Weekend Quickie #217

Weekend Quickie #217

Saturday, February 4, 2017

One Image, One Prompt, One Emotion

200 Words


your character is making  cake

5 thoughts on “Weekend Quickie #217

  1. Rain
    Elaine Johnson

    She sat in the restaurant kitchen, staring at the spire. Her interest in the guidebook waned shortly it pointed out that the church was an excellent example of English architecture’s stone flooring.

    Of course, this particular room wasn’t so easy to walk on either, but she’d bribed the concierge to let her use the facilities to bake a birthday cake for her son. It couldn’t be a bakery cake, it just couldn’t.

    They’d flown all this way, using insurance money they hadn’t even gotten yet, to try and forget the hurricane that ripped off their roof, destroyed the elementary school, and put her husband’s workplace communication system out of commission. He could work from anywhere, he kept insisting. After three nights at her in-laws, she found a next-day travel package in London replete with extremely discounted air fare and tours of several cities she couldn’t remember.

    They left Red Cross tents and convoys of waste cleanup trucks to a land of history, where people kept stiff upper lips and drove on the wrong side of the road and had history out the kazoo, but never, ever had tornadoes or earthquakes or hurricanes. She burst out laughing, her hands shaking so hard she spilled the coffee. But they did have rain.

  2. Dream Job

    Harry smiled as the swans swam past the restaurant. He loved working in Brown’s Restaurant there along the river Severn. It was such a beautiful place, Worcester was. Harry turned back to the cake he was making, poured the batter into the pan, and slid it into the hot oven.

    Someone started pounding on the door. “Oh dear,” Harry thought, “Some customers were simply rude. Harry hollered through the door, “We’re not open for business yet!”

    Just then, the door burst open and three men in safety vests barged in. “Sir!” they insisted, “You’ve got to evacuate! The Severn is flooding! Your about to be swept away.” Harry recoiled, “But we’ll be open for business in just a couple of hours, gentlemen, maybe you could make a reservation for lunch?” “What are you talking about?” one of the men cried, “You’re being evacuated.” The three men escorted Harry to a motorboat, and ferried him through the streets to a waiting bus.

    As the bus pulled away, a half mixed batch of box brownies sat inside the dishwasher in a run-down caravan. Apparently, Harry wasn’t quite as ready to live on his own as his therapist believed.

  3. (A little over 200 words- sorry!)
    Johnny Elf
    Chapter 3
    The Delusional Baker
    Elise worked every day with a smile. She was a baker in the coastal city of Navarre. If there was one thing she held dearly, it was to bake cakes. To not notice a young wood elf that frequented the shop, she would have to be blind.
    Sometimes, he came in and smiled. He looked around, and would simply leave. After the third time, he finally asked how much for the fewest layered cake available. And when she told him, he simply smiled and left.
    Wood elves were rare. This one was one of the first she had seen in years. The close by once proud island of Galone of the wood elves, all but deserted.
    Orcs had driven wood elves to near extinction. Now, even humans feared the orcs. Humans would not stand up to the orcs, not even when she was forced to marry one. Not even when they murdered her father. That was no matter. In baking cakes, she found joy, simple as it was.
    She became intrigued by the wood elf, but he remained a mystery. Where did he come from? What did he want? And then one day, he bought a cake. She smiled, and he smiled back. Their gazes lingered on too long. The stare was too much, and he grabbed his cake and left.
    The exchange disturbed Elise somewhat. For the rest of the day, she found little joy in making cakes. There was something missing. Had she gone insane?
    Johnny Elf carried on with his job as the local chicken headsman. The first time he went into the bake shop, he was lured by the smell of cakes. But he saw the most intriguing human. A pretty brown haired baker with blue eyes running the shop. She was happy in the moment, and quite unusually so.
    Sometimes, she would hum while she shuffled things about. The most simplistic song in the plainest since. The happiness spewed around and created a hazy aura throughout the shop. The hum brightened his soul. It was like nothing he had ever seen.
    After a few days, he found the courage to ask the price- to which he could not afford. Still, he’d drop by every day, regardless. If only to smell the sweet bread and hear the beauty of the song. He just hoped his own smell of slaughtering chickens would go unnoticed.
    But he saved for a while, and found enough coin. And paying for that cake with his hard-earned money was a proud moment for Johnny. And when he looked in her eyes, the gaze took his breath away. Only the slamming of the front door from a new customer finally tore him from it.
    Outside Navarre, under the stars, the cake was every bit as sweet as its maker. Soft and moist. Sweet and delicious. You could never steal something like that. The thought of it brought water to his eyes. The smile lasted until the evening gave way to vivid dreams of the night.
    The next evening, Johnny dropped by the bakery to express his appreciation. The baker was not there. Instead, there was an orc waiting for him. A big one. Almost as big as Jake.
    “Shop’s closed” the orc said. “You come to buy something?”
    “Not today” Johnny said.
    “Don’t like no elf hanging around here” the orc said. “I don’t think I want to see you here again. Got it?”
    “What?” Johnny looked at the orc confused. “Who are you?”
    The orc swung a club at him out of nowhere. The first blow into his side. The second would have likely cracked his skull, except Johnny’s hands blocked it stubbing a couple of fingers. The orc threw him to the cobblestone road as he struggled to retain his awareness.
    “Excuse me” the orc repeated. “I think I said I didn’t want no elf hanging around here anymore. Got it?”
    He didn’t wait for the wood elf to answer as he slammed the door of the bakery. The streets were quiet in Navarre as Johnny struggled to find his footing, and staggered towards his camp outside of town.
    In the evening sky, the dark clouds were swirling together above, and the wind increased steadily. It seemed to stop just long enough to allow the first raindrops of the night to fall. But before the night was done, their number grew uncountable.

  4. “I can see swans swimming down the Severn!” laughed the head chef. He began jumping and skipping through the kitchen. The other kitchen staff tried to continue on with their jobs but it was difficult with their boss being slightly mad.
    “Listen, you’ve got to stop him, we have a dozen orders waiting and all he does is this!” said the head waiter to the owner of Browns At The Quay restaurant.
    “Has he been at the brandy?” asked the owner, catching a few pans which came his way as the cook flung them around while dancing.
    “No. Apparently something happened at home, but we don’t know what,” replied the head waiter. The owner looked out of the window.
    “Oh. The river’s flooded! And is that…?” Both herself and the head waiter saw swans swimming outside in the river which had now flooded the walkway.
    “I’m going to make a cake!” screamed the head chef, and quickly collected all the ingredients and utensils he needed.
    “What shall we do?” asked the waiter. The whole room looked at the owner, waiting for her decision as the head chef merrily mixed up the base for a chocolate cake.
    “Let him bake it.”

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