Sylar's Recipe - 1/12 - 282 Words

Sklar wants to impress her family with a new recipe - a recipe for disaster.

Skylar's Recipe

          I stood in my aunt's kitchen; apron tied like a knight gearing up for battle. Tonight's quest? To impress my entire family with a homemade Cajun chicken ouff--a recipe I'd copied down from the fancy cookbook at my friend Maya's place.

          Or so I thought.

          I'd been scribbling notes while Maya blasted K-pop at full volume. The pages fluttered. I didn't notice. I thought I was writing down spices and roux ratios. Instead, I jotted down "Ritual of Banishment: For Unwanted Spirits."

          Back home, I followed the steps with chef-level confidence: sauté onions, thyme, a splash of wine... then added "three pinches of graveyard dust (crushed oregano, I assumed)." Baked it with "intentional eye contact" (I stared into the oven as it owed me money).

          The family sat down, forks poised.

          Dad took the first bite. Chewed. Frowned. "Skylar... this tastes like regret and mildew."

          Then the lights flickered.

          A cold draft swept through the kitchen--windows were closed. The dog howled, then backed into the corner, growling at nothing.

          Mom dropped her fork. "Did the stew... just glow?"

          Just then, a voice, low and gravelly, seemed to rise from the serving dish. It wasn't the oven fan.

          "You aren't welcome here."

          Silence.

          Then my little brother yelled, "THE FOOD'S HAUNTED!"

          Panic erupted. Dad grabbed holy water (okay, it was kombucha). Mom threw salt (the table shaker). I stood frozen, rereading the recipe. My blood turned into ice water.

          "Guys," I whispered, "I think I made spirit repellent... for us."

          The air cleared. The lights stabilized.

          "Well," Dad said, wiping his brow, "best takeout pizza party we never had."

          I burned the recipe. And Maya's K-pop playlist. Just in case.

Word Count: 282