I've been writing each day in response to a prompt provided by Moriah Richard.
The challenge is to write a short story every day in February. This is day four. "Any home or professional cooks out there? For today’s prompt, select a kitchen item and write from its perspective."
Here is my story about a Cake Tester.
It’s dark here. Every now and then, when a cabinet door opens, a little light seeps into the narrow cavern I’m in, but it doesn’t last long. The memories are the only thing that keeps me sane.
I started life as a beautiful piece of silver. When they melted me and poured me into the mold, I thought it would hurt, but I felt loved. They even wrote my name on me, like a badge. “Cake Tester!” it said.
I traveled many miles and watched all kinds of people walk in and out of the wedding store. One day, a beautiful baker bought me and, with a few other beautiful things tucked in a basket, gave me a new home. I was the ruler of all the baking utensils. Nothing was proclaimed finished until I tiptoed on it and decreed it done.
Then it happened. I tickled the brownies and gave them an “All clear!” Before I could be properly stowed in the sink for my shower, there was a loud wailing and my beautiful baker tossed me! She tossed me towards the sink as she ran out of the kitchen!
If I were in a new house, or a remodeled kitchen, life would never have changed. But I wasn’t. The counter was old and there was a gap between it and the edge of the sink. I slid, I swear, in slow motion towards the crack. My long leg teetered over the edge but I didn’t fall.
“Whew!” that was close. My heart had just slowed down when my baker came back carrying a noisy mini baker. She plopped that baby butt right onto the counter without a thought to the consequences. I started screaming as it got closer to me, but nobody could hear me. I think the measuring cups and the forks might have laughed, but I’m not sure, I was yelling rather loudly. But to no avail.
Down, down, down, into the spider web infested cavern I fell.
So that’s how I ended up here. Every now and then I feel something crawling on me. It’s disgusting. Sometimes I hear my beautiful baker say words like, “Remodel” or “New Counter” and I get excited. For now, though, I will hold my memories dear to my heart until we are reunited.
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