Fortnightly Writing Competition: FOOD (Results)

[Baron]

The Fortnightly Writing Competition: Started in 1987 by Philip J. Ponch on the old ARPANET, the FWC is a light-hearted writing competition based around a theme selected by the previous winner. Participants have two weeks to compose a short story of between 50 and 2000 words, and then we all vote and give feedback on the results. Any genre of entry is acceptable (ad copy, poetry, instruction manual - we've seen it all). In fact, those word limits are more what you might call guidelines...  The important thing is everyone gets to hone their writing skillz and enjoy a bit of amateur storytelling. 

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So who's ready to devour some good reads?  Our topic this fortnight is:

FOOD



Food is central to the human experience, which means I expect not to see a lot of ghost or rock stories this time around.   Food can be scarce or shared, tasty or vile, tempting or wholesome, distressing or comforting. Food runs through the heart of our societies, our family relationships, or daily grind. Food can sustain us and destroy us in equal measure - can you feel the dramatic tension yet?

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write a short story through the vector of food. It can be a mystery, a comedy, a tragedy, a dramady, a romantasy, a poetry, a spelling bee, or even a wannabe.  It can be a dusting of cinnamon atop a frothy latte or a sixteen ounce sirloin with three helpings of mashed-potatoes. Extra points if there are food related puns.    Extra extra points if MrColossal shows up and provides another instalment of Rutabaga the Adventure Chef. 

Deadline for submissions is Friday March 21, 2025, 11:59 pm Hawaii Daylight Time. Usually we are open to extensions on a per-case basis, but I caution you that extra time in the oven is usually not a good idea when baking is involved. 

Good luck to all participants!

[Sinitrena]

I'm about halfway done. Will I have any competition this round?

[Mandle]

I'm about halfway done. Will I have any competition this round?

Not from me, sorry... Unless it's a very brief thing I can bash out. Too busy with a few other writing commitments for the foreseeable future.

I always consider this my home, though.

[Baron]

I always consider this my home, though.

This reminds me of my dad's favourite line, whenever we kids would pester for him to buy us a snack on the road.

"We've got food at home!"

In light of the current theme and this being Mandle's writing home, it works.

Three more days, folks!  How many other chefs can we cram into this kitchen?

[Sinitrena]

April

Spoiler

Evelyn tiptoed down the stairs, her mother's tablet she wasn't supposed to have tucked under her arm. The video she wasn't supposed to watch had not yet turned dark, still showing the comments underneath she could not read yet, while she sneaked towards the kitchen. On the way she stopped, plugging the tablet back in in the living room. For a second, the screen that had just turned off blinked on again, but she did not see the traitorous video pop up again before the screen fully went to sleep.

After positioning the tablet exactly as her mom had left it in the evening, Evelyn sidled around the far too huge vase that had betrayed her before (by hurting her naked toe) and into the kitchen.

Turn on the light or leave it off?, she mused as her small, cold feet touched the glazed tiles of the kitchen floor. Her plan could only work if she were able to see. She didn't know exactly where the salt shaker stood in the cabinet. But turning on the light might be suspicious, it might shine up to the second floor, through the window to her parents' bedroom that was diagonally above the kitchen.

"Hgm." she mumbled, biting down on her lower lip, deep in thought. "Dodo? What do you think?" she whispered, talking to her stuffed animal upstairs.

"Just be careful. Don't get caught!" the dog whispered back in her head.

"Hmn."

For a moment, she just stood in the kitchen looking around. Her eyes had already adjusted some to the darkness. Just a little light, from the moon or the streetlamp in front of the window shone onto the clean kitchen top.

Evelyn went over to the cabinet and opened the door. She knew that the salt shaker was here, as well as the sugar can. And these were the things she needed, after all. But the door opened towards the kitchen window, blocking the little light there was. Again she bit down onto her lip, thinking deeply. One step, then two, she went over to the kitchen door and the light switch, but then she stopped again. It would blend her, she knew that. And she hated it. She hated it how the light pressed into her eyes in the morning when she had just woken up and had not yet had time to blink the sleep from her eyes.

