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Write a story inspired by the saying “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Posted in Angst on Sep 27, 2024

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✍️ 59 stories

Best Served Cold

Submitted to Contest #270

It was an ordinary evening in the sticky, hot, Louisiana summer. The mosquitos came in swarms and the crops were ready for harvesting. “The boys and Hector must be busy reaping the corn.” I thought. I, as the only female, had to cook the meals and stay in the kitchen most of the time. Sweat poured down my face as I slaved over my masters dinner. Pork chops fresh from this morning. Crisp, cool, vegetables picked earlier today. And finally lamb stew with potatoes and onions. It was almost done. The meat was finished. I was just chopping vegeta...

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The Alchemist

Submitted to Contest #270

I need to hurry; the Duke will arrive any minute. What would he think if he found his adopted daughter poisoning his final meal? That doesn't matter anymore. He's shown his true colors—the monster I've always known hiding a wolf in sheep's clothing. Ten years EarlierI stood with my father, Duke Casterwall, in our gazebo. Watching as Queen Amina's armada docked at our harbor. A plague had begun to ravage the northern isles, and the queen sought my father's council every seven months. For Duke, Casterwall was known for his skills as an expert ...

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Dear in the Headlights

Submitted to Contest #270

‘Don’t fucking embarrass me’ ‘They’re my parents,’ I said, lurching forward when he parked the car. We were outside Rome Italia, a restaurant my parents liked, palatable for my father, who was never interested in exploring beyond smoked fish, and expensive enough for my mother. ‘That’s not my point,’ he started, ‘when we had tea cakes with Cath and her gay boyfriend, you forgot to call me your fiance.’ He was childish like this. When I had humiliated him in front of Cath, he laughed, squeezing my shoulders tightly as if to say...

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The Visit (Inspired by the play The Visit of the Old Lady by Friedrich Dürrenmatt)

Submitted to Contest #270

"Stop the train," she said in a cold, indifferent tone. "But ma'am, the trains never stop in Gilen," the conductor responded nervously. "Give him 500 euros," she said to her servant in the same unchanged tone. The servant, as if knowing exactly what was expected of him, handed over the money. Klara stood up, limping ever so slightly, and made her way to the exit. The conductor quietly added, "You should have pulled the brake." With a smile like the Mona Lisa but with eyes brimming with malice, she responded casually, "I never pull the brakes...

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Forget Me Not

Submitted to Contest #270

Janie:My hands ache from the rapidly developing blisters on my palms. My arms feel tight and burn from the intensive labor of digging a hole in the damp earth, big enough for a person to fit inside. Tonight, I’ll show him what true love looks like, even if it means spilling blood. I force the pointed tip of the shovel into the dirt, time and time again, until I feel a bead of rain splash on my cheek. I heed Mother Nature’s warning and begin to drag Ms. Bumble Gum Pink Bimbo Barbie, I mean Brynn, into the loamy soil. With the rain tonight, I ...

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Karma's Kitchen

Submitted to Contest #270

Karma’s Kitchen was buzzing with life, an upscale hotspot that blended Southern soul food with a Caribbean twist. Warm amber lights bathed the polished tables, and the low hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. The walls were adorned with eclectic art and historical jazz musicians that captured the essence of the South and the islands. The sweet smoky aroma of jerk chicken, collard greens, and fried plantains lingered in the air, tempting every guest who walked through the door.  This wasn’t ...

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Of Method and Madness

Submitted to Contest #270

“Your sugar is a little low," The nurse said. "But the doctor will be in shortly. Would you like some juice while you wait?”“Sure,” Joshua said. “Do you have any cranberry juice?”The nurse frowned. “Sorry, all we have is orange. Cranberry seems to go quick.”“Oh okay, no thank you.” He smiled. “I don’t want my breath to stink worse than it already does.”His awkward attempt at a laugh ended with him coughing, all but souring the moment. The nurse smiled politely and left the room. Embarrassed, he slumped in the hospital chair and tried imagini...

