seasick.”

“I wasn't going to eat him,” the ogress said.

“Yes she was, she was fattening me up to put in the oven—”

“Lies! I wasn't—”

“Ma'am, the terms of your parole specifically state that you are not allowed to be within 500 meters of a child.”

“He's eighteen so he's legal.”

“It this true?” Krause asked the young man.

“It's true, but that doesn't give her the right to lock me up like this.”

“He's a thief,” the ogress shook her gnarled fist at her prisoner, “I was only keeping him until I could turn him over to the police.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “I didn't steal. All I took was some liquorice from her window sill, that's—”

“Lies! Don't believe him! He's a thief.”

“Silence. All of this…” Krause gestured at the boxes, “is being confiscated. I will send officers to collect it when I return to town. It will be in your best interest to cooperate with them, ma'am.”

“But it's—”

“And I will be writing a citation for the candy letters on your mailbox. You can expect to be the subject of more frequent inspections as well.”

“That's all you're doing to her? My father is mayor and he will demand that—”

“Schulz? Hansel Schulz?” Krause stared at the young man as if willing him to be anyone else.

“You didn't even recognize me?” Hansel sneered at Krause. “My father pays you people.”

“But … I rescued you from here before. You and your sister, many years ago … you should know better.”

“See? That proves she's not rehabilitated. She deserves to be burned alive, since that's what she was going to do to me.”

The ogress took a deep breath as if she was summoning the screech of a banshee. “L—”

“Ma'am you will not yell 'lies' again in my presence if you know what's good for you.” Krause possessed a lot of patience. It took a certain disposition to handle the never ending noncompliance he was subjected to in his job. But there was a limit.

“Are you threatening me with police brutality? Because—”

Krause silenced the ogress with a wave of his hand. He directed his next question to Hansel.

“Why did you come back?”

Hansel sighed. “It's the liquorice. I've never been able to get the taste out of my head.”

“But you knew what would happen…”

“Last time she lured me into her house. I though if I just grabbed it and ran, I would be able to get away. But then I became very tired and after that I can't remember anything until I woke up in this cage.”

“She started putting sleeping powders in her recipes years ago. You're lucky you didn't end up in her stew pot.”

“I told you I wasn't going to eat him! I—”

“Open the cage,” Krause said before she could continue.

Once Hansel was free, Krause escorted him outside. The ogress muttered something about calling her lawyer before slamming the door behind them. Krause suspected she would hide as much of the contraband as she could. He would have to advise the officers to bring dogs.

After the unpleasant atmosphere in the house, Krause was relieved to be back in the fresh air of the forest. After he took Hansel back to his father he was going to spend some time relaxing at the tavern. After he finished his paperwork of course.

“I guess you'll be wanting some kind of reward,” Hansel said. He sighed as if weary of the trials he found himself subjected to. “However, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell my father about this. I will give you a better reward if you let me give it to you in private.”

“I don't want a reward.” Krause began to examine the branches on a near by tree. After a moment he pulled his knife from its sheath.

“Sleeping powders … she's a crafty old hag. I guess the trick would be to wait till I got home to eat it. But then I'd just fall asleep there. If I could get her recipe book then I could have my cook make it for me all the time … what are you doing?”

“You seem to have a problem controlling your sweet tooth.” Krause began stripping the leaves off the branch he'd cut.

“Maybe, but you can't help what you like … what's that for?” Hansel's eyes were riveted to the switch. He began to inch away from Krause.

“I don't want you to ever go near her home again—not for a recipe, not for liquorice, not for anything.”

“I—I promise, I won't.”

Krause gestured for Hansel to come close.

“You're not—not really going to…”

Krause seized Hansel's arm and pulled him against him. He yanked down his breeches and then securely bent Hansel under his arm.

“You can't do this! My father's the mayor—”

The first stroke of the switch cut off Hansel's words. Krause could hear him sucking in air from the pain.

“Let me go.”

Krause gave him another stinging stroke that caused Hansel to wriggle under his arm.

“Let me go this instant or I'll have you hung!”

Again the branch swished through the air to finish with a snap against the pale, white flesh.

“That's the second time you've wanted someone condemned today.” Krause switched him a few times in quick succession.

“I'm not—I mean I wouldn't...”

Hansel appeared to be too preoccupied with the stinging to continue to argue. Gasps and the occasional yelp became all he was capable of. He tried to struggle free, but Krause only tightened his grip. Krause watched as the welted lines worked their way across the upturned bottom. He worked his way down until finally the switch stung Hansel where his buttocks met his thighs.

“Please,” Hansel whispered, for the first time he sounded genuinely plaintive.

Krause gave him a stripe or two more and then tossed the switch into the bushes.

Hansel got to his feet. Krause pretended not to notice as he pulled up his breeches and wiped the tears from his face.

“That wasn't necessary,” Hansel said, once he had himself under control again.

“Let's get you back to town. Don't want you to end up imprisoned by a kobold or worse.”

“There's a kobold here? What do they do?” The curiosity of youth shone bright in Hansel's eyes.

“Don't even think about it.” Something about Hansel made Krause suspect his missing person numbers were not going to be nearly as good this year as the last.

“Caves, right? Kobolds live in caves. Or is it mines?”

Krause just patted him on the back, and then steered him towards the path.

Definitely not as good as the last.