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Write about a character whose love language is making food for others.

Posted in Adults on Oct 31, 2022

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✍️ 37 stories

Admit One for Love

Submitted to Contest #162

“One cotton candy, two popcorns, and a lemonade,” the mother perching behind the stand hollered towards Christie. Two toddlers were tugging on her pant legs, causing the mother to lose her balance, as she knocked the metal container of straws over. “You said one or two popcorns?” Christie shouted back as she reached over and lifted the container upright, shoving the paper straws back in. It was too hard to hear her customers over the music. Her stand was located right across from the balloon dart game. Earl, the guy who ran it, had a ...

58 likes

Lead Salad Anyone?

Submitted to Contest #162

“It’s perfectly tender now,” said the mother. “Peeling off the bone. Just how you like it.” “Not overcooked, I hope,” said the father. A dribbling tongue scraped across chapped lips. Flames licked at the meat on the spit, turning black and glistening with fat. Splitting, cracking sounds from the fire echoed back from the silhouettes of the trees around the clearing. Stars winked down from the distant p...

31 likes

How Do You Like Your Toast In The Morning?

Wendy M

Submitted to Contest #162

Speed dating was just not Carole's thing. Not that she had tried it, but the thought horrified her. How do you get to know someone in eight minutes? She wondered, but when her sister, Louise, suggested it after her eleventh failed date, she decided she had nothing to lose. Carole knew she was an attractive woman; her thick, brunette hair in its stylish bob suited her heart-shaped face. Her skin had a soft glow from the summer sun, and she used makeup sparingly to highlight her amber...

29 likes

The Cook

Submitted to Contest #162

My best friend is a cat. I don’t mind. At least I can understand a cat. And the cat can understand me. My name is Toby, and I am six years old. My cat friend is Mikey, and he is at least two years old (I am not sure what it is in cat years). He is my best friend.We live in the suburbs of Lister, a small town that is about sixty miles from the big city. My family is my father, my mother and my younger sister, Diana. She is four years old. I am not sure how old my mother and father are (I always forget). Daddy works in an office in the big cit...

23 likes

Rhoda’s Hot Buns

Submitted to Contest #162

“You are not a pretty girl, Rhoda. Best you know the truth now.” Her mother made sure she understood her limitations, which Rhoda appreciated. “Learn to cook. Food’ll take a man’s mind off your face.” She took her mother’s advice, throwing herself into the art of baking. Turned out, she had a knack for it. While other young people her age partied and dated, Rhoda honed her skills and fed her passion for creating the perfect croissant. When she opened “R...

20 likes

Electric General

Submitted to Contest #162

Everyday he opens me, digging through my insides, searching for something to appease him. I’ve seen nobody else with the privilege to do it. Just him. I feel like that creates a bond between us. When only he is in the house, I don’t see him as often as when there’s company here. I look forward to company, I’ve come to love those days. That’s when his hands are inside me the most. Digging, pushing, re-arranging my interior goods like he’s tickling me. I must admit, we’ve been together a long time and I care about him as much as he cares ab...

17 likes

Calibrated For Two

Alex Flores

Submitted to Contest #162

This particular farmers market might be a little further to drive than I would prefer, but they have the freshest herbs and it’s the only place I’ve consistently found tarragon. Although there’s a supermarket within walking distance to my place, it’s a gamble that they’ll have everything I need. Which is another reason why I prefer this farmers market: the selection. There’s a farmers market which would be a shorter drive, but it’s purely produce. Here, I c...

15 likes

The Eatin' Table

Travis "John Bill" Peek

Submitted to Contest #162

She had never had a dining room or for that matter, never been in a dining room. A dining room would never have suited Louise in the first place. Her people were common people, but each one precious in Louise’s eyes.Her large-footed, dark-stained, oak table sat in the middle of her kitchen. A store bought, brass, light fixture suspended from the ceiling, draped her table in light. Tall, ladder back, wooden chairs strong enough to hold a grown man, but gentle enough for a child to climb into, girded her table. The table, Louise’s table,...

14 likes

Empty Heart and Full Stomach

Sarah Martyn

Submitted to Contest #162

Warning: mention of eating disordersWhen most of your identity hinges on if you are liked by people (at least most people), you’ll dedicate a lot of your life to achieving that. Even the recurring failure of that goal won’t stop you, but you get tempted to quit trying. Nobody would ever care as much for you as you do for them.I’m not asking for much. I am new here, and would be content with a few close friends, and for every person who gets on with me to at least enjoy my company when I invite them over. I don’t need fifty constant companion...

13 likes

My Grandmother's Love Language

Antara Srikanth

Submitted to Contest #162

Love is one of the purest forms of human emotions. There are different ways of expressing love; however, the most creative is through food. So many beautiful memories are created over food. The art of making food as per someone’s taste requires not only skills but also time and patience. In India, mealtime is family time. It begins with the ritual of praying to the almighty, where we thank him for providing the food on the table. In most households, preparing the meal for the family falls on the mothers or the grandmothers. They take...

13 likes

Moon Rabbit

Isa C

Submitted to Contest #162

“Hello, my name is Yuki Sachiko, and I am dying.” I have repeated those words a thousand times. And a thousand times I have heard, “Apologies, Mr. Sachiko, we cannot help you.” I sit on my bed staring outside at a grey and dreary city. All the money in the world, and I couldn’t use it for what mattered most. I’m not sad. I don’t believe life and death will feel much different. Instead I’m scared. No one wants to feel pain. The embarrassment of writhing under the gaze of doctors as my life slowly tapers away will surely soil my...

12 likes

Food Warefare

Laurie Roy

Submitted to Contest #162

Food WarfareIt’s usually when you’re being smug and satisfied and thinking that you have the world by the balls that you end up in a world of hurt. The spaghetti clinging to the walls of my childhood home and the meatball on the chandelier proved the point. Somehow, in the midst of my father’s birthday party, war broke out. The remnants of Nana’s Jell-O salad; something she always made but no one ever ate, and the green leafy salad cousin Marie made, were comingled on the sideboard, a strange goopy looking alien with mini marshmallow eyes an...

12 likes

Made with Love

Submitted to Contest #162

Cole wakes up before dawn each morning. He cleans himself up and starts tying up an apron on him. He’s small but determined. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. He doesn’t let it get him down. He found a language he can speak in without any trouble. He starts by making working the dough he let rise overnight. He knows his town and knows them well by now. After he is done with his pastries, he packages them carefully just as the sun starts to peak. It’s still early, but that never deters Cole. Cole puts his packages and bags into a wagon and starts ...

11 likes

With Love

Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #162

I’m in the kitchen, making turkey gumbo. It’s an old family recipe, meaning that it doesn’t really have an exact recipe. You need the basics: a good roux, seasonings you love, lots of meat. But the particulars are really up to you. Making a good gumbo is an adventure, an exercise in building something wonderful. Beyond the kitchen entry, a small crowd gathers in the dining room, sitting around the old table of dark wood, bearing the scuffs and scars of many years of use. The babble of conversation washes over me, but I don’t take part. It’s ...

11 likes

When Liza Made Extra

Submitted to Contest #162

People in the town of Chackbay in Louisiana, never liked seeing me on their doorstep; in fact, I’m sure they hated it and hated me. Small towns are much different than cities, if you didn’t know, to the point where every neighbour, every household, every family knows one another. If you can imagine towns where “who’s your father?” conversations happen in every corner, you could include Chackbay. That’s what made it quaint, but everybody earns a reputation in a town like this faster than in a city. The police station had a lot...

11 likes

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