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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

As a child you’re helping your grandparent bake. When you’re sent to the pantry to fetch an ingredient, you discover something odd.

Posted in Mystery on Oct 13, 2023

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✍️ 41 stories

“Pass the Peonies, Please” by L.A. Slaton

Submitted to Contest #220

October 25, 2023 At a ceremony in downtown Atlanta last night, local chefs gathered for a milestone occasion during which Michelin presented its coveted one-, two- and three-star distinctions to area restaurants for Atlanta’s inaugural Michelin guide, globally renowned as the gold standard for identifying restaurants that deliver extraordinary culinary excellence. Receiving a rare Michelin three-star distinction was The Psychedelic Rose, a restaurant owned by Chef Justin Wallace, critically acclaimed for his dishes specializing in edibl...

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“One Last Time” by Vivacity Rex

Submitted to Contest #220

The sweet aroma of baked bread and chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen. Flour covers the countertop as Sarah flings another handful at the chunk of lumpy dough in front of her.  “Ma would never allow me to throw the flour!” I exclaim, craning my neck to look up at Grandma Berti.  As she leans back, her laughter breaks through the serene melodies of the always-present AM radio. She works her smooth, round dough with expert hands. “Baking is meant to be messy. Grab another cookie, dear.”  I love being at Grandma Berti’s. R...

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“Witchin' In The Kitchen” by D.P. Bryant

Submitted to Contest #220

Mark's Grandma, Jo, was a woman of many mysteries. She lived in a charming cottage at the edge of a dense forest, surrounded by a garden that seemed to be perpetually in bloom. Her kitchen, in particular, was a place of enchantment, filled with the aroma of spices and herbs that seemed to dance in the air. For as long as Mark could remember, his visits to Grandma Jo's were nothing but spectacular, and today would be no different.Mark had spent the morning helping his grandmother prepare for a special occasion. But the reason for the celebrat...

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“Family secrets” by Christian Melot

Submitted to Contest #220

It's Saturday. It's one of those autumn weekends when Mum drops me off at Grandma and Grandpa's house. When the weather's nice, we play in the garden. What's more, at the beginning of the summer, Grandpa put a swing in there for me. Perfect for July, very average in October. Everything gets wet and the dead leaves stick to the seat. Besides, it's too cold for Grandpa to push me. As soon as the temperature drops, he can't stop complaining about his knee. I gather it's from a war injury. I asked what war was like and Grandpa showed me his rifl...

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“The Red Light” by Nora C

Submitted to Contest #220

The sun shone through the window as I woke up with the sweet smell of peonies and fresh linen hanging just outside my window. Streams of sunlight faded in and out of my room as clouds passed in front. I stretched lightly and heard pans banging and rattling in the kitchen. Slowly getting up from my small bed with tattered linens and my grandmother’s home made quilt, I walked across the cold wooden floor towards the door. The kitchen was full of dishes and my grandmother was pulling more from her cupboards. My grandfather was sitting in h...

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“Made With Love” by K R

Submitted to Contest #220

(TW: body horror, description of a panic attack, death) Nana always called it baking, but it didn’t feel like baking to Caleb. To him, it felt sort of like alchemy, or maybe even magic. It was a secret they held together, creation for the sole purpose of creation. It was the construction of something wretched, something wrong, and it was damnation and blasphemy. Cruelty and morbidity.  But Nana just called it baking.  “It goes in the oven,” she would tell him when he mentioned it, “so it must be baking.”  From where he...

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“Baking with Nanna” by Darrian Lynx

Submitted to Contest #220

One of my fondest memories from childhood was baking cookies with my grandmother. Of course, life gets in the way as you grow older and at 19 years old, I hadn't baked with Nanna in a very long time.  Then my mother died. It wasn't an accident or a murder or anything like that. No, it was good old cancer...  ...... I was 14 and it was bedtime for my sister and I. My sister had jumped into bed with my mom, begging her to allow her to sleep there rather than her own bed. My mom had surprisingly relented. At around 3am I woke from a d...

