Bloodlust was everything that it gave off, and we were about to feel its effects if we fail to escape. I hear a loud cut in the air as he swings the once-stuck cleaver immediately after he takes it off and my off-arm burns with pain. He's fast. There was no point in wasting bullets on this monstrosity of a man, because none of our guns seem to work on him. His eyes meet mine, two white dots littered with red webs as I realize that his eyelids were non-existent.
A loud bark fills the air as Anthony fires a round from his shotgun, causing my would-be murderer to stagger a few feet away from me. "Michael, we got to go!" He was already at the door, firing shot after shot as I sprint, feeling the vibrations of the heavy footsteps of my pursuer, desperately trying to catch up to me. I feel the manic want of the shedding of blood pierce me from behind, as if he had already caught up to me. My legs grow heavy as I try to push the oncoming fear away, forbidding it to set in. "I'm out of shells!"
"I'm fine! Make a run for it!" My lungs were screaming for air as I exhaust them from all of the running, but I couldn't stop yet. Anthony walks through the dark doorway and I follow soon after, barely missing another thrown cleaver at the floor where my heel was previously at.
There was a crash behind me and I find an extremely heavy-looking antique cupboard toppled over by Anthony, blocking the small entrance fully. It banged from the other side, cracks showing as we brace ourselves for another encounter with it. However, the banging subsides and we were met with a complete silence. We don't put our guns down however, Anthony pumping his as he finishes loading the firearm, his muzzle aimed at the cupboard.
"The door to the bad man is gone." The voice of a little girl causes us to turn around and aim at the owner of the voice. There she was, a little girl that fully resembled the descriptions Anthony gave. The red dress she was wearing gave it away, and I feel a strange sense of familiarity when seeing it. "It's you mister! Did that scary guy hurt you?"
I see Anthony relax and I decide to do the same. She seemed harmless, at least at the moment. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, sweetie." I watch Anthony bend on one knee and talk to her, meeting her at eye level. "Where's your brother?" We didn't notice it at first, but the room we were in was filled with hundreds of chinaware. There were porcelain teapots with their porcelain cups, hung beside neatly organized porcelain plates inside cupboards that were too white for my liking.
"He went to meet the Candlemaker! He said he wanted to make the prettiest candles for my birthday and had the Candlemaker help him." A butcher, a candlemaker, and I'm assuming there's a baker? She was joyful, glowing brightly with a smile as she addressed Anthony.
"You never told me you were good with kids." I joke, to which Anthony does not hesitate in responding to.
"I never knew I was." He stands up and watches the little girl fiddle around with the teacups on the table found in the middle of the room. Around it were four chairs, one of them occupied by her and the one directly across it was occupied by an antique doll, its once shiny porcelain skin know riddled with cracks and was turning into a shade of faded white. "Gretel, can you please help us once again?"
I was stunned, could it be a coincidence that they both shared the same name? "Excuse me, did you say her name was Gretel?" Anthony looked confused, probably not understanding why I felt the sudden need to inquire. I watch him nod and now that I think about it, the little girl really does resemble her. "And that means her brother would be…"
"Hansel!" She leaps out of her seat and greets a little boy who wore a baggy blue sweatshirt, way bigger than his size. "Is my cake ready?"
"Gretel, settle down. It'll be ready when your birthday comes." He really did look like the Hansel I knew, or in this case it really was him. What's going on here? The only difference between them was the fact that this Hansel seemed to be the more mature of two. "Anthony, you're okay!" He then proceeds to approach Anthony, seemingly fond of him as well.
"Yes, I am. But I need your help to get us out of here." Anthony talks in a really polite way. Hansel and Gretel look at each other before nodding. They turn towards the wall and knock on it three times. The first knock was soft, and I could somehow hear the sounds of the breeze call out to me. The second was mildly louder than the first, somehow reminding me of the sounds of ocean waves that you hear on the beach. The third one was the loudest, echoing within the enclosed room as I imagine the sounds of a thousand ravens cawing out to me.
The wall crumbles, caving in on itself as if it were being vacuumed in on itself. An entrance appears, leading to a cavern with hundreds, maybe thousands, of candles plastered on the walls around it. All of them were lit, providing a bright glow to an otherwise dim tunnel. "Mr. Candlemaker!" Gretel calls out, her tiny voice echoing in the distance.
A long, slender hand emerges from the entrance, crooked fingers made out of wax pat Gretel and Hansel gently on the head. The owner of the hand comes into view, a man without a face who was wearing the sleekest black suit with a white shirt underneath. He was towering over us, hunched over in the tiny room we were in as he made sure to take off his top hat. His face looked like it was made out of the same candlewax-like substance as his fingers, making his skin glimmer in the low light of the porcelain room. He was silent, now looking at us as he puts his hat on his chest which seemed like a greeting. Hansel speaks, the one they called the Candlemaker bowing as he does. "Everyone, meet the Candlemaker."