Tuesday, March 11, 2008

(FICTION) FRIDAY followed by SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS

'
This week we have been asked to write on our characters relationship with an animal.
.
The Kitten
.
She spent hour upon hour in her room. Just a few well-worn toys and a scattering of books for company. Whilst other eight year olds played outside, she curled up on her bed, hands pressed hard against her ears to blot out the sound of other children having fun. Hers was a dark lonely secret world.

.
One day a tiny kitten leapt up onto her window ledge, squeezed through a gap and jumped down onto her pillow. The soft purring was the most comforting sound she had heard for years. The kitten snuggled up to her and for the first time in ages she drifted into a deep sleep.
.
When she awoke the kitten was gone. It had been the nearest thing she had felt to happiness for many a long year.
'
The next day it appeared again, and the next and the next and the next.
.
Each morning and every night when the shadowy figure of her evil tormentor crept through her door she tried blotting out those terrible moments by imagining she was playing with her kitten in the garden.
'
At last she had a friendly ear to confide in. She could whisper about her deepest fears and the life of misery she endured. And she knew it would go no further.
.
That sweet innocent ball of fur was the only friend she had in the world.
'
.
Sunday Scribblings has this week invited us to write on a subject from the back catalogue of prompts. I’ve chosen In the Kitchen’

In the kitchen I am King! King of all I survey. The kitchen is my empire, my territory, my domain.
.
I spend hour upon hour in the kitchen. Once I change into my pristine white uniform I am top dog, master and mentor.
.
People come and go. Butchers, greengrocers, fishmongers and poachers. In the kitchen I conduct my business, I weal and deal, I pass cash under the counter!
.
I have helpers in the kitchen. Some cook, some clean, some peel and chop, and one washes the pots.
.
The kitchen is my consulting room, my advice centre, my surgery. I witness teenage angst, I advise on relationships, I stick blue plasters on cuts and gashes and I proffer a friendly ear to lost souls who have nowhere else to turn.
.
The kitchen is my studio, my workshop and my laboratory. There I design, experiment, create and sometimes caramelise! Ok, burn. In the kitchen I am surrounded by cookery books, hastily written recipes and copies of old menus.
'
The kitchen is where I receive orders from my hungry customers. Waitresses bring me little pieces of paper containing their orders. Some scribbled, some wordy and many illegible.
'
In minutes the kitchen table is groaning with platters of steaming food, each one a product of my passion for all things gastronomic.
'
At the end of service, I stand back, look around and tell myself how lucky I am to work in the kitchen.
.
Then I close the door behind me, and with the sound of the day still ringing in my ears, I thank God it’s all over until tomorrow when I’ll have to bloody well do it all over again!
'
For my second Sunday Scribble click here

26 comments:

  1. Everyone needs a friend to listen to. Great story.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I see I'm going to have to buy Kleenex stock. Lovely, heartbreaking story.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ` That's so sad!!! Good thing kittens are so nice!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh what a cute surprise for that poor child. Psst it was our new kitten mistyc I sent to her.

    ReplyDelete
  5. awwww, so cute.

    Btw, I love your video message, it's so nice to hear your voice. You know I'll have to do one now!!!

    ReplyDelete
  6. The little girl and the kitten gave me chills.
    I would have much prefered she was in that room due to an illness. The reason she was makes me cringe.

    ReplyDelete
  7. The real work never ends... I enjoyed this. ;)

    ReplyDelete
  8. "The kitchen is my consulting room, my advice centre, my surgery. I witness teenage angst, I advise on relationships..." This was my favorite part, for some reason, it warmed my heart. I'll remember these words when things get to mundane, and I feel overworked in my kitchen.

    ReplyDelete
  9. You got me with the kitchen one, so true, you have to have done it to get it! Ohhh the stories we could compare ;) Scrumptious description!

    ReplyDelete
  10. That story is so very sweet. Children need reassurance from anywhere they can get.

    I like your kitchen post too!

    animal instinct

    ReplyDelete
  11. Kittens can be the best friends ever! As for kitchens, they really can be places where the real business of life occurs.

    ReplyDelete
  12. 'the shadowy figure of her evil tormentor'!!! Holy Cow Keith... just rip my heart out, why don't you?
    That brought to mind so many awful news stories.
    On a much lighter note... Your Kitchen! I love it. It makes sense to me that that is where you spend your days. I have always associated love, home, warmth and good times with the kitchen

    ReplyDelete
  13. What a heartbreakingly sad story, the hands over her ears really got to me since my own daughter has sensory issues and often puts her fingers in her ears to block out the noise.

    ReplyDelete
  14. The first was touching; very good. The second, you got it so right. One of my sons is a chef.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Enjoyed how your two postings swept from sensitive, quiet drama to the raucous fanfare of kitchen gusto!

    Refreshing contrasts!

    Gemma

    ReplyDelete
  16. "and sometimes caramelise" I loved that :)

    I'm so glad you're happy in the kitchen; make sure you send me some meals through the mail some time...I agree that it gets very repetitive day after day...

    ReplyDelete
  17. a chef who is actually happy to be in the kitchen is a rarity ,, after 30 years in the restaurant industry i can honestly say i have known but two... it is good to hear you are in live with being there,, i know it must be a pleasure to serve on the other side of your line.....

    ReplyDelete
  18. Sounds like your kitchen is a smorgasborg and you managed two prompts in one. Clever.

    ReplyDelete
  19. Your kitchen works is like a well-choreographed dance! Fun read!

    ReplyDelete
  20. The kitten story is chilling. It starts out all sweet and innocent, I thought she was sick, and then wham, you introduce her captor. Well done.

    ReplyDelete
  21. I agree with chefdruck. Nicely done.

    Thanks for stopping by my FF; glad you liked the zoo poem.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Ohhh...u've done it again...a sad story followed by an uplifting one...

    the first one was so chilling, so sad....its true, that's what makes it hit you hard

    your kitchen seems warm and homely...nice read....

    ReplyDelete
  23. the images you created with your kitchen post were vivid . I felt like i was there. bravo!

    ReplyDelete
  24. Love your kitchen scene. I cannot imagine that and have wondered how restaurants manage to have food on hand for a multitude of orders. Neat post - I like your conversational style!

    ReplyDelete
  25. Delightful SS post. Love the thought of being a master in the kitchen.

    ReplyDelete
  26. Keith, you're the second one on FF to sucker punch me with a dark twist so far! Like so many others, I thought perhaps the little girl was ill, maybe it was some kind of illness that meant sunlight burned her, or that her bones broke easily.

    Even just as I read the line about the evil tormentor I wondered how a kitten could be considered evil, when it brought her happiness. Then I realised. Good twist.

    ReplyDelete