Parrot Peril

parrot

You wake up to find a strange young woman in bright clothes eating breakfast in your kitchen. Perhaps not coincidentally, your pet parrot is nowhere to be seen…

     Growling, I slapped at the snooze button on my beside clock for a third time. I missed the clock, hitting the half empty cup of water on my bedside table. It fell over, water spreading across the nightstand and then down onto the floor. I continued to lay in bed for another minute, listening to the blaring of my alarm compete with the dripping water for attention. Sighing, I rolled to the edge of my bed and swung my legs over, sitting up.
     My feet hit the soggy carpet and I grimaced. Reaching to the clock, I disabled the alarm and then glanced around my room. I was behind on laundry, delinquent socks and crumpled pants were carelessly arranged throughout the space. I reached down to the footboard and grabbed a shirt that was hanging over one corner. Slipping it on, I stood up and stretched, realizing my shirt was on inside out. Groaning aloud, I trudged towards the bedroom door, eager to change the direction of my morning.
     A sizzling sound met my ears as I pushed the door open. I could smell eggs cooking, and something sweet, perhaps pancakes, and oddly enough, chicken. Wiping the drool from my mouth I glanced down the hallway towards the front door of my apartment. The deadbolts were engaged and the chain lock was still hooked, confusion washed over me. Who is in my kitchen?

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Egg Quest

[Prompt: Write a story about a very special cake ]

     Petra awoke to the crowing of Peckels, her favorite rooster. Rolling on to her side, she looked towards the shutters to notice Peckels’ call was too early, yet again. She grabbed her feather pillow and covered her face, groaning with annoyance.
     Once out of bed she lit the fire and hung a kettle over the open flame. If she was going to get up this early, she might as well treat herself to some tea. Pulling the sole chair of her hut towards the fire, she settled in to wait for the water to boil.
     Basking in the warmth of the flames, she considered the ingredients she would need for the important task of the day. Petra had milled the necessary amount of flour the previous day, it was in a clay container in the pantry. The pantry also contained the sugar and salt, so she checked those off her mental checklist. She needed to get butter and hartshorn from the cellar, she would gather them after she finished milking Mertha. The rosewater sat on the counter in the kitchen, the infusion finished by now. The meager amount of cinnamon she had been saving was going to be emptied today, the thought turned her mouth into a frown. She went through the list in her mind once more, suspicious of which ingredient she was missing. 
     Eggs. Of course. The eggs she knew she needed to gather, but had been putting off all week. Her frown became a grimace as the kettle began to scream. She hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come. 

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Made with Love

[Prompt: Write a story about a very special cake ]

    Her grandmother baked the best chocolate chip cookies and when Jeanne, as a young child, asked what made them better than the anyone else’s cookies, her grandmother had chuckled and said it was because she baked them with love. Jeanne took the words to heart and never doubted them. Back then she had loved watching her grandmother hum and sway to a slow dance reserved for the kitchen during meal prep. She was baking with love, Jeanne had thought while keenly watching to learn the secrets of cooking the perfect cookies.
    As Jeanne grew older she found herself emulating the habits of her late grandmother. She would hum to a tune without a name that would fall apart if she tried too hard to concentrate on the notes. Every now and then she would recognize melodies but for the most part it was a mis-mash of music that spoke to her soul and only her subconscious knew all the words. Sometimes she would smile as she cooked, while other times she frowned, but either way she would always hum and lightly sway her hips side to side as if it was the best motion to pair with her busy hands to infuse love into her cooking.

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