‘Once Upon a Blood Moon’ is a Middle Grade novel which blends and re-imagines four timeless fairy tales in one story for a modern and diverse audience.
The manuscript has four narrators: Hansel, Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood (Roux) and Jack (Jack and The Bean Stalk). My aim was to make these well-known and loved characters more than one-dimensional figures and to give them a voice that young readers can empathize with. I also combined their individual adventures into one collaborative adventure.
As a Blood Moon descends on the village of our protagonists, it brings witches who are hungry for children. Hansel and Gretel mourn their mother and begrudgingly welcome a new and mysterious stepmother who has wicked plans for them. Roux must rescue her ill grandmother and former witch-huntress. Jack is on a mission to prove that he is more than a poor boy with low vision. The four characters are instrumental in defeating the coven of witches and freeing their village from the witches’ curse.
Some of the themes that the story tackles include: grief, friendship, bravery and overcoming adversity. It is aimed at young boys and girls aged 10-13 and it was inspired by similarly re-imagined novels like Neil Gaiman’s ‘The Sleeper and the Spindle’ and ‘Red and Blue’ by Jolie Dubriel.
Chapter II Hansel
The bells tolled from the tower in the village square. The clanging of brass woke me and I knew it only signified alarm. Those bells never rang for happy news.
“Time to go,” Father said and tried to banish the worry which was printed on his face. I knew it was about the witches, why else would the whole village need to assemble?
“You look shabby,” Gretel scoffed and tried to fix my shirt collar. Her boots were polished and her dress was blanched and clean. My breeches were covered in grass stains.
“Don’t make a fuss, I am fine.” I pulled away and buried my hands in my pockets. I hated it when she fussed over me and tried to make me look presentable.
“We will be surrounded by the whole village, it’s wise to look our best.”
“Is our appearance that important at a time like this?”
“You are right, it’s silly. It’s what Mother would have wanted though,” Gretel sighed and ran her fingers through her hair to loosen any knots. Father boarded the shutters and made sure the cottage was tightly locked.
“Come children, time to go,” Father led us out, his face lined with worry. He looked thinner than ever, his back was hunched and his cheeks were unshaved. If Mother was with us, she would have known the right things to say. But it’s best not to think of the past, Father doesn’t like to see us in tears and as the elder twin I should lead by example and not cry.
Crows squawked in the trees around us. Their cries were ugly and unnerving. Shed autumn leaves rustled under our feet as we followed the familiar cobbled path that led us to the village square. At times like this it would have been better if our home was in the village not on the forest’s outskirts.
Doors slammed from surrounding homes and everyone emerged with the same solemn and scared face. People looked up at the sky looking for a hint of the Blood Moon and the trouble it would bring. Mothers wrapped their arms around their children and walked to the assembled crowd with urgency, as if the congregation could promise safety.
“See children, the whole village has come together to receive counsel and learn how to stay safe during the night time,” Father ruffled our hair as if trying to fill us with hope.
As we edged our way to the assembly, the mayor was ready to begin his address. He stood on a raised platform but he wasn’t alone. The village bailiff and priest were by his side. Dungeon keys rattled around the bailiff’s belt as he stomped around the platform with his heavy boots. I imagined the dreary and forbidding confines of the village dungeons. Who was unfortunate enough to dwell there?
“We shall commence,” the mayor cleared his throat. “We all know why we are gathered here. We must brace ourselves for the Blood Moon and what is brings with it. Our calculations advise us that this Blood Moon will last a fortnight,” he said and gasps spread through the crowd.
“Yes, it is twice as long as the last one, we must be vigilant and protect the children, they are our most vulnerable…” the bailiff shouted.
“It’s the sweetness of their blood that lures them here, it has been the way for centuries,” Father Bastian interrupted. He wiped spittle from his mouth and furrowed his brow.
“He is the oldest man in the village, how many Blood Moons has he seen?” Gretel asked me. I looked at Father Bastian, our source of wisdom, his skin was leathery and his hands quivered.
“A longer Blood Moon doubles the danger. Many covens will come in these parts and conduct their sorcery with the Head Witch. They will fly across the sky on their broomsticks and cackle during the darkest hours. Seven years ago, the village lost fifteen children, we cannot let this happen again,” the mayor explained.
“We all know the danger, but what can we do? How can we stay safe?” a worried voice rose from the crowd, echoing all our fears. The bailiff stepped forward and offered his advice, rumour had it he had captured live witches in the past.
“Their wicked powers are at their height during the night time. During the day they are weaker and often they are forced to wear a disguise and resemble any one of us. Be wary of strangers and stay indoors during the night. Hang hagstones around your home and stable to repel them. Keep your doors and windows tightly sealed and don’t let any light escape from your home, it will only draw them in.” The bailiff spoke in a strident way and I wanted to believe that if we did the right things, we could be safe. But I didn’t want to be stuck indoors for an entire fortnight,
“If they are in disguise, they’ll wear charms which help them change their appearance,” Father Bastian interrupted again but no one seemed to be paying attention to him.
“But to ease your minds, we’ve put together a hefty sum from your taxes and hired a witch-hunter,” the bailiff smiled and pointed to a man in the front of the crowd. I could not see him, but the crowd erupted in cheers as he climbed the platform. Even Father clapped his hands with excitement as the man climbed the platform and waved like he was everyone’s saviour. I elbowed my way through the crowd so I could get a better look at the witch-hunter.
“I want to come too,” Gretel said and I pulled her along.
The witch-hunter had wolf’s skin draped across his chest. He removed his broad-breamed hat and bowed in front of the crowd like a circus performer.
“Damen und Herren, my name is Septimus the most-renowned Witch Hunter. I have travelled a long way to be here and help you in your hour of need. Nothing about the coven scares me. They will be exterminated like rats; I have done this many times before in Ingolstadt and Hannover and Bonn!” he said and a roar of cheer erupted. “I have slain witches in Bremen and Stuttgart and Dortmund!”
“Look at his face, it’s covered in scars and some of them still look fresh,” Gretel said. He smiled and had the crowd under his spell. Even Gretel’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
“Even you are enchanted by him,” I elbowed her and she tried to suppress a smile. Was I the only one who worried that he might be a charlatan and fraud? How could one man go against a whole coven or bloodthirsty witches?
The witch-hunter presented his crossbow, it was oversized and made of many metal fragments. It wasn’t like the crossbows the villagers used to hunt deer or boar. It looked heavy in his hand but the crowd murmured their approval.
“This contraption is made solely for killing witches. The arrows are quick as the wind and shoot out one after the other. They will be ambushed and vanquished,” the witch-hunter said and more applause thundered. People started to smile, ease returning to their minds and hearts. Perhaps it would be different this year, perhaps children would not be taken from our village.
A cold wind whistled through the crowd and the crowd dispersed. People returned to their homes, ready to hang their hagstones against the witches. I surveyed the village homes, huddled together, battered by age. They looked like warm and safe dwellings, with lots of noise and shared walls. It was lonesome to live outside of the village. Were we more vulnerable than the rest of the village?
“He seemed like a mighty fellow, didn’t he?” Father said as he led us home.
“I’ve never seen a crossbow like that,” I said.
“We will be safe, do not worry,” Father said, but Gretel and I looked at each other, questioning our Father’s optimism.
Maggie Jankuloska 