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

Posted in Short Story on Sep 27, 2024

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✍️ 85 stories

“The Dinner” by Stasia Komadinko

Submitted to Contest #270

The kitchen filled with the smell of cooking as the meatballs browned. I was very tired and not in the mood to cook. My feet and back hurt. The meatballs burnt. I didn't care.Would it bother him? Would he notice? Maybe he'd grumble about the burnt edges, but I wondered what would upset him more tonight: the overcooked meatballs or what was going on beneath the surface? I turned down the heat, trying to save the dish, though I knew it was too late.I sat down for what felt like the first time all day and took a moment to think about it. After ...

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“The Puppy Pokey” by Murray Burns

Submitted to Contest #270

The Puppy Pokey“Life is unfair.” &nbsp...

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“Dancing with a Dandy” by Max Wightwick

Submitted to Contest #270

Dancing with a DandyWhat an age to be alive! A time when swains can sway with the ballad of transposing their daily life upon romance. Modernity, having invented commercialism, offers a variety of means for one to pluck and choose what lover seems most desirable to them. If pondered over, dating applications are akin to pottering through aisles in a supermarket. The discrepancy being that the purchase here is what divertissement is gained, fire is eroticised, or love is blossomed. The genius of it all is how, sans leaving home, one can twidd...

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“Trust Me.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #270

I. Was. So. Fucking. Pissed!It was well past midnight as I paced around the kitchen island, muttering and cussing under my breath. It was a shame that I am too civilized to scream, but my neighbors were asleep, and the walls thin. I wanted to kick something no, someone. I wanted to throw something. But decided to open a bottle of Pinot instead.When I was a child, my mother would say, ‘Go ahead, trust me. It’ll be alright,’ I went ahead and nine times out of ten she was right. The bathwater was not too hot, the sandbox messy and fun, the...

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“Corn Dogs in the Kitchen” by W. H. Goodwater

Submitted to Contest #270

“Mom, I really don’t know what to do anymore.”Every cell in his body vibrated wildly. His fingers felt heavy and cold. He reached up to touch his face, and it was too warm. He unclenched his jaw and gave a deep sigh, trying to let out some of the jitters bouncing around inside.“What’s wrong?”“I can’t seem to make the right decision,” he said with exasperation. It felt good to get out, like letting steam free from a covered pot boiling too hot. She waited patiently for more, so he continued.“Everything I try leads to failure. I'm sorry I coul...

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“Whispers in the Candlelight” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #270

The clock on the wall ticked softly, each second stretching into the next with a languid ease. It was late, long past the hour when the rest of the world surrendered to sleep. Yet, Amelia found herself awake, drawn to the quiet hush of the kitchen like a moth to a flame. The moon hung low outside the window, casting silvery beams that sliced through the gauzy curtains, painting spectral patterns across the worn wooden floor. She stepped barefoot onto the cool tiles, the faint chill seeping up through her soles. The air was thick with the sce...

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“Tick Tock” by Hannah Lynn

Submitted to Contest #270

(TW - This story contains sensitive content.)Whispering, “One, two, three, four,” she dumped the scoops into the coffeemaker. “Fuck it.” She added another scoop and flipped on the switch.The wave of nausea hit her as the pot started hissing. Grabbing hold of the counter, she closed her eyes. It was there, no doubt about it. No second guessing if it was her imagination or maybe something she ate. “Damn it.” She wiped her forehead, which was covered in a clammy film of sweat. Daryl’s thick snoring was th...

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“An American Dream” by Kim Olson

Submitted to Contest #270

I have a picture on my kitchen wall that talks to me and tells me stories. It shows a horse and buggy with its faceless driver traveling down cobblestoned streets. The picture appears repeatedly on my patterned gold wallpaper. At first when I heard it talk, early one morning, I thought I was going crazy, or was not yet awake and still dreaming. I live in my grandparents’ house, a house that my carpenter grandfather built long ago. Grandma would be 112 years old if she were alive today. My grandfather was slightly older than her.&nb...

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“Chef's Special, Locally Sourced” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #270

The cool, smooth glass in Alan’s coat pocket playfully teased his fingers from the parking lot to the rear entrance of the long hall. He glanced around, braced the brick wall next to the loading dock, and let the hot honey burn of amber nectar caress his guzzling throat. A little trickle tried to sneak by the corners of his lips, but Alan’s greedy tongue trapped it, slurped it up, and swallowed it whole.Chasing the sweet relief with a sin-smothering mint, Alan let himself in the service door, glancing at the green light of the neutralized se...

