Hansel and Gretel

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Hansel and Gretel A Re-Imagining by Class
4 Wreningham
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The children fled into the cold, biting night,
finding themselves enveloped by the city of
Technopia, a city of dark and light. The
twisting maze of streets drew them ever deeper in
to the heart of the forest of titanium and tin.
Colossal towering skyscrapers of glass and silver
arched over, pulsing and glowing in blinding neon
light. Yet the radiant light struggled to
penetrate the dark alleyways and rat-runs,
leaving them be to their shadowy secrets. Gretel
occasionally glimpsed tiny red eyes, blinking
from the darkness, and was careful to steer
Hansel away from slipping down one of the many
side-streets. This was not easy, as Hansel, of
course, had his eyes fixed on his game screen,
oblivious to his surroundings, and paying just
enough attention to the real world as to walk
in a straight line. They were not the only people
out traversing the streets of Technopia, although
the pale, hollow faced children who paced the
pavements around them seemed devoid of the spark
of human life. Like Hansel, they held their
portable consoles with twitching fingers, staring
emotionless at the flickering screen, stopping
only when instructed by the automated voice of
the pedestrian crossings. Cross now, cross now,
cross now , it echoed Dont walk, Dont walk,
Dont walk, the vaguely female robotic voice
repeated, shunting the lines of automatons
silently through the city grid, save for the tiny
beeps and squeaks of their consoles. Gretel
glanced at Hansel and could see the similarities.
She sighed. I wish youd give that a rest, she
pleaded, spinning him round to face her, not
paying attention to the open grate on the side of
the pavement. Too late over and down they fell,
into the enveloping emptiness.
Wreningham VC Primary School Class 4 Hansel and
Gretel Our Re-Imagining Hansel and Gretel lived
a modest life with their parents, who loved and
cared for them well. Hansel was typical of many
children of his time, hooked to his i-screen, his
Pear-Pod, his buttons and beeps. Gretel was odd.
She loved books and words, and could lose
herself in her imaginings. She was a rare thing
in this land of technology, this land of bright
and shiny trinkets and ebbing soul. But she
loved her brother, and their family was
strong. Times were hard outside the walls of the
city of Technopia, and when their father lost his
job there was seemingly no hope. Late one
night, desperate and hopeless, their mother and
father discussed their dilemma cling on for
dear life or send their beloved children to
work. In Technopia, they had heard, children
were valued - their delicate, tiny fingers able
to construct the gadgets and gizmos of the
future. We could send them to work was all
the children caught, crouching on the stairs,
ears straining for their parents whispered
tones. Without waiting to hear more, a decision
was made. Out the window they fled, into the dark
night, betrayed, fearful and confused - although
Hansel somehow found the time to grab his
portable console, his life-blood. If only they
had listened a little longer, listened to hear to
their parents guilt and anguish that they had
allowed such an evil thought to enter their
heads. If only they had waited long enough to
hear their parents declare they would never give
them up.
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The two children landed in what could only be
described as not very pleasant. But it was not
the stench or the substance into which they had
fallen which occupied their immediate thoughts
it was the myriad of blinking, beady red eyes
which appeared in the endless darkness. Hansel,
of course, also took time to check his screen,
yelling out in despair at the Battery Life Zero
message which flickered first into, then out of
life. Noooo, he cried in anguish. Noooo,
Gretel echoed, though not for the same reason.
The eyes had emerged from the darkness, together,
as if belonging to one single, great creature of
the underworld. The blue-green neon glow from
the opening from which they fell had now seeped
down into the void, allowing their eyes to adapt
to the gloom. It was not one creature, but
hundreds of rodents who resembled children, or
children who resembled rodents Gretel wasnt
sure which description fitted best. Rats! Rats!
Rats! she settled on as she screamed out in
panic, joined finally, and reassuringly, by
Hansel. The children tensed, in ice-cold,
paralysing fear , awaiting the feel of sharp
teeth and claws but none came. Were not what
you think, were not what you think, chattered
a host of high pitched voices, shocking the
children back to life, their mouths gaping and
eyes widening. Gretel was brave. What, erm,
who are you, she squeakily managed, remembering
her manners even in this terrifyingly unusual
situation.
We live below, thats all. Not up above, no no.
Up there dont go, theyll take your soul.
Theyll suck your sight and clean you out, the
host of tiny voices repeated as one. What do you
mean? replied Gretel, her instincts telling her
that she was safe, she was safe here. Go home,
go home, away from here. Thats good advice,
thats good advice, echoed the now scurrying,
twitching creatures. But Hansel wasnt listening
a voice had penetrated the sewer, a sickly
sweet, tempting voice. Children!
Children! Listen to me. Free recharge, recharge,
its all free. Pear-pods, pear-pads,
pear-phones. Wi-Fi, Wi-Fi, updates and
Wi-Fi. CHILDREN! CHILDREN! Play all day, play
all day. You know you want to ! Hansel was
snared, he needed that recharge, he needed his
games. He needed them. He stumbled forwards,
squinting at the hazy form of a ladder in the
dull neon glow, a ladder to the surface, a ladder
to the Game. Before Gretel could react, he was
half way up, reaching for the hand beckoning him
on. She could now hear the voice too and knew he
wouldnt be able to resist. Hansel wait, dont
go! They say its a trap! Hansel! Hansel! But
it was hopeless her voice fading as it struggled
to overpower the one from above.. The grate
scraped, then clanked shut with a cold finality.
Hansel was gone.
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Hansel followed the figure across the road. The
thought flashed through his mind that since
entering Technopia hed not seen any cars on its
perfect roads. But that was it, just a blinking
thought and it was gone. His desire to play
online was overwhelming. He pushed aside a line
of the automaton children who were lined up like
odd tin soldiers on the kerb awaiting
instructions from the crossing voice. Hansel
had ignored the Dont cross, dont cross, dont
cross, not that he had heard it he could only
hear the Game calling him. He stood before the
glorious window of the game shop. Its beguiling
lights emanating from an array of delicious
multicoloured screens emblazoned with explosions
of mouth watering colours, buzzing sprites and
twinkling pixels. It looked good enough to eat -
a virtual gingerbread house ready for
consumption. Pear Incorporated, the sign above
the window buzzed in a pale ghostly blue-green
hue rather like one of those glowing machines
which attracts flies, then fries them to a cinder
with a zip when they are drawn in. He didnt
know how he ended up inside but suddenly he was.
Across the mirror-like floor, in the centre of
the room, stood the shop-owner. Hansel could now
focus on his host. A tall, spindly man stood
hunched over a chair, struggling to fill the
gleaming white lab coat which hung off his
shoulders. His hair was wild and spiky and
matched his coat, his nose prominent and
slightly hooked. His shiny black shoes grew to
an unfeasibly sharp point, and Hansel wondered
how his toes could possibly reach the end. He
resembled a vulture, a huge skinny vulture. His
yellow piercing eyes, half hidden behind a pair
of thin wire spectacles perched precariously on
his nose, added to this disguise.
To be continued