And then, like lightening, an idea sprang into her mind: The refrigerator! There was a light in the fridge, wasn't there.

Slowly, she tiptoed over to it, pulling with all her might on the heavy door. It sucked for a second, sticking to the appliance where the seal held it shut, but then she pulled again and the door opened.

It slipped from her fingers, rushing towards the wall to the side of the fridge but she grabbed for it and she was fast. Just fast enough to catch it before it rattled the whole house. Carefully, she lead the door against the wall and let the light shine into the dark kitchen and towards the cabinet.

The salt shaker was mixed in with the other spices, pepper, oregano, cinnamon. Her mom had told her what the spices were once, taking one after the other little cans out of the cabinet and saying one weird name after the other. She couldn't read these names, and the cans were too similar to each other to really differentiate, but the salt shaker was different. It was not made of plastic but of glass, it was not opaque but clear.

There! She grabbed it into her tiny hands, the glass filling her whole palm, squishing it as hard as she could in her excitement.

Now, what did the video say? she wondered, trying to think back to the smiling faces and excited voices of the people on the screen.

Open the shaker and pour out the salt.

Okay, that was an easy instruction, right? But Evelyn hesitated. She didn't want to waste all this salt. Her mom always said that she shouldn't be wasteful.

Evelyn shook her head, turning the shaker this way and that in her hands. She couldn't decide, and, on second thought, she couldn't open the shaker either. She didn't know how. But she still needed the sugar as well, so she had time to think of the next steps in her plan while she searched.

For now, she set the shaker aside again, placing it on one of the lower shelves in the cabinet.

Fill the salt shaker with sugar, the next instruction in the video had been. No one will be able to tell!

So it looked similar, right? And sugar was a spice, right? So it should be in the same cabinet, right?

What else was there to do but to shake some of the spice from each of the plastic cans until she found one that looked just like salt?

Evelyn took the first can, opened it and turned it upside down. A little bit of brown powder drizzled from the top onto the counter top, leaving a tiny cloud of dust behind. Not that one! Evelyn thought excited for her reasoning skills and slightly disappointed because it was the wrong one.

The next one didn't offer any better results. The content had more of a greenish tint and didn't create any dust, but it was definitely not what she was looking for.

Another brown powder, more towards white than the first one followed and she put this can to the side as well.

Evelyn tried more cans than she could count and none of them seemed like the correct one. The counter top was filled with various spices by now, all mixed together, some filling the room with dust whenever Evelyn passed by and created a bit of wind, brushing more and more particles to the floor.

But she needed to find the sugar! The prank wouldn't work without sugar! It would be no fun! And her parents needed some fun! They didn't laugh nearly often enough. And the video had promised that this would be an amazing prank! A classic! Perfect for April Fools! And tomorrow was April Fools. And the video had promised the best ten pranks for April Fools Day!

Tears started to fill Evelyn's eyes as a child's panic started to creep into her mind. She had to get this right! She just had to!

And so she pulled one of the kitchen chair's over to the cabinet, brushing more and more lost spices onto the floor, to get to the higher shelves.

White! Yes! She pulled the package towards her, but it was so heavy and it slipped from her hands, tipping over and spilling powder all over the shelves. A giant cloud of dust encircled her little head, whitening her hair and drifting into her nose. It prickled. And she fought against the need to sneeze. And sneezed, once, twice, a third time, holding onto the back rest of the chair for dear life.

Quiet! Dodo whispered in her mind.

I'm trying! Evelyn whispered back once the sneezing had stopped.

And for a moment, everything stopped, while the dust cloud slowly settled on all the shelves in the cabinet. Evelyn waited for sounds from above, the traitorous opening and closing of a door, her father's heavy steps on the stairs, the one creaking one near the bottom. Even her breathing stopped for a second to better hear.

But all was silent. The only sensation was the dry powder on her tongue that was definitely not sugar. Sugar was supposed to taste sweet, this tasted like nothing but dust.

"Pickles!" she cursed, repeating her dad's favourite swear word.

