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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#270: The Perfect Recipe

Writing can often feel like trying to follow the perfect recipe: with the right inciting incident, you can push your character out of their status quo or comfort zone, and if you sprinkle some challenges in there, you get character development. Then, you turn the heat up until you reach a boiling point — maybe you even toss in a third-act crisis — and just before it spills over, you add the finishing touches and plate it up.

But sometimes, no matter how carefully you stick to a recipe, things don’t turn out as planned. That’s when, like any great chef, you realize it’s better to forgo exact steps and simply season to taste.

This week’s prompts take inspiration from the world of food, so grab your aprons and preheat your ovens — let’s get cooking!

This week's prompts

Write a story in the form of a recipe.

Short Story – 82 stories

Start or end your story with two people discussing an important matter over a meal.

Dramatic – 60 stories

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

Angst – 59 stories

Set your story in a kitchen, either early in the day or late at night.

Short Story – 82 stories

Write a story about someone searching for a missing ingredient, literally or metaphorically.

Dramatic – 53 stories

Stories

“Resurrection, Romance and Red Dragon Testicles” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #270

“Welcome to Summoning for Advance Summoners Volume 3”The kid holding me looked around in a panic, “Who said that?”“I did.”He continued to look around, “Who is talking?”“I’m the book you opened.”The kid walked over, picked the book up, and looked at it curiously.“You can talk?” he asked skeptically.“I can,” I answered. I had no eyes, but I had a mana sensory gland, which enabled me to see, hear, and smell everything within twenty feet of my location. So, I was more than capable of seeing the panic on the kids face when I spoke to him. “Oh wel...

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“How to Make Lobster Chowder ” by Beetle Bopjun

Submitted to Contest #270

How To Make Lobster ChowderPosted on Witch's Today by: Chelsea SutherlandPicture the leaves outside changing colour, the days are getting shorter, you notice it getting colder based on your breath coming into shape in front of you. The bugs go quiet, the birds start to migrate, people begin to prepare for the next three months of intense holidays. In this scenario, you’re just a kid and school starts next week. The world is new to you, you have no worries. Mom and dad take care of everything so you can be a kid.That’s what I go for when I ma...

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“Derailed” by Severine Desrosiers

Submitted to Contest #270

“It’s frustrating,” Maya said, pushing her fork around her plate. “I can spend half an hour laying out an idea, and no one really acknowledges it until a man repeats the same thing. she sat at the long wooden table, surrounded by familiar faces. The ambiance tonight was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware. This was a typical Friday dinner with colleagues, some more seasoned than others, where they would gather around plates of food and talk about their week, bouncing between casual jokes and deeper to...

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“Married Quarters” by Paul Littler

Submitted to Contest #270

Phoebe could only fiddle with her food, their first meal together in their first home together. She’d shrugged off the unease she felt on stepping into her husband’s cottage, rented for years whilst he served abroad. Something about it was getting under her skin. “There’s nothing wrong with this place. Laura talked rubbish about feeling weird round here. Give it time.” At the mention of his ex-wife, Phoebe looked at her new husband, struggling with his chopsticks before gi...

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“Best Served Cold” by Kara Penrod

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” by Jihad Awwad

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” by Daisy Tetlow

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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“My Journey To Nicasio” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #270

My Journey to Nicasio The alarm clock jarred me out of a dreamy slumber. I yawned, stretched, and gazed at the lazily spinning ceiling fan before tossing off the quilt and pushing my bony feet into cushy lambswool slippers. Using a cane I walked warily across the carpet to my veranda where I drew a long breath of honeysuckle-scented air and viewed the radiant sunrise. Today, September 2, 2006, is my birthday. I’m one hundred years old. It’s a serene morning, but a century of calms before storms brings a flurry of pins and needles. Later to...

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“A New Space with a Familiar Face ” by D North

Submitted to Contest #270

We haven’t spoken in nearly a year. We agreed for him to join me at 8am. I am an hour ahead, which is pushing it; but if I time things right, I can actually pull this off. One thing I’m glad about is tidying up last night. The scene of a clean kitchen is an instant motivator to cook a delicious meal. I pulled the seasoned cast iron skillet from the oven, and placed it on the stove. I grabbed my yellow potatoes from the storage bin and went to work at dicing them into one-inch sized pieces. I grabbed my mixing bowl from the l...

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“Christmas Eve Revelations” by Derek Hastings

Submitted to Contest #270

Fred Henderson climbed the stairs to his bedroom slowly. Monica was already in bed. Her excuse is that she hates Ikea projects. So she went to bed at nine-thirty, or thereabouts. Fred didn't mind much as the atmosphere in the living room, with only the lights on the tree and the presents under it, filled his soul with joy. Childhood memories enhanced the ambiance. But now it was almost midnight, and tricking out Joey's road bike was done. So, it was Time to head upstairs and get a good night's sleep. He was thankful that Joey had gotten...

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“On The Altar of her Tuscan Farmhouse” by CG Casci

Submitted to Contest #270

I’m in the kitchen cooking when the telephone rings. Onions are sweating, spinach defrosting and the meat is ready to go in. Ignore it. A sales call. Puccini is on at full volume as he often is when I cook, and the family is out. The telephone keeps ringing, Renata Scotto keeps singing and I keep cooking. Someone must win. But it could be family, run out of money, cancelled trains, school problems. ‘What are you doing?’ a woman’s voice on the other end. ‘What?’ I say. ‘Is this double glazing, appliance insurance or full-on scam?’ ‘Don’t...

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“Pixies in the Kitchen ” by Jessy Lowmaster

Submitted to Contest #270

A small fairy fluttered in through the open window, a handful of freshly picked mint leaves clasped between her fingers and glittering dots of light trailing from her wings. Most of the time, pixie dust was hard to make out. Set against the velvet black of a moonless night, however, it sparkled and shone like miniscule fireflies. “Thanks, Charlie,” I murmured, opening my palm so she could drop the mint into it. With some of the newer folk I w...

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“Demon Apathy” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #270

tw: suicide, gore “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of feeding my kids disgusting vizkus for every meal,” said the TV mother. The first thing I noticed was the black fungi sprouting on top of her head through her hair. “I miss the good ol’ days when we could eat bacon, turkey, and yams. But now, all we got is vizkus. Worse of all, our children can’t get enough of the stuff.” She turned away from the camera. “Oh, Timmy! Shelby! Breakfast is ready.” She set two plates of plain vizkus on the kitchen table. A little boy and his sis...

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“Restless” by C. Charles

Submitted to Contest #270

I feel my dog rest her head on the edge of the bed at my back. I sigh and look up to check the time. 2:43 A.M. My love is sleeping next to me and facing away, her breath slow and rhythmic like waves rolling gently against the sand. My dog sets her head down again, harder this time, and lets out a soft, airy whimper. “All right, all right,” I whisper to her as I roll over and throw the blankets off. I haven’t really slept yet tonight—I’ve drifted and dozed and my mind has wandered into that strange place where everything and nothing makes se...

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“The Missing Ingredient ” by Isabella Sparks

Submitted to Contest #270

Watching her granddaughter keep their tradition alive, she couldn’t help but smile. She hoped that the young girl could feel her presence, and that she hadn’t forgotten what her grandmother taught her. A wave of sadness and longing washed over her as she watched her struggle to make the holiday dinner preparations alone. Grandma knew the first year would be the hardest, the first Thanksgiving after she passed. She found herself hoping that she would persist, that the loss would not make her want to give up. She was touched that her gra...

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$250

Prize money

336

Contest entries

133

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Oct 04, 2024 EST

Won by Jay Wayne 🏆

Title: Add Vodka to Taste

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

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