Ploughing into the bottom tier, she brought the mass of cake and fondant to her mouth. Handful after handful, with the gusto of Bruce Bogtrotter she stuffed the succulent sponge down her gullet. She collapsed onto the floor in a heap, her lilac dress swallowing her frame.
Exhausted from the pounds of cake consumed, she fell into a sweet fuelled slumber.
“Carina!!!!” Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the sight afore her. Her mother, her eldest sister in her Ivory gown, the remnants of the wedding cake spotted across the top-tight bridesmaid’s dress.
Thank you for this prompt, Miguel! I feel like creativity is an antidepressant, better than Prozac or whatever drugs they use now! Somehow it makes it easier to be creative when there’s an outside prompt, coming from someone else, rather than an idea which I come up with myself, I’m not sure why. Many Thanks!
“It was a simple piece of chocolate cake - maybe with ice cream - vanilla,” I said matter-of-factly. Kay argued peacefully, “No. No, it was cheesecake with strawberries”. ‘Dessert is dessert,’ I protested. “Perhaps, but I remember cheesecake. More precisely, the strawberries. Dessert tops off a meal. Nurtures your sweet tooth, right,” she added. Countering defiantly, I leaned forward, “Cheesecake really isn’t cake. It’s a dessert, but not really a cake. A cake of soap isn’t dessert either,” I protested.
I had coffee walnut, with coffee of course. She went for lemon drizzle and Lapsang souchong tea. The music playing was Roisin Murphy singing over a piano riff by Galt McDermott that I recognised as Coffee Cold. This was followed by Van Morrison singing Tupelo Honey, with its opening line about all the tea in China. I considered the synchronicity. The next track was “She’ll come back to me” by the band Cake.
I thought it would be a piece of cake... to recapture the joy from my last visit to my best friend Nancy in her nursing home, on the dementia ward. I went in… Nancy’s new roommate screamed at me, at the top of her lungs, from her bed (her dementia was talking.) She screamed, “You are fake!!!”, screamed “STOP SMILING!!!” My heart fled… backwards in time…to meeting Nancy when we were new adults…when life had seemed a cakewalk.
Carla never ate the cake. Despite this, she kept it like a jewel, well preserved in the fridge for five years. It's the only memory she has of the day Alan left her and her life, after getting out of the car and heading for the sea. When she opens the fridge, she always checks her cake, which is still frozen, like the old woman who looks in the mirror every day when she gets up to see the cake
I drove to the place where I last saw him. I had met him two months earlier. We had talked about family. No one cared about him anymore. That’s why he was where he was now. Homeless. Lonely. I made a special cake for him. What would I say to him? Would he be happy when he saw me? I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. I parked the car and started my walk. I found him. Happy Birthday!
“What was that?”, I thought, sitting up in bed with a jolt. I had distinctly heard a sound. Was it a floor board creaking, a door being shut? I slipped out of bed and tip-toed across the bedroom and out on to the landing. I could see a light from downstairs.
I headed down, following the light to the kitchen.
“Grandad?”
“Hmm?”, he mumbled, mouth filled with cake, brushing crumbs from his pyjamas.
Cake the cake
Greg approached Cheryl, smiling politely.
“Would you like some cake?” Cheryl chirped, already slicing.
“Cake?” Greg smirked. “You mean like… the band? Ha ha ha ha ha.”
Cheryl gripped the knife tightly. He was laughing at HER.
Omg I have to wonder how her sister the bride felt about this! 😂
(Referring to the comment by wordsinbloom)
Ploughing into the bottom tier, she brought the mass of cake and fondant to her mouth. Handful after handful, with the gusto of Bruce Bogtrotter she stuffed the succulent sponge down her gullet. She collapsed onto the floor in a heap, her lilac dress swallowing her frame.
Exhausted from the pounds of cake consumed, she fell into a sweet fuelled slumber.
“Carina!!!!” Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the sight afore her. Her mother, her eldest sister in her Ivory gown, the remnants of the wedding cake spotted across the top-tight bridesmaid’s dress.
Loved this!!!
