Blank Canvas

March 12, 2019

Creep

I felt it stirring. This guilt came in waves, and I didn't know why. When I crept, when I should be somewhere else, it was like my stomach could practically taste it.

Mama had just made them, and they were best fresh. So, why was it such a big deal if I took one, just one cookie. I was just barely tall enough to reach the counter, and the taller I got, the more available the cookies were.

It all started when I was watching TV. Mama was in the kitchen, storing things, clanging things, the oven was hot. She had to be baking. I turned my head around to see the ruckus. She had regular ingredients. Milk, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate—

Wait, chocolate chips! I knew what she was making. Cookies. My mouth watered at the thought of a cookie entering, and filling every living taste bud with the taste of heaven. I walked to the counter, and watched her as she placed rolled dough, which were on a metal thing, into the oven. I felt the heat rise and hit me right in the face.

It felt good, despite it being eighty degrees outside. Mama noticed me snooping and smiled down at me.

"Hi Winston." She said, continuing her business. "Whatcha up to?"

"Oh, uh–" I replied, staring at the oven. Hoping they would be done already. She noticed me looking, and laughed.

"You can't have one until later, baby. Okay?" She ruffled my hair. "Go and play some more. They're not done yet."

Gleefully, I went back to my position on the couch. But all I could think about were those cookies in the oven, and they were beginning to smell. Maybe burning? Maybe they were done!

I ran back over to Mama, who was still working on the next set. "Winston, they aren't done yet." She giggled. "Here, when you see this go off, that means they're done."

She handed me an egg that was ticking. I stared as it, walking back to my place on the couch. I couldn't even think about what was happening on the TV. All I could think about was those yummy cookies.

Fast forward, and three cookies later, I was supposed to be napping. Still imagining those cookies that tasted, oh so amazing, I couldn't get enough. I stealthily crept down the stairs, to the kitchen. Luckily no one was there, and the oven was off. But there were still cookies on the counter, practically waiting for me to eat them.

I reached one, two, three, four... and pulled them down to my mouth. Which I quickly inhaled, but when I went to go reach for more, I heard—

"Winston Carver! What do you think you're doing?!"

At that point, I knew that my creeping days were over. And there would be no more cookies for me.