One dark and dreary December eve, the witch, Esmeralda, sat inside her gingerbread house casting spells, hating Christmas, and plotting to get Hansel and Gretal for killing her sister. A knock came at the door. Esmeralda grumbled about door-to-door sales people and walked over to answer it. When she opened the door, she only saw the dark evening sky, the bright stars, and the pure white of snow on the ground.
“Stupid kids.” Esmeralda shook her head, wished upon the kids of the neighborhood all sorts of curses. Esmeralda stepped outside and investigated the shadows around her yard to find the little devils who intruded upon her time. Only the distant hum of…What was that hum?
The witch felt a white-hot force propel her into the snow. Her eyes fluttered open a bit in time to see a boy rappelling off of her roof, fire coming out the side of her house, and the shell of a bomb nearly crumpling the whole side of a house she no longer recognized. She looked down to her sides and found her arms missing and blood coming out, turning the white snow red.
The boy on the roof hopped down into the snow and yelled, “You will never hurt any more children. You are the last in the line of witches. Now our neighborhood is safe.”
The distant wail of sirens sent the boy running away. The witch turned her head and saw a drone circling above her home before flying off into the west. Someone stuffed a card in her shirt.
The person whispered, “I am Gretal, and we are part of a secret force sent to save children from cannibal witches.”
Esmeralda tried to curse Gretal with her powers, but the loss of blood into the snow weakened Esmeralda so much that speaking felt impossible. The dark sky faded and everything went black.