Thank you for this prompt, Miguel! I feel like creativity is an antidepressant, better than Prozac or whatever drugs they use now! Somehow it makes it easier to be creative when there’s an outside prompt, coming from someone else, rather than an idea which I come up with myself, I’m not sure why. Many Thanks!
Anytime 😁
Good twist. I like to think that cake tasted rather metallic and would not make for good eating 😅
“It was a simple piece of chocolate cake - maybe with ice cream - vanilla,” I said matter-of-factly. Kay argued peacefully, “No. No, it was cheesecake with strawberries”. ‘Dessert is dessert,’ I protested. “Perhaps, but I remember cheesecake. More precisely, the strawberries. Dessert tops off a meal. Nurtures your sweet tooth, right,” she added. Countering defiantly, I leaned forward, “Cheesecake really isn’t cake. It’s a dessert, but not really a cake. A cake of soap isn’t dessert either,” I protested.
I had coffee walnut, with coffee of course. She went for lemon drizzle and Lapsang souchong tea. The music playing was Roisin Murphy singing over a piano riff by Galt McDermott that I recognised as Coffee Cold. This was followed by Van Morrison singing Tupelo Honey, with its opening line about all the tea in China. I considered the synchronicity. The next track was “She’ll come back to me” by the band Cake.
Coffee, tea and cake. Dead funny that.
I’m wondering if she had come back to you, or did come back to you, if there was synchronicity in that line, too? Love this!
Thank you Karen. Well, given that it’s fiction, you can assume a happy ending!
😍
Microdosing Prompt: Cake
I thought it would be a piece of cake... to recapture the joy from my last visit to my best friend Nancy in her nursing home, on the dementia ward. I went in… Nancy’s new roommate screamed at me, at the top of her lungs, from her bed (her dementia was talking.) She screamed, “You are fake!!!”, screamed “STOP SMILING!!!” My heart fled… backwards in time…to meeting Nancy when we were new adults…when life had seemed a cakewalk.
Miguel S. Microdosing- prompt, cake
Carla never ate the cake. Despite this, she kept it like a jewel, well preserved in the fridge for five years. It's the only memory she has of the day Alan left her and her life, after getting out of the car and heading for the sea. When she opens the fridge, she always checks her cake, which is still frozen, like the old woman who looks in the mirror every day when she gets up to see the cake
I have to say, this is one of the most fun Substacks I have ever encountered! Thank you for the opportunity to participate! :-)
Glad to have your here ❤️❤️
I drove to the place where I last saw him. I had met him two months earlier. We had talked about family. No one cared about him anymore. That’s why he was where he was now. Homeless. Lonely. I made a special cake for him. What would I say to him? Would he be happy when he saw me? I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. I parked the car and started my walk. I found him. Happy Birthday!
That is so sweet Matthew thank you for joining in !
“What was that?”, I thought, sitting up in bed with a jolt. I had distinctly heard a sound. Was it a floor board creaking, a door being shut? I slipped out of bed and tip-toed across the bedroom and out on to the landing. I could see a light from downstairs.
I headed down, following the light to the kitchen.
“Grandad?”
“Hmm?”, he mumbled, mouth filled with cake, brushing crumbs from his pyjamas.
“You’re supposed to be on a diet!”
Love it!
"...In Eldoria, cake, magic's
quintessence.
Grand torte,
crystal throbbing with
puissance, heart
of realm.
Gateaus, amulets bestowing dominion
o'er elements,
stratum
mending or
bewitching.
Vermilion moon eve,
young mage questing
storied chiffon,
ineffable might.
'Midst ruins primeval,
unveiling not merely
potency,
but dread
behind Eldoria's
genesis...
αρχαία μυστικά."
I love the visual formatting of your contributions 🥰
If only I could figure out how to do formatting on Substack on computers, phones, iPads. It is a poets, worse nightmare
Say whattt!! The police will probably be after him though, if he escapes and he wasn't innocent which sucks.
He might have only been in for stealing cakes
I doubt it. If he was he couldn't have been sentenced to a super long jail time. He will just get even more in trouble for running away.
Yes, that was a joke actually :)
My bad! I like to be through in my deductions so I had to respond.
That is the life of crime ain’t it 😏