by N. I. Rojas
Hardly, happiness endures. Especially mine. My chance to keep a cute man’s heart was trifling compared to any of those girls. Aspiring to have such man’s love was childish of me. Men like him come and go with discretion, leaving a fat trail of hearts broken. I won’t be another of his amorous conquests. No sir. I won’t.
“Morgan!” -Lavender called me with a little girl’s voice. -“I want a picture of you and Sam alone. I want to take pride and responsibility of your meeting when you guys walk the aisle someday.”
Everybody around whispered at Lavender’s comment, gossips turning into a strong buzz. My face turned paler and I felt beaten when turned into the mockery of people. The best man walked towards me, holding me by the waist and guiding me to the signaled decorated corner.
“Smile, precious. Show this people what they deserve. One of those big precious grins.” -Sam flirted close to my neck and I couldn’t avoid the huge smile that appeared in my face.
Engraved cake knife and server in hand, I stood behind the enormous four-tier cake after the newlyweds photos were taken. The silver hearts handle ended engraved in the palm of my hands. I hadn’t notice I held both things with supernatural force. Panic adorned my mind and I felt jumpy with every word said. His eyes on me were those of a hungry wolf and I was shaken in denial. I’ll never be somebody’s prey.
Sinking the silver blade in the top layer, the fine strawberry juices dripped through the delicate frosting and air was filled with awesome aromas of happiness and relaxation. The fast beating of my heart calmed a bit and I inhaled deep. I felt happy I hadn’t poisoned the cake cause I was planning on eating a slice of every tier. If the best man wasn’t hawk-watching me.
Love was in the air, I could smell it. Damn you, Morgan. Love is really in the air!
As the first chunk of cake caressed the fine china dish, vomit went flying everywhere. Villagers ran to escape the relentless torrents of nastiness. I stood there, first and only piece of cake served still in my hand, while Jerome yelled at me.
“What have you done? You poisoned them all.”
Chapter 2: Virginity Blanket
How I ended in a place full of sick people, a town forgotten by God, but also by Demon? To bring the mercy they needed so bad. To get rid of the plague they all are. They’ll pay for what they had done, and they are paying already.
It’s curious how people look at me, a mix of feelings, entangled emotions flowing from their eyes, giving them away. It's mesmerizing sometimes how hideous people can come to be. Pity and awe are definitely a bad match when looking at someone like me, but if you add the imaginary capacity to hear people’s thoughts (an ability I made up)… that’s unquestionably the worst match of all.
I know my walking can be distracting but it is not something terrifying that deserves to be watched with mean curiosity. Wobbling steps, crippled I am, limp maybe, but not too much. Just a jump every other step. One thing I know. I don’t deserve pity, for goodness sake.
Awe. How a crippled young lady like me can make such glorious desserts, healthy and satisfying? How a pretty face had to be cursed with being handicap? I hear them. Every word. Every whisper escaping their mouths after filling themselves with my doughnuts and pastries.
Believe me, I have other curses that worry me the most, not my funny walking.
They’ll pay for the way they look at me. They’ll pay for their nasty thoughts. They’ll pay for what they had done to me and my family. They’ll pay for what they do to me daily.
My cakes are quite expensive, but it’s impossible to put price on Maghik. Every design is luxurious and unique. I never make the same cake twice and its flavor is always impossible to match. I feed the people of this silly and sad town with my creations… I use my fragile hands to design artworks. There is a saying: the outstanding cuisine requires magic. There is much truth in that. But needs much more. It needs Maghik.
They pay me for what I do to them, for what I’ll do to them. For now, I take their money as exchange to feed my hate. But soon, not the money in the world could buy their freedom, their preservation. There would never exist richness that could pacify the desire to take their lives away. Forever.
