The air in the cramped kitchen hung heavy with the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon. Dorothy, her hands roughened by life's hardships, stood over the fire oven, its ancient bricks absorbing the warmth of countless meals. She was a single teen mother, fiercely determined to make ends meet.
"Evelyn, you're a lifesaver. I mean it. Lydia's been MIA for days, and I was drowning in these damn spices."
Evelyn had signed up for the weekly rotation, students helping each other out.
"Well, Dorothy, it's not every day I get to play spice sorceress. Besides, I owe you. Remember when you covered my shift during flu season?"
"Yeah, that was the week I caught the flu myself. But hey, we're a team, right?"
"Right!"
Dorothy's three-year-old stood close, watching them with wide eyes.
"Hey there, little one. What's your name?"
The little girl looked up to find Evelyn staring down at her. A little bag around her body and a rag doll under her arm. "I'm Lily. Are you aunt Elyn?"
Evelyn nodded, getting ready to grind some spices.
They worked together. The seasoned mortar and pestle groaning under the weight of cinnamon sticks. Evelyn's strong arms moved, grinding the roasted spice into fragrant dust. Dorothy poured nutmeg.
"How many jars do we need today?"
"Fifteen would do, Eve."
Soon it happened. First a sooty scent, a light trail of faint smoke and then a spark leaped from the oven, igniting the wooden shelves. Panic surged through Dorothy as she pushed Lily outside the kitchen. "Outside, Lily! Go! Eve, get some water!"
The little girl stumbled, her doll slipping from her grasp. Dorothy then lunged for the door, desperate to turn of the main electrical connection.
Evelyn stood there for a second. Fifteen seconds to the main switch, five to switch it off and fifteen to get back. Thirty-five seconds. Quickly, she swept up the little girl. "Hide," she whispered. "Inside the oven. It's the safest place."
The child obeyed, her small frame disappearing into the oven's cavernous darkness. With her mittens on Evelyn shut the door, sealing her fate alongside the cinnamon-scented embers.
An hour later, the wail of sirens pierced the night. Ambulance, police, family members rushing in a symphony of urgency. But when they flung open the oven door, expecting to find tragedy, they found only ashes.
The house had burned down, everything was just ash.
"Since we haven't found anything confirming the kid's death, we will put a missing complaint on her name and out forensic department will take care of this place, Miss. Dorothy."
Evelyn's right hand kept holding the grieving mother in place, the left clutched her small bag, one enough to hold the charred remains of a three-year-old.
Roasted cinnamon and nutmeg.
Vanilla extract...?
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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄?
Short Story❝Do you know how to bake a pumpkin pie?❞ ••• It is Harvest season in Evelyn's town and she has the perfect recipe for a pumpkin pie. ⋅ ──────────── ⋅ TW: DEATH, GORE, GRAPHIC REPRESENTATION OF DEA...