She picked up the now half-empty package of flour and put it back on the shelf.

The next package then. She had to find the right one, she just had to!

And finally, finally, she had found the right one. White, crystalline, it tasted sweet when she put some on her tongue. The package had still been closed when she found it and she had to rip it open, spilling even more powder into the kitchen, but she had finally found what she was looking for.

"Yay!" she celebrated silently as she jumped from the chair, sweeping the last bits of spices from the counter.

The impact shook the whole kitchen, shaking the glasses and platen in the cupboard. Again, Evelyn stood stock-still, listening for any sound from above, not daring to breath even a little bit. Her plan had to work, it had to. Her parents argued all the time, but when the prank worked they would laugh, all of them together, and then all would be fine. Fun for the whole family! the video had said.

Now, she was so close to being done here. She only needed to figure out how to open the salt shaker now, dump out the salt and fill it with sugar and then her dad would put sugar on his hard-boiled egg in the morning and all would laugh and embrace each other and they would congratulate her on her clever prank.

Suddenly in a good mood, Evelyn's hands became so much stronger and she twisted the top of the salt shaker without any problems, opening it right up.

"Yay!" she celebrated again, already a couple of steps towards the sink where she intended to pour out the salt. But then she hesitated again, with the same thought as before. She didn't want to be wasteful. Her mom would be angry if she was wasteful and that might ruin the prank. But maybe she didn't need to pour out all of it, maybe she just needed to pour out enough to make room for the sugar, then her mom could not get angry.

Yes! That made the prank so much better, removing even the tiniest chance of failure.

She spilled some of the sugar, the opening in the paper package was just so uneven and the package itself, filled to the brim, just a bit too heavy for her. But enough sugar ended up in the salt shaker for Evelyn's satisfaction.

Wit every crystal that fell into the shaker, ten spilled over the edge, but she also got more and more excited with every single one. Soon, the salt shaker was full again and she only needed to screw on the cap again and put it back in the cabinet, then she could finally go to sleep and wait for the morning of April Fools Day.

And that is what she did. She put the salt shaker back in the cabinet, put the sugar, still trickling out of its ripped package right next to it, not remembering where it had come from, and then she tiptoed as fast as she could back up to her room where she slipped into bed and snuggled with her trusted dog Dodo.

*

Ellen was hardly awake. Her alarm had rung far too early, as it always did. Her alarm? - His. But Frank never stood up when it rang, she did. Technically, her alarm was set to a later time, technically, she needed to get to work later than him. Still, she stood up and went downstairs into the kitchen to put the kettle on and to boil the eggs, while he stayed in bed until she called up to him to get up.

The refrigerator stood open and an unavoidable sigh left Ellen's throat. For a moment she just stood in the door waiting for reality to change, but it didn't.

Evelyn had crept into the kitchen again, probably for a cup of milk or... It didn't matter why or what. It only mattered that she hadn't listened, again. And that she left the fridge door open, again. Ellen dreaded going over there, she dreaded checking if some of the food had already spoiled. Hopefully not, they couldn't afford it. But the leftover spinach might be a problem and the milk and... A thousand worrying thoughts raced through her mind while she inspected one food item after the other, deciding if a couple of hours at a less then optimal temperature would be a problem for it or not.

When she went over to the sink to set aside some of the leftovers, her slippers crunched on the ground. Ellen looked down. There was pepper mixed with chilly powder, cinnamon and nutmeg, a bit of sugar... under her feet.

"What has happened here?" she wondered, "An earthquake?" Why else would all these spices lie around here.

For a second, she looked curiously at the cabinet, wondering if it had fallen from the wall. And then apparently climbed itself up and secured itself again. She shook her head, she was not awake yet. But there was no doubt that a blanket of spices covered the blue tiles of the kitchen floor.

After another confused moment, Ellen went over to the cabinet, opening it with some trepidation while she, too, forgot about the open door of the fridge.

Nothing was in its place but everything was there. All the spices stood on the shelves, though not in alphabetical order as she liked to have it. A thin layer of flour had dusted every single can. The last sugar crystals still dripped down from the top shelf where the package was ripped open unceremoniously.