Being a witch is not easy these days. The town’s only Baker would never raise suspicion on people. What damage can I do with perfect buns of bread and buttery croissants? For now, I make their mouths water every morning while men are on their way to work. While woman fix their hairs and embellish themselves with so many useless garments. Every second while they draw in their faces insolent smiles they don’t really feel, they fill their lives with more of my perfectly designed pastries.
If a witch is discovered in this century, when people call themselves modern, she’ll suffer physical pain beyond knowledge. Electrical chair, gas room, lethal medicine, but nothing of those rudimentary human methods will take our lives away. Our souls, on the other hand, will be stolen away by those who dare to call themselves religious. Those people really possess witchcraft.
Let’s get this straight. Maghik and diabolism is not the same. That’s a very common misuse of both words. Maghik, you’re born with it. Diabolism is developed with the passing years, with wounds and impressions. Maghik cannot be forced into you. Diabolism is forced to people every day. In TV, magazines, schools and governments shoving God aside.
What I do is called Maghik. Ok, I do cakes. Caterings too. I own my shop.
But that’s not important about me.
What matters is that my life is a breath away from changing.
And maybe not for good.
A witch’s ability goes as far as the witch allows. I, for example… I don’t really know what I can do. I know every thought of every creature I cross path with, except humans. I know, I know. What a bummer! There’s not much to learn from toads and flies you’ll say. But you’d be surprised.
Well, I do have one ability. Something I know I do better than any other person in the world. I make the most delicious and perfect dishes and desserts worldwide. You’ll say that’s not much. Nothing to love me or hold me as a dear friend but in a town as this, preparing the best foods makes me a keeper.
Walking from home to my shop isn’t always a good idea. Kids tend to throw stuff at me, calling me mocking names for how I walk. But, believe me, when they enter my store, they run away from their mommies’ hands and stick their dirty noses into my gleaming showcases. There, standing in front of my awesome creations, they behave like angels. And they treat me like a goddess in exchange of a chunk of fudgy-chocolate cake.
Still humiliated by the previous day’s turning of events and avoiding everyday’s usual torture, I decided to drive my minivan to work. Besides, with a car as cool as mine, who wants to leave it parked, gathering dust? That gave me some advantage as I was taking a few trays of artisan bread I baked this morning. Lets face it. I woke up starving in the middle of the night and my stomach growled, begging me to feed it with some carbs.
Who am I lying to? I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating like a chased animal, and the only thing I imagined were his eyes gleaming with the fire of their torches. Vomit was also poisoning my dream, building up inside my brain and in my throat.
I couldn’t help but think that my thoughts had poisoned the wedding food somehow. I don’t even know if that’s possible but I couldn’t reject it as an option either. I was certain I didn’t use any physical thing, spice, condiment, sugar, plant or real spell to make the town ill. I wished it, yes, but I contradicted myself for my cousin’s benefit.
But talking about bread… How could I deny my body what it was asking me so pleading? Freshly baked bread is the only thing to make me forget anything.
As always, I did way too much bread, confectioner at last. But oh I can only imagine the pleasure reflected in this people’s faces when they come by and see this bread, still warm, with a scoop of butter melting quickly. Pure breakfast richness they don’t deserve to have.
But I’m not that greedy! I can share.
&nb
sp; Until death set us apart.
Music on, I drove my black and red Luxgen Sport with almost one hand. A slice of bread with provolone and salami traveled from the wheel to my mouth and back. Steaming coffee danced in the mug while I tried to sip and drive. Drive and sip. Despite the richness of the bread, every thought about yesterday was still in the front page of my brain. Did I really poison the town last night? Did I really turn up to be a cruel witch to poison kids at my cousin’s wedding? What if I killed them? Will I ever forgive myself?
Why was I punishing myself for it if this was my plan in the first place?
People gathered in the street close to Lavender’s new home forced me to stop the van. I went out, closing the door quickly fearing my bread would become a cold dead rock.
“What happens?” -I asked Oliver Jackson, a worker in his twenty-something that was laughing like a maniac. For a few seconds he looked at me like if I was a most wanted criminal.
“Seems your new cousin is celebrating big.” -Oliver replied, twisting his lips at me.
“And that means what exactly?” -I asked again. He guided me through the crowd so I could see what he was talking about. There, in the yard bare of flowers, a white blanket stained in red was at full display. -“Is that what I think it is?”
Horror was so evident in my words as if I haven’t spoken calmly but instead I had yelled.
“Virginity blanket.” -An old woman standing with her walking cane assured. -“But why would you care? Weren’t you who tried to ruin her wedding just yesterday?”
“I didn’t do anything.” -I defended myself. Walking fast, I snatched the damn blanket. It flew with the wind as a flag high in the pole. I started calling Lavender’s name until Jerome opened a gap through the door.
“I need to talk to my cousin.” -I yowl almost choking with his nasty naked chest. If I hate one thing in a man is a chest as hairy as a bearskin rug. Have you seen a shaved bear? Now you got the idea of how Jerome will look behind all those pounds of corporal hair.
“She’s in her honeymoon.” -Jerome teased, touching his hairy chest. I managed not to vomit all over his face.
“I don’t care. She might as well be on the moon and I’ll wait to talk to her.” -Iresponded, nauseated.
“Then you’ll be long waiting. Besides, she knows you don’t care. You tried to kill us in our wedding day. Thanks to our ancestors I told her not to eat anything.” -He answered back. His words brought the image of Lavender engulfing a crumb cake. -“And give me our blanket back.”
I looked at him defiantly while he kept asking for that piece of crap, but I threw it to the ground far away from the house’s door.
“You think this is funny? This is humiliating. The whole town needs to see this? Lavender thought you were a gentleman but you just wanted to show off. Quite a filthy man you are.” -I yelled at him full of rage.
Jerome threw the door in my face and I stood there a second or two until I heard a crowd of murmurs at my back. Shit, I was making quite a show in front of the whole town. Just what I needed to add to my recent curriculum.
“Get out. Get out, nosy meddlers. You’ve nothing better to do than sticking your noses into other people’s crap? Go, away!” -I yelled hard while tears of pain and shame for my cousin started sliding in my cheeks.
I drove the last part of the road in automatic thanking the baking gods for the cruise control. So I don’t remember exactly how I arrived to my bakery, but there I was, sitting behind the driving wheel, crying like a scolded baby. It was still early, six fifteen at the most, so I had fifteen minutes to open the store, accommodate the artisan breads in a display tray and engulf something to make myself forget.
The closed sign was still glued to the door. It made me laugh, but it wasn’t funny at all. Closed today. Sweeten you at the weeding!
Such an idiot I am. The whole mock of this idiotic town. Maybe it was time to break tradition and stop assisting to every celebration. Because yes, every party, gathering, or whatever, the whole town must be there. Maybe next time Sweet Menace remains open and of course I stay here.
The flow of people in my shop wasn’t normal and I was concern that the morning show had something to do with it. The bread turned cold waiting for customers who usually were waiting for it with crazy desires and drooling mouths. Behind the display tray, the bread was calling my name. Call it witchcraft, anxiety, or however you want to, but it forced me to nibble constantly.
Of course it wasn’t my early tantrum but the people thinking I poisoned the food. It had to be. Under which evidence they blame me for their indigestion? They eat the way they act, like raged animals.
“Ms. Caprice?” -I turned around not knowing the owner of such deep voice. When I saw him securing his shotgun in the belt hanging crossed across his shoulders and chest, I couldn’t help but wish not to give my thoughts away. Shock was the first reaction when I saw his face again. Young yet stern, handsome as none other. -“Are you Ms. Caprice, the Cake Maker?”
“Yes.” -I hurried to answer, though everybody knew my name already, except this cute guy.
“I’m Officer Sam Whilhey. I need you to accompany me to the police station.” -He stated as if he was talking about the weather. I didn’t hear anything beyond those words. I didn’t even remember there was a police station in this gloomy town. -“Are you listening to me?”
I was numb. Why was I looked by justice? I haven’t done anything. Not yet anyway. And what was Sam doing dressed like a village cop? A very cute and attractive city cop instead of a junk-food eater villager police.
“Sorry.” -I managed an apology. It had been only a day when he asked me to dance, but he seemed ignorant to my memory. -“Why are you here?”
“There are serious accusations against you. A man claims you tried to poison the town last night. Several people ended sick and that may be related to the wedding food.” -He informed.
“Are you serious? You must be kidding me. Poison the town? Really?” -Soon this cute man seemed hideous to me. I let my guard down without wanting. -“You were there too. You ate the same food too. Why aren’t you sick then?”
“It’s my duty to investigate the accusations. You can come by own will or I’ll be forced to handcuff you.” -Despite his serious face his eyes were saying ‘I’ll like to do that so bad’. The idea made me laugh even though I’ll have no other option than to go with him.
“Okay. Your car or mine?” -I asked with a smile. There was no use with fighting. Justice would have come sooner or later, but why was I flirting with him?
I don’t know.
Let me get this straight. I have never been attracted by a male before. I have never been attracted to anyone ever! This can only mean trouble. My people will know about it, if there are others like me out there, which I started to doubt long ago.
Before I had the opportunity to give bent to my plan, the town was sicker than what I expected and it was obvious someone -besides me- was behind this vomitive purge.
Chapter 3: Another Witch?
Taken as a criminal to the police station was something new to me. Sam, the handsome best man, left me with another cop who was the one leading me to justice. From outside my shop, Officer Sam Whilhey just left in a motorcycle without a hint that he recognized me. In the police station I was led to an interrogation room and left by myself there. I sat to think. My head was so full of feelings I couldn’t think with sanity. Resting my head to the cold surface of the stainless steel table I remembered what he had said. I was there under the suspicions of poisoning the town’s people.
“Want water?”
I straightened myself in the cold chair and looked at him. Confusion took power of me. Confusion and pain. How someone can make me feel so perplexed and nervous when I’m the one who plays to be the killer queen bee? When I’m the one under investigation? He asked again but I just denied with the head.
“Morgan, what exactly did you do yesterday?” -He asked, all official and protocol.
“
Well, before or after dancing with you?” -I dared to answer with a no-nice tone.
“You think this is funny? You know why you’re here? These are serious accusations and you want to play flirting?” -He scolded me.
“I’m sorry.” -I said looking at my hands sweating and twisting in my lap. Oh, boy! This man seriously knows his way to make a woman feel shame.
“What exactly didyou doyesterday? Something new you usedwith your food? Someone else helped you cook or at the wedding?” -He kept making questions.
“Nobody helps me cook. I always cook alone. In the reception I had help to serve the food and entrées.”
“You know those people? Trust them?” -Sam continued with the interrogation. -“I need a list of their names.”
It was hard for me to understand why all this was happening. I thought this was related to what happened with Jerome’s blanket that morning but I was very wrong.
“I don’t understand what’s happening. I have neverhad problems in my life.” -I told him while writing some names in a piece of paper he handed me. -“How would I poison this people? Especially my only relative?”
As soon as the words left my lips I regretted having asked. My cheeks blushed so bad I feared I was giving myself away. What if, in fact, my hatred for this people was so big that it turned into a spirit zest to spice yesterday’s food? No. It couldn’t be. I have cooked with hate revolving my foundation since I set foot in this town of murderers and profaners and I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.
“See Morgan, people got sick yesterday. People at the wedding. People who ate your food and your sweets. Help me with this, please.”
What only came to my mind was that my thoughts found a way to inside the food, to poison people. My biggest wish was to kill the groom. But I can’t tell him that. I can’t say it. I can’t let him know my rage and hatred. I would never say it aloud to him.
