Heartscape Diaries

Grandma's Cookies (the secret ingredient)

**Warning: This book contains sensitive themes and graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.**

I always looked forward to summer vacations at Grandma's house. Her cozy little home on the edge of town was a place of endless fun and adventure. The smell of freshly baked cookies greeted me every time I walked through the door, and Grandma’s warm hugs made me feel right at home.

Every morning, I played with the neighborhood kids in the big, grassy backyard. We’d climb trees, play hide and seek, and sometimes venture to the nearby orphanage that Grandma owned. The orphanage was a bright, cheerful place, and I made friends with the children there. We spent hours playing games and sharing stories. Granidma was always so kind to them, and they adored her.

One afternoon, as I played in the yard, Grandma called me inside. "Eugene , dear, the cookies are ready!" she called. I rushed into the kitchen, my mouth watering. The cookies were perfect, golden brown with just the right amount of chocolate chips. Grandma handed me one, and I took a big bite. It was delicious, as always.

As the days passed, I noticed that the children at the orphanage were being adopted one by one. Every week, another child found a new home, and while I was happy for them, I also felt a pang of sadness. I missed my friends.

One morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I decided to surprise Grandma by making breakfast, so I tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen door was slightly open, and I heard the sound of chopping. Curious, I peeked inside.

Grandma was at the counter, her back to me, chopping something. I stepped closer and saw her hands covered in red. I froze. On the cutting board were pieces of raw meat, and next to it, a bloody knife. My stomach churned. I felt a cold sweat break out as I scanned the kitchen. Then, my eyes fell on the cutting board among the pieces of raw meat.

A horrifying realization hit me. "The kids... from the orphanage. They weren’t adopted, were they?"

Grandma sighed. "It's what makes the cookies special, dear," she said, her voice almost tender. "A secret ingredient."

My mind raced. I looked at the raw meat, then at the cookies cooling on the counter. I felt sick. I could not move . I felt like I was paralysed.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, Eugene,  It's human flesh."

I backed away, my eyes wide with horror.  Grandma’s face remained calm, almost serene. "It's what keeps the family tradition alive," she said. "And it's why everyone loves my cookies."

I turned and ran out of the house, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t stop until I was safely home. I never visited Grandma again, but the memory of her cookies haunted me forever.

Every time I smelled cookies baking, I remembered the awful truth behind Grandma’s secret ingredient. The sweet, warm smell that once brought me joy now filled me with dread. And I knew I could never forget the day I discovered the horrifying secret of Grandma’s cookies.