A Thriller Story: FRESH OUT OF THE OVEN

Jeffrey stared at the almost-empty cash register as he was about to close the accounts for a day. "It's amazing how people can ditch our talk-of-the-town cupcake overnight for some silly franchised doughnuts!'' Jane complained, staring at the unsold dainty cupcakes neatly staked on the brass shelves. 

Jeffrey tried to comfort Jane, "Things won't be so bad after all. Tomorrow, we will be getting a cheque from Mrs. Johnson for her daughter's party- " and they hear a loud thud followed by a cry. The couple rushed to the back. 

Everything seemed normal, so they called it a day.

The couple were in early the next morning. It was their last, best shot to recover the business. The bills were already choking them and they were two months behind on their shop rent. They had even let their seventeen-year long serving kitchen helper go.

Jeffrey turned on the mixer while Jane stirred the fruit and nut soaking in wine. Suddenly, the mixer jammed the machine made a strange noise when Jeffrey tried to clear it with a long wooden spatula, a few strands of hair and a torn piece of  cloth emerged on the surface and gestured Jane to come over.

It was a boy who was barely five or six, laying dead in the chocolate cake batter. He was already partially blended. The couple stared at each other, dumbfounded. After a moment's consideration, they agreed to put moral judgements aside and proceed with the baking. Jane convinced him, ''What they don't know won't hurt them."

The next morning, the phone was ringing off the hook. Compliments and new orders were pouring in until finally, Mrs Johnson walked in with a contented smile, ''People are raving about your nutty, chocolate cake."

The couple then realized that they needed to add their "special ingredient" to make extra bucks. Jeffrey would kill the victim and Jane would bake the mix. Day by day, Jeffrey lost his morals and ruthlessly became a cold-blooded killer.

On the night of Halloween, Jeffrey waited for a unsuspecting child to pass by in a corner at the back of the shop. The moment finally came and Jeffrey wasted no time in stabbing the poor child to death. He did not even take a moment to admire the adorable child in a oversized Pikachu costume with a hood covering his entire face.

"Here, this one was a little tough," Jeffrey said as he handed Jane the body. "Make sure you remove the access costume and hoodie, I'm off to bed now."

The next morning, as Jeffrey walked into the tiny shop, he heard loud wailing. He walked into the kitchen to find his wife weeping next to the body of the child Jeffrey killed the day before. Then he realized something. "It's all your fault! It's all your fault our son is dead! I'm reporting you!" Jane screamed. 

Jane and Jeffrey got into a huge fight. Jeffrey slightly pushed Jane but she tripped over the lifeless body of her son and fell towards the mixing pot, spinning with rage. Before she fell into the batter, she managed to grab Jeffrey's shirt and he fell in the mixing pot with her.

The news was all over the town the next day that the best-selling cupcake store was closed down because authorities found traces of the two bakers in the batter and their child lying dead on the ground. The detectives came to a conclusion that they must have committed suicide.

However, no one ever found out about the real story and the "special ingredient" that they used...

A Little Piece of Rasputin - A Short Story

Something was amiss. I felt my hair standing on ends and a peculiar tingling sensation all over my body. It felt like an electric pulse. In the background, I could her Ms. Stanford scolding, “Don’t touch that!” but she was too late, I had already done it. Her voice faded and I felt myself transported to a whole new place.

The relic was irresistible and placed in a clear, unsealed, glass casing. It belonged to Rasputin. I was tempted to touch it, and so I did. Little did I know that it was a horrible mistake to touch the reputed pendant of the evil, Russian monk.

I was in a dark place, being transported to someplace I did no know. I had a bushy, long moustache and beard and I was wearing all black. For a moment, I realized that I might had been Rasputin himself. Was I? I could hear two men speaking in a language which I could strangely understand; it was Russian. They were discussing something about a river and the sentries not being there.

The car was moving very fast and I was engulfed in excruciating pain all over. My stomach was twisting and I had trouble breathing. I could barely move with my body bundled up in a scruffy, itchy and dusty rug.

The car pulled over and the two men dragged me out and tossed me clumsily into the icy, cold river. The intense cold gripped me and I tried to swim afloat. My arms were stretched out and my eyes were tightly shut.

The next thing I knew, I was back in the museum, standing where I stood before the whole journey had begun. Ms. Stanford was standing beside me, looking crossed. I tried explaining, but she wouldn’t listen so I made her touch it too. From her expression and bodily movements, I could tell that she would no longer doubt when she returned.

On the school bus back home, Ms. Stanford sat next to me and whispered into my ear, “No one will believe us…”

Mount. Vesuvius - A Short Story

“Ouch!” I screamed when a small plank hit me hard on the head. I was confused and dizzy. I looked up… and that ‘s when I saw the majestic Mount. Vesuvius erupting. Thick plumes of smoke and sky-high fog was emitted from it’s core. I gaped in awe.

It fell like a deja vu since just a few minutes ago, Mr. Montgomery and I were staring at the painting down the school library hallway. It was surreal.

Here I was staring at it in real life. Mr. Montgomery was lying face down by a giant boulder. I ran to his side, calling out his name and I could not have been happier when I saw his fingers moving weakly. I helped him to his feet and by that time, we could see Vesuvius leaking tiny streams of lava. There was chaos all around; some were running with their precious belongings, some with their pets and some just looking delirious.

We started to dash in the opposite direction, away from Vesuvius who was now raging with fury. The air was densely laden with toxic fumes and we were choking and gasping for air at the same time. Mr. Montgomery had difficulty catching up with me. He gave an apologetic smile and mocked,” I shouldn’t have had that burrito for breakfast!”

When I looked back, hope was slipping away as the lava gathered speed and engulfed us. I prayed that it was just a bad dream and sealed shut my eyelids helplessly.

There was a blinding bright light and I bumped onto something hard. “Ouch!’ I screamed. When I came to, a pang of relief swept over me. We were back at school! My first instinct was to look for Vesuvius and a gentle smile flashed across my face when I saw it safely secured under the frame and back into the painting.

The Mysterious Creature

"Alex, come look at this mess!” I yelled out to him. He came running into the garden. I pointed at the green pieces of shed skin on the grass. It was all over the garden. 

At first, I was too afraid to go near it, but Alex was adventurous enough to take a few steps forward and kneel next to it. My thoughts wondered to all the extreme possibilities - what if it moved? what if it could talk or make sounds? It has only been three days since I brought it home from the morning fair. 

His hands were trembling but he was too curious to stay back. He stretched his hand and gently stroked its exterior. It instantly shriveled back. “Lets pour some water on it and see what happens!” he cried excitedly. I didn’t quite like the idea but there was no stopping Alex. My eyes were fixed on this strange thing. 

Alex came back with two big bottles of water and poured them right onto the creature. It let out a few purring sounds and nuzzled. It gently lifted its head from hiding and looked directly at us. I was petrified. My jaw hung loose in disbelief.  

I dashed into the house, ran up the stairs and stared pounding on my parents' room door. My dad flung open the door. “I didn’t like it when you bought it from the gypsy!” I blurted. I ignored the shocked expression on his face and marched into the room.

 As I had suspected, I saw the portrait hanging on the wall. It was just an empty canvas. The adorable creature that was painted on it was gone ... It was now alive in our garden, and we knew that some mystery was about to unfold…