It was a tight, stuffy kitchen. The chef was piping orders over the clinging and chaos of ladles and lids. The steam from the freshly roasted leg of lamb made the atmosphere hazy. It was a late Tuesday night here at the Bricklane Eatery.
A rowdy crowd of rebellious youths’ voices echoed through the kitchen door from upstairs.
The pressure was on. The chef did not want to disappoint . Conquering the hungry was his motive. The staff looked depleted, it had been a long weekend of platters, flatbread and popcorn chicken. It had been no easy burden to overcome; but as the saying goes, there is always mouths to feed.
Young apprentice Tod, whom had only spent a week of his life under the strict and rigid command of the chef, felt imprisoned. Tod was a high school dropout and had stumbled upon the Bricklane Eatery quite unexpectedly. He was on his way home from another unsuccessful job interview. The fifth of that week, when he stopped to rest ( and sigh). Looking in through the nearest window he noticed the most delightful desserts. It was the most heavenly, sweet surprise he had ever encountered. Eager to see more, he climbed up over the railing which separated the window and himself.
Here he was face to face with the giant kitchen. It was a shiny spectacle. Peering evermore eagerly, he fell through.
A heavy thud was heard by all, and the kitchen staff were periodically frozen from their workflow.
Tod had fallen in through the window and smashed into a tray of freshly baked biscuit treats. Face first, might I add. Tod, partly in shock, and pain, he wiped the mess from his mouth and chin. The cream and toppings left him with a sweet tooth.
A short story written impromptu during a meet up with other writers. We each chose a word that needed to be added to the story.
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