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tHe gingerBread Boy There once lived a girl who shared a home with her stepmother. Years earlier, her mother had died and her father had remarried. While her father lived, her stepmother treated her kindly. But after the girl’s father died, that woman turned poison mean. She made the girl do all the work around the house and on the farm. When the girl didn’t work fast enough—and most days there was no fast enough—the woman beat the girl with a chain. The girl was miserable, but she had nowhere else to go. One morning, when the girl was around fourteen years old, her stepmother said, “Today you are going to chop the weeds out of the cotton.1 Go on out there, and don’t come back to the house until you’ve finished, either.” She sent the girl out without any breakfast. The girl trudged out to the shed, picked up a hoe, and walked on down to the cotton patch, where she began chopping weeds. The girl chopped and chopped. The sun beat down on her. Her stomach growled. Still she chopped. But as she worked, she thought: “I ought to just run away, but where would I go?” The longer she worked, the more running away seemed like a reasonable idea. Finally she gave in. She hid the hoe in tall weeds under an old wagon. Then she walked into the nearby woods. Now, even though the woods were so close that the girl could hear leaves rustle in the slightest breeze, she had never been there before. Her stepmother kept her working so hard; she’d never even had time to explore the woods right next to the fields. So in no time she was lost, but that didn’t stop her. “I’d rather die out here than go back,” she thought, and she kept walking. About midafternoon she reached a clearing. In front of her stood an amazing house. The shutters were made of wafer cookies, and gumdrops studded the walls. Oh, the girl was so hungry, she couldn’t stop herself. She ran up to a window, broke off a bit of shutter, and popped it into her mouth. The door of the house opened, and an old woman 28 HAUNTS, FRIGHTS, AND CREEPY TALES looked out. “Child,” she said, “you must be awfully hungry if you’re chewing up my house.” The girl swallowed hastily. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she apologized. “I should never have done that. I am so sorry.” “It’s all right, child,” said the old woman. “You’ve done no harm that can’t be undone. Like I said, you must be awfully hungry.” The old woman offered her hand. “Come on inside, and let me feed you a proper meal.” The girl went inside, and the old woman did indeed feed her a fine meal. The old woman also told the girl stories and jokes. The two of them talked and laughed together. The girl felt a joy she had not known since her mother died. Then the old woman glanced out the window. “Oh child, it’s going to be dark soon,” she said. “You need to go on home now.” “Oh,” sighed the girl, “Do I have to go? Couldn’t I stay with you?” “No, you need to go home.” “But—” The old woman interrupted her. “I know you’re living a hard life, but you have to go home.” “I was lost when I found your house,” the girl protested. “I don’t even know how to go home. Please, can’t I stay?” The old woman stood. “I’ll help you find your way, child.” She walked to a cupboard, opened it, reached in, and pulled out a gingerbread boy. She handed the gingerbread boy to the girl, saying, “Put this in your pocket. Eat it after you reach home.” The girl put the gingerbread boy in her pocket. She was about to speak again, but the old woman raised her hand, and the girl fell silent. “Your life will be better, child,” the old woman assured her. “You’ll see.” The two of them left the old woman’s house. In a very short time the old woman had led the girl through the woods and within sight of the old wagon. They said their goodbyes. Then the girl retrieved her hoe from under the wagon and trudged on home. When she walked into the...

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