Mice? Ellen wondered, trying for some kind of logical explanation for this chaos. But that made just as little sense as the true explanation that knocked against the back of her mind. Evelyn! But why? What was she doing?

"Evelyn!" Ellen called. "Evelyn, come down here this instance!"

Ellen's high-pitched voice hardly carried through the house and it certainly didn't reach Evelyn in her sleep.

"Evelyn April Jones!" Ellen called again, then she stormed up the steps to her daughter's bedroom.

"Evelyn, what have you done? What were you thinking?" she asked, standing in the door as Evelyn slowly blinked her eyes open.

"Mom?" Evelyn mumbled into Dodo's fur. "Hgn?"

"What have you done?"

"Hgn?"

"Answer me, girl, what have you done last night?"

"Noth- nothing? Sleep?" Evelyn's lower lip started to vibrated at the tone of her mother's voice. She was angry, she was always so angry when she talked to her. Her brain needed a moment to adjust to waking up so suddenly, but then she remembered the prank. Her mom was so angry again, it just had to work. And that meant she couldn't tell her mom anything, not yet, at least. The prank had to be a surprise.

"Answer me, Evelyn!"

"I... I don't..." She stammered as tears welled up in her eyes.

Ellen threw up her hands. "Oh, whatever!" She sighed angrily. "We'll talk later. Get up, I need to prepare breakfast. Get up and don't dawdle."

*

Frank thundered down the stairs, letting his feet fall as heavy as possible onto the steps as he did every morning to wake the rest of the house. They were already awake, of course. Ellen had already prepared breakfast, but he thought it was fun. It brought a good atmosphere into the whole house.

The kitchen table was already set. Toasted bread lay in a basket next to the breakfast sausage on a plate, but most important, the already peeled boiled-egg stood in an eggcup right in front of his place seat, the salt shaker set in perfect reach for his hands. It was perfect, as always.

Frank passed by Evelyn standing in the door frame, planting a superficial kiss on her hair as he rushed into the kitchen. With a bright and loud smile, Frank set down at the table. "Good morning!" he called to Ellen, who just took the tea bag from the pitcher.

"Well, come on, love, sit down!" he called to Evelyn who hadn't moved since he had come down, "Come, let's have breakfast!"

Evelyn hesitated, but in the end she sat down opposite her father, not touching even a tiny piece of her bread. Instead, she was staring at her father, waiting for him to get the salt shaker.

But first, he poured himself a cup of tea and added the pill of artificial sweetener he preferred to real sugar, waiting for it to dissolve. Then, he drank while Evelyn's feet pounded nervously against the front legs of her chair.

And finally, he took the salt shaker and shook it over his egg. Small crystals fell from the nozzle. For Evelyn, it was as if she could follow each one individually with her eyes. Her mother's anger almost forgotten, she smiled brightly and waited for the inevitable laugh that would come from her dad's belly as soon as he tasted the sweet egg.

Frank was talking as the spoon moved to his mouth, but Evelyn did not hear his words, so focussed was she on the egg. And then it touched his lips, his tongue. For a moment, there was hesitant tension in the air.

"What...?" Frank said, taking another bite of the egg already in his mouth, then a third. "What the fuck?" he cursed, spitting the egg into a napkin.

"What is it?" Ellen asked.

"Sugar." Frank said, "this is sugar!"

"Sugar?"

Frank took the salt shaker and turned it upside down over his plate, shaking some more crystals from the glass container. Then he put the top of his finger into the white powder and liked it off.

"Sugar", he repeated, "there's sugar in the salt shaker!"

"What, that can't be." Ellen shook her head, "There wasn't yesterday, for sure."

"Taste it yourself!"

Ellen did just that, both ignoring their daughter that looked confused from one to the other. They did not notice that Evelyn was waiting for a reaction that was not about to come. But Ellen shook some of the powder onto her own plate and tasted it just like Frank had done.

"No, that's salt." she mused, then after another moment, "And sugar. What...?"

