The baker finished kneading the dough, looking down to his apprentice. They knew everything about baking; after all, they were the experts. But the only thing they failed to notice was the immense pain that was surging through the dough. Every time they brought their fist down was another wound mentally etching itself into the dough. The two blobs stared helplessly at each other, wanting nothing but the pain to stop. The old man and the little boy, people from different worlds, working together to create a new legacy. They each started shaping a pastry, the baker a breadstick, and the apprentice a cinnamon bun. The the dough was folded and molded into the shapes of the according dishes, their whole beings feeling as if they were lit on fire. Soon, they were placed in the oven, finally given a moment of rest. The now breadstick and cinnamon bun quietly whimpered to themselves, not quite recovered. They stared through the foggy glass, listening to the soft beeps of the oven buttons. They braced themselves, only for their tough walls to be broken apart by the heat brought upon them. It took a while, but they adjusted to the heat, left alone with just the two of them. They had a mutual understanding of each other, of the troubles that were forced to work through. The pain they felt would never leave their minds, but at least they had each other. They found solace in the other's company, simply enjoying the moment of a communicationless minute. But the heat increased with every passing second, up to the point that it was like a searing hot iron. The two tried to scream, shout, cry, anything, but it didn't work. They were stuck there once more, not able to do anything but let the heat take over. Their insides started to separate, mixing their gut feelings and giving a sense of nausea. Their outsides hardened as they tried and tried to reach the other, not wanting to see their friend in pain. Once again, they couldn't move. But why was that? They had no trouble when their backs were folded over, their whole self was crushed, when they were squeezed and stretched like a toy. They cursed at nothing in particular, refusing to let the feeling take over out of spite. But before they knew it, it was over. They were out of the oven and resting on a board, finally able to live in peace.
~~~~~
Why am I doing this?
Literally nobody asked for this
N O B O D Y
ok but haha part two
- Remi 😀🔫
