Michaela Dennean

“All You Need Is a Cat” by Michaela Dennean

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #161

Winston never liked England in March. He didn't like the unreliable weather, constant dampness in the air, and the seemingly never-ending days. It held a dreariness in it that no other months did. But Rosemary loved March, and Winston loved Rosemary. She spent hours creating shamrock garlands, baking loaves of Irish soda bread, and singing the Prady song in her soft dulcet tones. She lit up during March, her lips quirking up into a smile that didn't fade until April 1. For Rosemary, March brought her back to a simpler time, a time ...

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“Tea: A Unifying Force” by Michaela Dennean

Submitted to Contest #128

The doorbell chimed, announcing yet another customer.  It seemed like everyone from the the island of Manhattan had come to Just a Cuppa to get a hot drink on that cold January day.  “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift flooded the tea shop, setting a cozy mood. Fragrant blooms overflowed old tea cups used as vases set on each table. A sweet aroma filled the room, a mix of spicy chai tea and the famous Just a Cuppa lemon olive oil cake.  Meredith Porter-Benoit balanced four tea cups and saucers, two dessert tiers, and a china tea po...

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“The Bad Day” by Michaela Dennean

Submitted to Contest #96

I look around the dark, completely furnished yet still empty bedroom of my childhood. It looks just the same as it did twenty-five years ago when the Bad Day happened. It looks as if the Bad Day never happened. As if time had just stood still and let this room stay on pause while the rest of the world changed. The top two drawers of the dresser in the corner are open, just as I had left them, clothes spewing out. My purple diary lies on the rickety old desk, the pink feather pen still lying next to it. A row of teddy bears stand on the floo...

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“The Parisienne on Rue de Varenne” by Michaela Dennean

June 14th, 1940, Paris, France Marie-Thérèse Bouc blew a blonde curl out of her face as she tried to capture the likeness of her cat, Toulouse, on her canvas. She started to paint Toulouse’s face, which is the hardest part, due to his large ears.  Suddenly, the cat, who had been sitting on a pillow nearby with his paws tucked under his belly,  jumped up and ran out of the room.  Marie-Thérèse let out a long, annoyed groan. She had been working on the painting for days, and she wanted to have it ready as a present for her ma...

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“Confessions of a Foodaholic” by Michaela Dennean

Submitted to Contest #46

I crack an egg, careful not to let the yolk fall into the bowl. Just as I'm getting the last of the egg white out, the doorbell rings. I drop the egg in surprise, and the yolk completely splatters into the bowl,  ruining my all-egg-white-meringue for my latest recipe: mini dark chocolate pavlovas with a light whipped cream and drizzled raspberry coulis on top. I grunt in frustration, then wipe my hands on a dish towel and answer the door. A mailman is there, holding a big package.  “Hello, are you Mrs. Ella Ashby?” he asks. I nod,...

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