Scented Memories
Vocal Community Microfiction Series - Feast
Anika gently smoothed the folded pages of her mother's recipe and got to work.
She heated the oil and tossed in the seeds. The scent of fennel, coriander and cumin quickly filled the kitchen. Anika stirred, easing into the memories - until the spices began to burn.
"Shit!" She threw in the peas and mashed potatoes then took the pan off the heat.
As Anika scraped the mixture into the store-bought pastry sheets she heard her mother laughing, "Why buy? Why not make yourself?"
Anika smiled. Sadly.
Store-bought would have to do.
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Thank you for lingering.
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More stories from Loryne Andawey and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Singer So Shy
She stood near the cold fireplace, watching the second-hand tick down to the hour. In another minute, the clock's bird would emerge and warble the hour. She reached up and touched the clock, tracing the gentle slope of the farmhouse roof, then trailing down the lilac strewn side, to the white fence framed dooryard. She wished she was there, where the air would smell of lilacs rather than smoke.
By Judah LoVato4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (11)
Nice one
This really touched me. There is a certain sting and melancholy here - remembering something so fondly and not being able to recreate it. 🥺❤️ Very well done ❤️
Splendid!!!💖💖💕
Beautiful story. Well done.
Your writing really brought me to the kitchen, I can smell the spices, even in this length of writing, I loved it 🥰
Ah, how many times have I thought, "I could make that," only to scrape it into the trash & open up a can?
Awww, poor Anika!
The disappointment when it doesn't turn out well is real. This is like me and my mum, except I'm the one telling mum to make it herself instead of buy 😁
Ah, you made me a little sad, and I love baking.
aww I love this one, Loryne!!
A parent’s criticism is ever-present. Very relatable . 💖