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The Frozen Vows

Submitted to Contest #270

Chapter 1Determined footsteps crunched through the mushy snow as the woman in a white cashmere coat hurried down the crowded sidewalk. Her long brown hair, pulled into a ponytail, swayed in the chilly air.“Shouldn’t have worn heels today.” She slipped slightly in her pink boots before stopping in front of Sweet City Bridal. After a quick glance at her reflection, she entered.The doorbell rang, and she froze. There, standing just feet away, was the last person she wanted to see—Ben Park. His dark-hooded eyes widened in shock.“Hi! You must be ...

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Just Salad

Submitted to Contest #270

“Where is that cilantro,” he mumbled to himself, rifling through the spices like an old man searching for his nitro pills, pains in his chest rising. “I know I have cilantro!” More small jars tumbled free of the cabinet to land on the counter to spin, roll, or drop to the floor. Time was skimming by much quicker as the evening approached; his guests would be arriving in a few hours and there was much to do. He did not want to disappoint. Finally, gleaming from the back shadows, a glass jar with a hastily scribed label of masking tape and mar...

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A Sweet, Cold Finish

Submitted to Contest #270

It was over dessert—smoked brown butter ice cream accompanied by a delicious cornmeal pie—that I had decided to go through with my plan. It began, much as I presume this dish once had, as a concept I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. The idea formed as haphazardly as a child’s drawing. A stick-figure and delusional concept arrived in my brain, unwarranted, but curiosity kept the mind experimenting. The plan developed as thoughtfully as the flavors of this ice cream. I took a bite. There was a warmth to it. The spoon dipped into a glass jar...

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Fluffy’s Remorse

Submitted to Contest #270

My name is Dirk. I don’t remember when I fell in love with Maribeth, but it was sometime during my senior year in high school. I was 17. We spent endless days together, driving aimlessly with the windows down in the old Buick, ballroom dancing, laughing at private jokes, going to the drive-in movies they still had back then, and sharing dreams as vast as the horizon.  Maribeth had a way of making the world brighter. Her laughter was infectious. She was a dancer, and her energy was boundless. The girl was beautiful in an effortless way, ...

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A Nice 140 Degrees

Submitted to Contest #270

“They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I prefer mine at a nice 140 degrees. You see, this is the perfect temperature to drink a nice cup of coffee.” She spoke in a cold, detached manner. She spoke as if she had said this thousands of times before and would speak this line a thousand more. “I’m sorry. Could you explain what you mean by that?” Sat across from her was a young man, well he was young compared to the woman. Unbeknownst to her today was this young man’s birthday. He turns 34 today. “You seem like a smart young ...

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Envy, Madness, and a Dish Best Served Cold

Submitted to Contest #270

Madness engulfed him. It seized his thoughts and actions—and before he could stop himself, he thrust the silver serrated blade into Serra’s chest.He gripped the blade with both hands, even as his heart quailed at the irredeemable act of attempted murder.                 The feeling did not last long. His face curled in a snarl, and with a pitiful, inarticulate cry he stabbed, and stabbed, until Serra’s lips were blue, and her chest drawn tight as she gasped ...

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Mia's Garden

Submitted to Contest #270

(TW: mentions of miscarriages, cheating) They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and I learned that the hard way the day I uncovered my husband’s betrayal. After fifteen years of marriage, I finally trusted my instincts. For months, I had felt the distance between us growing—his late nights at “work,” the hushed conversations that abruptly ended when I walked into the room, and his dwindling interest in me. When I checked his location, my heart dropped: he was headed to a house just around the corner. A house belonging to my best...

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A MATTER OF LIVING

Submitted to Contest #270

A MATTER OF LIVING1 As he struggled to consciousness, Jack Corbin felt the burning of sweat rolling into his eyes. Where am I? Slowly, his vision cleared. He was in a basement, stone walls smelling of mildew, and cobwebs hanging from the ceilings. His hands and feet were shackled and he was strapped in a chair reminiscent of a throne, or perhaps the electric chair.  He tried to re-construct the events that preceded his awakening.  He had met with Dutch, supposedly an informant for the Rochester Police Department...

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