The grandma had warm, brown eyes. Every child who looked into them immediately felt protected and tucked in.
The grandma baked wonderful, nice-smelling cakes, and she was happy to give them to the children. Since she wanted them to be healthy, she’d sweeten them with honey or maple syrup, never with white sugar.
The grandma told beautiful stories, all about children who found a fairy tale house, and then lived there happily ever after, without a worry in the world.
The grandma always smelled sweet, like the cakes she baked. Everything on her smelled like that, the skin, the hair, the clothes. The children loved that smell.
The children would easily find the grandma’s house. All the children talked about that house as a place where you would be safe, forever, where no one would beat you up, where everyone would be nice to you. The children would be attracted by the warm, sweet smell, and follow it to the house. It seemed that the grown-ups never noticed the smell, and they ignored the pretty, old-fashioned house partly covered with ivy, because it wasn’t new and modern.
It was always warm in the grandma’s house, because of the cakes she kept baking, and because of the pleasant-smelling firewood the grandma used in the big oven.
The grandma had long, sharp teeth she’d sink into the necks of the sleepy, full-fed children, and drink their blood. The children wouldn’t mind, because the grandma smelled so nice and was so warm and always took care they were comfortable and safe.
And everyone lived happily, the grandma ever after, the children a bit shorter than that.
This story was first published in Serbian, in several publications and in my short story collection, Macji snovi. The English version was featured at Bibliophilic Blather, the blog of the author Karen Wojcik Berner.