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Nana's Blue Ribbon Cake

Death by chocolate

By Mary DeanPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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Nana's Blue Ribbon Cake
Photo by David Holifield on Unsplash

Invitations had been sent out and all had already been rsvp'd. Nana Marylynn was beside herself with excitement. I got to spend every afternoon with my Nana as my single mother worked two jobs to support us and Nana happily kept watch of her one and only grandchild. In hindsight, it probably was not the most brilliant idea. My Nana, you see, had already begun to lose her mind. She would often wander her small house muttering to people that only she could see. I didn’t mind, in fact I often thought it was funny as I would talk to my imaginary friends too. But this week was different.

Nana seemed different, she had a lot more energy and rarely sat down to watch tv or work on her knitting. No, she bustled around the house cleaning and baking. Much to my dismay I was not allowed to taste anything she baked. “Oh no my little cream puff, those are not for you but for some of nanny’s dear old friends that will be here this weekend!” she would giggle then give me a spoon of the icing she’d bought from the store. By the time the weekend rolled around that old scarred buffet was filled with brightly colored sweets hand crafted by my nanny.

Saturday dawned bright and early as my mom woke me and started rushing me around. She was called in to work another shift and I was going to Nanny’s. That put an extra pep in my step because I knew this was my nana’s big day. I might get one of those pretty treats afterall! Nana was the undisputed blue ribbon winner at our local fair for the past five years running so it was a real treat when she baked. I raced around gathering my things and in the blink of an eye we were outside Nana's house knocking on the door.

I swear I could smell the scent of old women when the door pulled open, the soft baby powder perfume spilling out onto the porch. Scratchy voices flowed with it and we were ushered inside for the obligatory cheek squeezes and exclamations of how big I had grown. My mom quickly made her exit to get to work with a last reminder to me to be on my best behavior.

Nana ushered me into the living room and settled me on the couch in front of the tv to let me watch saturday morning cartoons. She returned to the dining room and served tea. I soon zoned out to the chattering as I got invested in my cartoons. That is until screams from five old ladies filled the small home. I raced into the dining room to see Nanny holding Beatrice’s arm above her head while she whacked her hard on the back. I don’t know what some of the others were doing as they panicked and paced frantically around the table before one finally thought to call 911. But by then Beatrice’s face was blue and she was bent over the table, her face almost pressed into the half eaten slice of chocolate cake sitting on the table in front of her. The sounds of Beatrice choking finally went silent and everyone seemed to calm down and return to their hour of socializing, that is until knocking at the door announced the arrival of the ambulance. But they were far too late. I watched from my corner of the sofa as they zipped Beatrice up in the black bag and carted her out the front door.

I admit after the excitement my gaze and mind slid back to that mound of chocolate still sitting on the table. Only one piece had been removed after all and it looks like Beatrice had been the only one to taste it. Surely Nana would let me have a piece now right? I quietly walked up to the table and started to reach for a plate only to have my hand sharply smacked. “Now cream puff, did you ask permission?” I clutched my stinging hand to my chest and looked up at my nana with a quivering bottom lip and big blue eyes filling with water as I stammered out, “No nana, sorry nana. May I have some chocolate please?” Nanny’s hand gently rubbed over my head before she filled a plate with some fruit and then drizzled some store bought chocolate and caramel over it, “There my dear, take that back into the living room and finish your cartoons while I see my friends out ok?” I nodded suddenly mollified by the sweet treats filling my plate, “Ok Nana!”

I was the epitome of the perfect grandchild as I kept myself entertained in the other room until all of Nana's friends were gone. I then watched Nana start cleaning up the dining room. She wore a big grin and I could hear the small cackles escaping her as she cleaned up the plate with the slice of chocolate cake on it and then cleaned up the smears of chocolate left behind on her best white linen tablecloth. “Don’t think you’ll be beating me at this year's county fair now will you Beatrice!” And oh how she laughed as she upended the rest of the chocolate cake right into the trash and once everything was cleaned and the trash taken out she settled down into her rocking chair and picked up her knitting.

The steady clacking of the needles soon had my eyes drooping and I curled into the corner of the couch and slept until my mom was shaking my shoulder to wake me. Her voice was almost frantic as my groggy eyes slowly opened. My tongue wet my lips and I could still taste the chocolate lingering on them from the fruit plate I had eaten. My mom’s eyes went wide and she jerked me up against her chest with a sobbing cry, “Annalise! Did you eat any of the chocolate cake?!” She asked me three more times before I could get my vocal cords to work, “No mama, I had fruit.” I was scared now, did mama think I had been bad? My answer seemed to calm her and she nodded, “Ok then, let's go home. I need to tell you something.” On the walk home my mom told me the police had shown up at her work and escorted her back to nana’s house where she was being arrested for murder.

Now once a year is all I get to visit my Nana and buy her a chocolate snack cake from the vending machine. I miss my time at nana’s house, her new one isn’t as much fun with all of the bars and solemn faces. I did learn, I don’t want to know what Nana’s special secret ingredient is for her winning chocolate cake.

fiction
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About the Creator

Mary Dean

Writing is something I've enjoyed since I was young. It is not something I've ever really shared with anyone until now. My other passion is animals. I am a certified therapy dog trainer and pet groomer in my other life.

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