Oblivion - A collection of short stories

Sandwich

Once upon a time, witches still existed in this plane of reality. The church had yet to manage to erase most of them and force the remaining ones in hiding, and the witch persecution era was still at its starting phase. This meant that you could still sometimes encounter witches in remote areas of the planet practicing their witchy art without fear of being killed.

As it happens, one of these witches, whose name was lost to time and its endless erosion of details, once lived in the desert region of Ma'had. This specific witch loved to help stranded strangers and provide them with delicious foods of her own invention. Aided by magic, she was able to make a little green miraculous garden thrive. There, she cultivated every possible vegetable, fruit and herb all year long. She also possessed a couple animals. Now, you might think these animals served her as offerings for her mysterious gods or were used as sacrifices for dark and unholy magic rituals. You wouldn't be too far off from the truth. Except this witch possessed and excellent duplication spell. This spell wouldn't allow her to duplicate a life (she wasn't God) but it would allow her to replicate inanimate matter. Therefore, our witch could just replicate the animal's body without its soul (or whatever it is that makes a being be alive) and use the lifeless replicated carcass for meat or rituals in the living animals' stead. This way, the animals could have full lives during which course they were treated with dignity the like every living being deserves.

One day, while our witch was full immersed in her witchy business, a caravan of lost soldiers was passing closely to the witches' habitation when the smell of delicious home-made food reached their noses and pulled at their starved guts. The closer they got to the home of the witch, the more surprised they became: this place seemed to defy every law of nature! The house was coloured vibrant tones of blue and red, it was 3 stories high with a couple of balconies and windows sprouting seemingly out of nowhere at various levels. The place was surrounded by clear blue water ponds and green fields where different trees and crops flourished.

Confused by what their eyes saw but enthralled by the delicious smell of what the witch had cooked up, the men ventured into her humble abode. There, they found piles upon piles of delicious vegetables, sauces and charcuterie in all possible combination always blanketed by two slices of bread. The soldiers had never seen anything of the like, and yet their stomachs begged them to dig into the source of the delicious aroma that had pulled them to this strange oasis in the desert. They ate and ate until only crumbs remained and their stomach were full. Finally satiated, one of the younger soldiers suggested they search for the one responsible for such a delicious creation to thank them for the meal. The soldiers dispersed in the house, but none could find her. What they found instead bordered on the absurd: floating furniture, bubbling cauldrons, creatures one only knew from lore freely roaming around and an enormous collection of objects the purpose and use of which the soldiers could only guess. Once they had all gathered back together again in what they assumed to be the kitchen, they came to a unanimous conclusion: this must be the habitation of a sorceress, one of the spawns of Satan! As holly men, it was their heavenly sent duty to dispose of her!

Right at that moment, the witch made her unfortunate entrance. Before the nice witchy lady even had time to utter her welcome to the strangers that had invaded her home, one of the men sprung up and tried to spear her with his sword. The tip of it had barely grazed our enchantress when she exploded in a cloud of what one could have mistaken for sand. The soldier, surprised by the ease with which their comrade had killed the witch applauded him as holly men and his sword as blessed by their God. The men had intended to appropriate themselves of the witches' house but, before they could even start settling in, with a loud crack the whole beautiful yet strange oasis disappeared never to be seen again. In its wake, only a pile of neatly packed bread triangles filled with the same delicious ingredients as before was left. The soldier took these back with them to their corners of the world. They decided to name the food after the one that had come up with this recipe because, although its creator was a witch, there was no way that something as good as this dish could be of satanic origin. The fact that this same dish had been left in the wake of the witches' house disappearance only convinced them that it was their God's way of thanking them for giving him back that slice of land previously perverted by the witches' magic. Additionally, the naming of the dish would forever remind the future generations of this great victory over one of Satan's spawns. And yet, the soldiers feared that something clearly named after a witch, no matter how godly of origin, would not go over well in their religious countries. To avoid this, a slight modification to the name was made. Thus, the dish was called SANDWICH after the dead sand witch

Alas, this is not the true end of the story, only the end of the story as the soldiers know it. As it happened, the witch had grown quite tired with her small corner of the word and was in fact ready for new adventures. When the soldier came at her with the sword, her quick thinking allowed her to profit of the situation and become one with the sandwiches she had left lying around in another room. Then, she transferred her house and adjacent grounds on a different plane of existence, a place where witches roam freely. She knew that one of her sisters would take care of it for her until the day came that she got bored with the new adventures yet to come. She stayed in the sandwiches left in the wake of her house and kept conjuring up more sandwiches in which to carry parts of her being every time the man came close to finishing them. To this day, the witches' essence still permeates every single sandwich ever made. She haunts the sandwiches that the descendants of the soldiers eat by making them always taste like someone added a pinch of sand in them. People worthy of her sandwiches will be blessed with an extra delicious and savoury sandwich, and those she finds unworthy of her creation will inevitably develop horrible stomach aches.

THE END

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Hello bookies!

Yup, I'm back again with a little short story! This one might come off as a little random but shoutout to my friend who convinced me to actually properly write down this random idea I got while texting them. I might write an other "food-name-origin" story soon so if you enjoyed the randomness of this one stick around for the next one! 

That's all for today then. I'll leave you all with one last question: what is your favourite food? Comment it and who knows, if the fancy strikes me to write one more "food-name-origin" story I might take inspiration from here! :)

Byeeee!