Knochenplätzchen by Maura Yzmore

Knochenplätzchen by Maura Yzmore

The old woman sat down at her kitchen table, trying to look composed, but the wringing of her knobbly hands gave away her distress.

“Who are you?” she said.

A young man in a black suit sat across from her. His slender legs were crossed, his manner relaxed. “You can call me Agent Schwarz,” he said, then pointed to a towering bald man by the door. “And over there is my colleague, Agent Rosa.”

“What is going on?” the woman asked. “Why are you in my house?”

“Look out the window, Ms. Plätzchen.”

She turned to her left and gasped at the sight: the interior of a large metallic structure, silvery pipes gleaming under fluorescent light. “This is my kitchen,” she said, “but we are not in the woods.”

“Correct.” Schwarz smiled without showing his teeth. “In fact, we are inside a large aircraft. Thank you for choosing a prefab house, by the way. The removal and transport have been seamless.”

The woman’s shoulders slumped. “Agent Schwarz, I am old. I am not in good health. I don’t understand what is going on.”

“Oh, Ms. Plätzchen, you can dispense with the theatrics. We know you are not feeble.” Agent Schwarz grinned. “We know what you are.”

The woman leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. A slight smirk appeared on her lips. “Is that so?”

Schwarz snapped his fingers. Agent Rosa nodded and left the kitchen, then returned, wheeling in a portable screen. He clicked a small remote, and the screen showed black-and-white footage of a cottage in the woods from a vantage point in a nearby tree.

“You recognize this place, Ms. Plätzchen?” asked Schwarz.

“Of course. That’s my house. Where it’s supposed to be.”

“Correct. Now let’s watch what happens.”

Two school-aged children, a girl and a boy, approached the cottage. They walked around, looked through the windows, knocked on the door, but no one seemed to be home. The boy sat down with his back against the wall, pulled off a shingle from the house siding, and briefly inspected it. He then took a bite and chewed, then leapt to his feet, inviting the girl over to have a taste. She tried to take the shingle away from him. As the children argued, the old woman appeared at the door and motioned them inside.

“Now let’s fast forward a bit,” said Agent Schwarz.

The footage showed the woman going in and out several times, as nights changed into days. The children never reappeared.

The recording stopped on a frame with last week’s timestamp.

Schwarz leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table, then slowly interlaced his fingers. “Those children you kidnapped, Ms. Plätzchen? The children we know you had every intention of eating? They were our Special Agents Hansel and Gretel.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

“Agents Hansel and Gretel have helped catch half a dozen of your kind,” said Agent Schwarz. “Right now, we are digging for bones where your home used to be.”

“Nice work moving the house, by the way,” she said. “I didn’t hear a thing. Then again, my ears aren’t what they once were.” She repositioned herself in the chair. “So, what do you plan to do with me now?”

“Now we fly you and your home to a secure location. You will be with the rest of your ilk.”

She paused, then threw her hands up, like she was resigned to her fate. “All right. How much time do we have till we land?”

“Several hours.”

“In that case, I hope you won’t mind if I make myself some coffee. The light is on, so I presume I have electricity.”

Schwarz took a moment to think before he spoke again. “Fine. But only if you agree to answer all my questions…”

She nodded.

“…And no funny business, Ms. Plätzchen.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She crossed her heart. “Would you and your associate,” she said and flashed a smile at Agent Rosa, “like something to drink?”

“Nothing for me, thank you,” said Schwarz. Rosa shook his head without a word.

“Suit yourself.”

The woman rummaged briefly through the cupboards, then heated a cup of water in the microwave oven and made instant coffee.

Holding a steaming cup in one hand and a plateful of brightly decorated cookies in the other, she sat back down at the table.

“I didn’t realize you still ate, uh, normal food,” said Agent Schwarz.

“Actually, baking is my forte.” She smiled and picked up a cookie, dipped it in coffee, and put it in her mouth. “So, what can I do for you, Agent Schwarz?”

“Usually, with the likes of you,” he said, “we find the victims’ bones buried in the vicinity of the dwelling. But we haven’t found anything around yours.”

The woman dipped another cookie in her coffee.

“We know you killed and ate Hansel and Gretel, but we need solid proof,” continued Schwarz. “Tell me what you did with their remains.”

Ms. Plätzchen followed another cookie with a sip of her beverage.

“You promised you would answer my questions,” Agent Schwarz insisted.

“And I will,” the woman said through a mouthful. “Just as soon as I’m done.”

Agent Schwarz’s eyes narrowed. “Those cookies look great, Ms. Plätzchen… Would you mind if I had one?”

She swiftly popped the last two in her mouth and washed them down with the rest of her coffee. “I’m afraid I’m all out, Agent Schwarz.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “They’re an old family recipe called Knochenplätzchen. But you can call them bone cookies.”

—

Maura Yzmore writes short fiction and long equations somewhere in the Midwest. Her speculative flash can be found in Flash Fiction Online, The Arcanist, Wyldblood, and elsewhere. Website: https://maurayzmore.com Twitter: @MauraYzmore