Another Narrative Writing Prompt

Seori's Dread

Chef Seori Muzzeli was never a benevolent man. He had gone 20 years serving patrons in good health. So why, now, was he adding death to the menu? It had all started but months ago...

Muzzeli's hair down to his mustache was graying from stress as he toiled over his pasta, as he was pouring over his sauces on a crisp autumn night. The heat was on, not just to warm the chef tonight. He would never forget what the critic told. 

"The food here is uninspired, the sauces more a deep magenta, rather than a strong tomato red, showing an excess use of wine while reducing, the cream sauce, much too thick, suggesting an overuse of starch and flour in both the sauce and the pasta, the seasoning, too abstract, and the menu overall, unoriginal."

That was a blow both to his pride and his Italian bistro. That critic scared away even his family, his loving mother in particular. 

"We tell you Seori, let the place burn like the pasta you served to us, and join the family business. We spent 15 years in doubt of you, then you tell us you nee' money 'cause a critic is a-killing your grandfather's restaurante! For shame, Seori..."

After that night, Seori had a rather different recipe book, passed onto him by his father, a book of poisons and applications of them - one of which being a pasta. Seori was advised to use the book in this way for one simple reason - his father didn't want to deal with critics anymore.

While the, thankfully non-toxic, pasta he prepared boils overnight, Seori begins inviting critics, one being critic Cymone Hallie, French critic with the most modern of gadgets in tow. Hallie is Seori's worst nightmare, for she has the worst condition to have at a time like this - obsessive compulsive disorder. Since Seori's father is forcing Seori to unwillingly murder critics, a critic like this would most definitely not enjoy a sauce that was slightly too pink or pasta that was barely too soft, when most critics would say it was acceptably palatable.

When Seori gets a response from Hallie mere minutes later, his only hope is to wait for her arrival, the poison locked away in hope he shan't need it. Thinking to the poison, he asks aloud "Would Nonno agree to this? Mama never liked him but he helped be open this place almost 20 years ago. Would he want to see his grandson a murderer?"

The night passes quickly and Cymone strolled into Sicily calmly, giggling, as she dawdled on her phone. Cymone was glued to her phone for she was no ordinary sufferer of OCD. She was a severe case, having panic attacks if even a single hair's breadth of paper were to be misaligned on her desk, some days. She took her meds daily to prevent her compulsion from kicking in, but there is nothing more secure than the internet for her. The pristine nature and quality found gives her enough satiation that, paired with the proper medicine, she was hardly bothered by anything, letting her critique without issue. As she slowly meandered around to find a decent hotel by 6, disaster struck. She had no more of her pills left to take. All she had to protect her was hope, and little of it.

Looking for somewhere to head to, to avoid any worrying on her end, she spotted the restaurant that reached out to her - Nonno's Villa. Believing that rich Italian food may drown her senses, she went in to indulge on what Chef Muzzeli could provide. She was not prepared for what awaited her that morning.

Our Chef friend Seori had yet to open the place, as it was morning. When he saw Hallie, his heart plummeted into his chest from fear. A critic normally waits until lunch to come in, or warns the chef of when they are to arrive, but Hallie had done nothing of the sort. All he had was the boiling pasta, and a bottle of wine to serve. He had to stall somehow.

"Why Ciao bella, Miss Hallie, what brings you here so soon?" he began.

"O-Oh nothing, I-I just reached Si-Sicily, today," Cymone stammered, twitching and stuttering with every other word. "Why that's wonderful! Take your seat and enjoy some fresh pasta," responded Seori, quickly grabbing his pasta and wine. "I have a nice Albariño from my family's vineyard."

He quickly poured a wine flute until it was full, then he quick

"Oh no..." was all Hallie got out as she peered over the dish before her.

It was pink tinted, smelled of strong sherry and tomato. It was like a hearty bowl of soup, thick and meaty, laden full of oil and with a splash of homemade beef stock.

"I see you dislike your dish. Allow me to get you some, seasoning," our Chef friend sighed, knowing he would use no seasoning, but rather the toxins of his father.

As Seori walked forward to the cabinet, Hallie tried the soup before her.

"What is this, it's so rich, not even the richest man in the world could compare!" She ate slowly, savoring the flavour, to hopefully drown her panic at the dishes looks.

Seori arrived hastily. "Here it is, my special seasoning, a recipe from my," he sighed, "father."

He sprinkled a healthy amount onto her plate, the flavourless crystals melting onto the dish.

Cymone thought little of it and grabbed her fork to dine. It went onto the critic's tongue and seconds later, she was gasping and sputtering for air. She cried and wept for air, gasping, turning blue. She writhed on the floor, dying, in enough pain to paralyze a full-grown bull.

Seori tried to ignore this, but he could bear it no longer! His heart would explode from guilt if he did nothing. He grabbed the antidote from his pocket, and shoved the bottle sloppily into her mouth. Hallie gulped it down, relieved.

"I'm so sorry!" Cried Seori. "I couldn't bear to hurt someone. I do not care what my father makes me do, I am not a murderer and never will be!"

He wept and blubbered in guilt, to the point of excessiveness, for an hour. Hallie finally got up, thanked him for the meal and ominously left. Miraculously, she gave him a glowing review. It seems that while Seori gave his heartfelt apology, Cymone noticed that the combination of poison and antidote were stronger than her meds, to the point of not needing her phone.  She took it as an act of kindness, just one that Seori made a mess of in the process. She knew not that he would have been the guilty party for her death.

After Cymone, Seori having gifted the antidote and toxins to her, the hideous vials remained locked away. As long as Seori's descendants kept Nonno's Villa bistro running, they went untouched forever. Or so it is said...