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“The Egg Substitution” by Kristy Schnabel

Submitted to Contest #270

Fiona Wesley dreaded having the conversation she needed to have. Driving to Goldie's apartment, she devised ways to break the shocking news. She trod carefully up the unlit stairs. By the time Fiona knocked on the door, she had no idea how she'd broach the difficult subject, but time was of the essence."Hi, Fiona." They embraced. "Come on in," said Goldie. "I hope you don't mind. I'm baking." Goldie led the way to the small kitchen. Goldie stood in the kitchen near the mixing bowl and measuring cup on the counter. Fiona took a seat on the ba...

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“Knight's Choice” by Kathleen Zoll

Submitted to Contest #270

Soup splattered across the kitchen floor as Iliya’s wooden spoon clattered into the heavy iron cauldron. Just a pine cord popping in the hearth, where she’d been preparing a late supper for the royal family. “Aught well?” Laelan asked from where he sat near the ingle. The armor he’d been oiling lay in a forgotten heap before him. Just the two of them in the large kitchens this evening; she’d dismissed her staff immediately after dinner, given the misadventures of the day. She turned toward him, the shimmer of flame off her pewter ewers match...

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“In Comes The Bogeyman” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #270

Granny’s in the kitchen doing a little stitching, in comes The Bogeyman and pushes Granny out…Needle in hand, workbox on the table, Adeline Cruikshank - Ads to her friends – recalled the old skipping rhyme of her schooldays. Hazel and Ruth - polio victims so it was always them - rope stretched between them, turning it up and over the pigtailed head of whoever’s ‘go’ it happened to be. Whoosh, skiff, whoosh skiff, fifteen jumped beats. White knee-high socks and buckle-my-gravel-scuffed-shoe, grey-pleated skirt a-swishing, till the word was ‘o...

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“If the Universe Were a Kitchen” by Suzanne Jennifer

Submitted to Contest #270

If the universe had a kitchen, it would be open night and day. In it there would be a book of recipes. The list of ingredients would be endless. Dark matter, cosmic rays, and celestial dust. There’d be a recipe for everything. Big recipes for the planets and small ones to make hurricanes and rainbows. The stars that twinkle in the sky are the sprinkles atop a vast chocolate cupcake. Swirling like cinnamon rolled into pastry dough are the galaxies. At the beginning of the book, you can find the universe’s recipe for generating gravity. At the...

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“The Surefire Recipe” by Lily Finch

Submitted to Contest #270

The Surefire RecipeHer mother yelled at her, “Susanna! Why can’t you be a good little girl? You know your brother is such a good little boy always.” She shook her head and began wiping the milk from the floor. Susanna hid in her princess tent next to the television in the living room. She hated it when Mommy yelled at her, which was often lately. It was always because of what Charlie did, but it made it look like Susanna had done it by the time Mommy looked or noticed.“Mommy, what does it take to be a good little boy or girl?” Susanna asked ...

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“Cheap Wine and Woodchips” by Kailey Blount

Submitted to Contest #270

The chicken nuggets simmer beneath the microwave light. I watch as candle wax drips onto the countertop in a mind-numbing descent, illuminating the kitchen in shadows. Beth perches on the head of Dad’s recliner, rocking back and forth til the sun sets and all she can see is her own reflection staring back at her. The microwave beeps slicing through the news anchor on the TV. “Dinner!” I call. “Turn of the tv...

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

Submissions are closed

✍️ 85 stories

“The Dinner” by Stasia Komadinko

“The Puppy Pokey” by Murray Burns

“Dancing with a Dandy” by Max Wightwick

“Trust Me.” by Trudy Jas

“Corn Dogs in the Kitchen” by W. H. Goodwater

“Whispers in the Candlelight” by Jim LaFleur

“Tick Tock” by Hannah Lynn

“An American Dream” by Kim Olson

“Chef's Special, Locally Sourced” by Keba Ghardt

“The Egg Substitution” by Kristy Schnabel

“Knight's Choice” by Kathleen Zoll

“In Comes The Bogeyman” by Carol Stewart

“If the Universe Were a Kitchen” by Suzanne Jennifer

“The Surefire Recipe” by Lily Finch

“Cheap Wine and Woodchips” by Kailey Blount

🌟 Similar prompts

Write a story in the form of a recipe.

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

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

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

Contest #270

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

341

Contest entries

134

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: