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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2189935
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Dark · #2189935
John discovers there's a lot more about his family that melts his heart.

It was late in the evening. John and the kids weren’t home yet.

I was in the kitchen baking gingerbread man cookies in the oven. There was a sudden hoot that made me jump out of my skin. It was the buzzer of course from the oven, announcing that the cookies were ready.

I took them all out, sixteen smiling gingerbread men in their handsome brown delectable bodies, waiting for the world to munch on them, all cooked with raisins, marzipan, coconut and winter love.

Their eyes were a treat, made out of lemon meringue buttons with strawberry icing for those lips.

So damn real. Each one staring back at me.

Till I saw one winking back.



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It was half past two as John and the kids drove into the extended driveway in front of the villa, after their long drive from boarding school.

The kids hopped out in excitement as they looked forward to their school vacation at home.


The doorbell rang loudly, echoing across the house. Silence.

John pressed the bell again. Silence that seemed like an eternity.

The kids looked at each other in anticipation. John frowned.

He was just starting to turn to the corner to glance through the front hall windows, when he heard the sound of footsteps.




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Rania opened the door smiling and throwing her arms open wide, dramatically. The kids ran towards her warm embrace.

John hugged them all in a giant bear hug and they headed inside.

The room was dark. John moved to open the curtains in the hallway and bumped into something. He suddenly heard what sounded like a chomping sound, loud gurgling, lip smacking noises.

The light came on finally and he turned around. And froze.

There, standing on the landing of the hallway was Rania, but different, almost ginger faced. Her face seemed to have sunk in a mass of brown dough fodder, her eyes, appearing like chocolate buttons, somehow unreal.

At her feet lay the kids, their faces staring back at him, hands reaching out melting and falling on the floor with a sickly plop plop sound, like Gingerbread People.


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© Copyright 2019 Cherry Koshy (redfruit17 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2189935