Cages

From my files, written about five years ago.

Another fairy tale of sorts. It was semi-inspired by a quote from Theodore Roosevelt:

“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

… which is all any of us can really do, when it comes to it.

I leave the outcome to your imagination.

Photo by Majkl Velner on Unsplash

**********

“It’s happened again.” My brother slammed the door, then sat hard in his chair.

I flinched, dropping the ladle, and only just managed to catch it before it fell into the soup cauldron. “What is it this time?”

“Same as always,” he said. “Is that done? I’m starved.”

I filled a bowl and set it beside him. Something about his tone made me uneasy–we’d dealt with terrible situations many times before, and I rarely heard such resignation in his voice.

“Something about this one bothers you. What is it?”

He dug his smart phone out of his pocket, pulling up the news site before sliding it over to me. I scrolled through the stories as he ate, my horror increasing with each one. Decades ago, our own homeland had been taken over by evil such as this. I would never forget the children hiding in attics, herded into train cars . . . I shivered, and could only stammer, “Why?”

He shrugged. “Has ‘why’ ever mattered?”

“You’re right. Make the arrangements.” I returned his phone to him; he silently tapped the screen. I watched, wishing we’d had such gadgets then–coordination would have been so much simpler!–or even earlier, when … I shook my head, none of that was important now.

I turned to tidy up the kitchen, collapsing the large soup cauldron so it would fit into the ice box, then asked, “Where are we going?”

“El Paso,” he said. “No checked bags, and we’ll have to deal with Customs. Can you get us through?”

“You know I can,” I said, then I frowned. “Mexico? That’s not what the news said.”

“That border changed ages ago, sister. It’s in Texas now.”

“Borders are so arbitrary,” I said.

He shrugged again. “Arrangements are made, we have an hour to pack. Go change your dress, this is the twenty-first century, not the fourteenth, you’ll give us away if you wear that old thing.”

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “One more comment about my age, and I will turn you into a cookie.”

He chuckled, and I smiled wryly. The blood of an innocent was needed for the cookie spell, and he knew I would never do it. Still, he was my brother, and I did like to tease him once in awhile. “We’re fortunate the immortality spell only required the essence of our oppressor.”

“And speaking of oppressors, little sister, go change. You’re too valuable to risk with your special talents, and you need to blend in.”

“We’re both too…” but he waved me silent before I could finish.

“You’ve always been the expert at freeing children from cages, Gretel. I am just the boy who ate too much.” Hansel winked at me, and in spite of gravity of the situation, I smiled before dashing off to get ready for our mission.