Both parents stared at each other for a while, trying to puzzle out something that just made no sense. Meanwhile, Evelyn's eyes constantly jumped from one to the other and her tiny hands crumpled her shirt again and again until she pulled it up to her face and started to chew the fabric, filling the cloth with slobber.

"Stop that!" Ellen suddenly said, and then, after a moment, "What did you do?"

Evelyn said nothing, biting harder into her shirt.

"Evelyn April, tell me what you've done? Why was there this mess in the kitchen this morning? Why is there sugar in the salt shaker?"

Evelyn's lip vibrated and tears welled in her eyes.

It was supposed to be a joke! It was supposed to be fun! They were supposed to laugh! The thoughts repeated over and over in her mind. And their answers screamed back at her. It wasn't fun! They didn't laugh! She was naughty. Again. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad girl!

"Jo...joke." Evelyn stammered, "Prank." She snuffled.

"This is no joke, girl!" Frank said, "How do you come up with stuff like that? And to mix the salt with the sugar, what were you thinking?"

"Didn't... didn't want to... want to waste..."

"Couldn't you at least put the salt back in its package before -"

What package? Evelyn did not understand. The video had said that she was supposed to pour the salt out. She had been considerate, she had made sure not to waste all this salt in the salt shaker, she had been careful. She had only put in a bit of sugar, not wasted the whole thing. She did not understand.

"You... you s'pposed to laugh." she snivelled, "'Video said you'll laugh!" Her voice became shrill as her parents stared down at her.

"Video? Did you take my tablet again, Evelyn?"

"Why can't you ever listen to your mother? Why do you always have to be so naughty?"

"I told you, this girl is a menace!"

Evelyn pulled the shirt over her head and cried.

[close]

[Baron]

One more day, folks. I want stories to devour this weekend! Who's gonna cook up some competition for Sini?

[Baron]

Feedback for Sinitrena:

Spoiler

This was a very poignant story that "grabs you in the feels," as the kids say. I really felt for Evelyn, trying to interpret the world through the eyes of a child. I'm reminded of the Great Vegetable Caper my friends and I pulled back when I was five, harvesting a bunch of vegetables from my mother's garden with the intention of selling them on the roadside. That ... did not end well. Evelyn's motivation was more noble than ours, her plan more thoughtful, which makes the calamity of the result even more tragic. I'm glad I was born before screens were ubiquitous: these days kids can get a warped sense of reality from them, and over-screened parents have less time and patience to deal with the consequences in their children. These screens are the cancer of our mental well-being, slowly rotting our greatest asset and turning it against us. 

[close]

I don't know whether to declare Sinitrena the winner by default or just lock up the shop behind me. This spring has felt like the FWC has tanked hard. Do we need to reconsider our format in order to attract today's youth?  More slangy buzz words? Longer deadlines? More sex appeal? Shorter word limits? More screens?!? I don't know. I feel like we had a good thing going here, but the vitality is slowly dripping away. Anyone have any thoughts to share?

[Mandle]

Maybe a round or five of flash fiction length entries only? Those are fun, and might attract more people with lots going on. Not at all a selfish request on my part... hehe.

[Sinitrena]

We're in a bit of a dry streak, but that happens from time to time. I agree a flash round might be a good idea. Declare me the winner and I'll come up with a topic tomorrow or the day after.

[Mandle]

Could even temporarily rename the contest to the FFFC (Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest), for a bit, to attract people who want to write but feel too intimidated or time-constrained to enter usually?

Looking back on my own experience, the first time I ever joined a round was for a 112-word story, as I thought I had left writing behind as a life-goal for many decades. But I thought: It's only 112 words. What's the harm? (the harm being that I am now closing in on finishing my first complete novel)

Hopefully, such a new acronym will not confuse too many folk from any Final Fantasy Football Clubs that might exist out there.

[Baron]

I hereby declare SINITRENA as the undisputed winner of this scrumptious competition! 

[Sinitrena]

Well, thank you!

Now come over to the next round for a quick story fix!