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“Recipe for a Storm” by Alexander Corby

Submitted to Contest #220

              My hand struck the cutting board and a cloud of flour erupted from the counter, the small white flakes sparkling and dancing in the morning sunbeams. I squealed in delight. I didn’t want to make a mess, I just wanted to watch the sunbeams sparkle. The sun was shining bright and the warm spring weather made my feet want to jump and play. For some reason, the weather was always nice when Granny Gran made pie.         &nbs...

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“Hannibal the Animal” by Jonathan Page

Submitted to Contest #220

Nana was one of those women who was at home anywhere, but the kitchen at Popop’s house was her place. She animated the space. The pots, pans, ladle, and spatula. They were extensions of her flappy old arms. As she moved over the pans, she smelled of lavender, talcum powder, and fresh bedding—mixed with the aroma of spices, ground pepper, parsley, and red pepper flakes simmering in oil and coating the eggs. Her owl-like eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed as soon as she got busy fixing a meal.I was ready for a good meal. I’d been up all ni...

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“Grandma"s House” by Debra Demars

Submitted to Contest #220

Jenny Parker and I usually walked home from school together. Maybe "walked" wasn't the right word. We usually raced each other, our cheeks cherry red from running.      But not today. Today my father was picking me up because I was spending the weekend with my grandparents. I loved spending the weekend with my grandparents. They live out in the country, while my parents and I live in the city.     Whenever I come home from my grandparent's house I always feel like I've been wrapped in a ...

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“Special Ingredient” by Jed Cope

Submitted to Contest #220

Granddad was an OK cook. I think at some point the cooking duties were shared more fully and I recall Mum telling me about the fluffy Victoria sponges Gran used to make. Somewhere along the way Gran withdrew. She withdrew in a way that I could never quite square. The way she was crept up on everyone. She became larger than life and yet she became less than she was. She wasn’t quite herself and she didn’t do some of the things she used to do.  As it is in many families and in particular marriages, the spaces left by one party were fill...

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“Gramps's Pie” by Aditi Kumar

Submitted to Contest #220

'For this recipe, d'you think the judges will check if she's alive?'I nearly upended a tin of flour, giggling madly. Gramps could bake like nobody's business, but more importantly, he was a born storyteller. Whenever my parents dropped me off on fall weekends so they could cuddle up to create their own October warmth, Gramps and I baked cakes, tarts, tortes, rolls, cookies, donuts and last year, a particularly fine tower of choux pastry for his neighborhood's Annual Halloween Baking Contest. And like the sugar he spun, he had me spellbound w...

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“The Most Embarrassing Thing Story” by Karen McDermott

Submitted to Contest #220

I was helping out Grandma in the kitchen. It had become our bimonthly ritual since parents had moved into The New House. Mum had wanted to move to a place that had a bigger garden and fewer neighbours. Dad and I had been completely comfortable at The New House once all our stuff was unpackaged. Mum, however, was adamant the place was a fixer upper. So while they spent every other Saturday in the shops comparing swatches of carpet and pouring over tins of paint called things like Iced Latte and Glazed Apricot, Grandma and I would bake. Gra...

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“FRANKIE'S WILD RIDE” by Susan Catucci

Submitted to Contest #220

Francine ran up the porch steps, then tried stomping her Keds hard enough to make an impression.  She learned quickly that sneaker soles had no impression-making ability whatsoever, especially on old, worn out carpet made a zillion years ago. It seemed the only thing Francine had accomplished was to release clouds of dormant dust from another era. Francine covered her nose and moved to the window seat a little quicker.She heard voices coming from the driveway just outside the big bay window. Francine concentrated on ...

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“Struffoli and Magic” by Laura Eliz

Submitted to Contest #220

The recipe for struffoli reads as such:400 g (3 cups) of flour3 medium eggs80 g (1/3 cup) of unsalted butter40 g (2 3/4 tablespoons) of granulated sugar2 tablespoons of anise liquorzest of 1 orange1/2 teaspoon of baking powder or baking soda1/4 teaspoon of salt600 ml (2 1/2 cups) of vegetable oil for frying250 g (3/4 cup) of Wildflower honeyTo garnish: slivered almonds andsprinkles“Nonna”, I said to my great grandmother. “Grandma doesn’t put liquor in her struffoli”.“Laura, my secret ingredient is a latin american liquor and that’s why ...

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Contest #220

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