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’Spice’
It stood there on the dusty shelf of the charity shop, it’s elegant wooden sides stretching and curving upwards to be capped with a small gold seal. Brian plucked the item from the shelf and examined it carefully, his glasses tipped purposely to the end of his nose. He stroked his chin, deep in thought before making a decision on the item and marching to the till with it. “That’s a very unusual item isn’t it?” the assistant said in a pleasant tone. “Yes” Brian retorted, “The wife loves curiosities like this, it will make for a nice little gift I think.”
“Oooh” the assistant cooed, “I wish I had a prince charming like you, buying me gifts.” Brian nodded nervously before paying for the old pepper mill and leaving the shop to clamber into his estate car parked close by.
Roaring down the country roads to the large house he and his wife occupied, Brian thought of how to present the new gift to his wife. He thought of leaving it in the middle of the table in place of their old worn-out pepper mill but that wouldn’t give the desired amount of excitement he wanted. After all, he loved exciting Mary. Brian pulled the car into the gravel driveway of his home, took the old mill from the dashboard and took it inside. He sat at the kitchen table with the mill and examined it curiously like an antiques dealer pawing a particularly valuable piece of china. He caressed the wooden sides of the mill and unscrewed the top with the small golden screw. Inside the mill was full of a ashy black powder, the likes of which he had never seen before. “It must be some sort of oriental spice!” he exclaimed out loud – he knew how much Mary loved her spices. Then an idea landed in Brian’s mind. He would cook Mary’s favourite dish, spaghetti bolognaise, and add the spice into the sauce – being the connoisseur of taste that’s she is, she would ask ‘what’s that new spice you’ve added Brian dear?’ and then he could spring upon her the surprise of the old mill he has procured from the charity shop. He began heating the sauce in the saucepan and ground a healthy amount of the black powder in with the sauce, stirring it gently to blend in with the tomato and bolognaise. Mary would be home in about ten minutes and he wanted it to be ready for her then. Brian dropped the spaghetti into the boiling water and busied himself with setting the table, uncorking the wine and lighting a few candles for his wife.
Mary stepped through the door to see her favourite meal set out for her on the table, a glass of sparkling white wine in a tall glass and her doting husband smiling at her across the candle lit room. “This is beautiful!” Mary gasped, “You’re still a sweetheart, after all these years!” She shed her coat and sat down at the table, her eyes gazing lovingly at her husband. Brian was filled with anticipation, hoping Mary would notice the new ingredient and give him a chance to present her with the new gift. First she lifted the glass of wine and took a sip to moisten her palette, as she always did, and she held her fork in one hand and spoon in the other and began delicately twisting the long strips of pasta around the fork. “Mmm!” she cried, “This is delicious dear. What is that new flavour I taste?”
A smile spread across Brian’s face and he stood up from the table to fetch the old mill he had hidden in the breadbin so Mary wouldn’t notice it on her way in. He turned around, old mill in hand, and shouted “Surprise!” only to see Mary, face down, in her spaghetti bolognaise. He dropped the old mill on the kitchen floor and ran over to her. He held two fingers against her neck but found no pulse. Instinct took over and he grabbed the phone, dialled 999, and wept down the phone to the operator. “There’s an ambulance on it’s way” she said, “Try to stay calm sir.” Brian lifted Mary out of her dinner and wiped the sauce from her face and waited in the driveway for the ambulance to arrive. After around 5 minutes the blue sirens illuminated the front of the house and paramedics leapt out of the vehicle to tend to Mary. After a few minutes a young fresh-faced paramedic approached Brian and with his eyes fixed to the floor said in a solemn tone, “I’m sorry sir, your wife is dead.” Brian broke down in tears and dropped to his knees on the gravel driveway.
The next few weeks were hard for Brian, he arranged a funeral for Mary, he had a wreath of lilies put on her coffin, they were always her favourites. He contacted the bank, the life insurance company and her coffee morning circle, who became the coffee morning mourning circle, to let them know about Mary’s untimely demise. The official death certificate said Mary’s cause of death was an allergic reaction and that it must have been something she had eaten. They had been married 34 years and the only allergy he knew Mary had was to cats, she couldn’t stand to be around them as much as she loved animals. The hairs would make he sneeze and splutter and her throat would swell up like a balloon. It struck Brian that perhaps the spice from the old pepper mill he had added to her meal had been something she was unwittingly allergic to. He picked up the old mill, that had been resting on the kitchen windowsill since the incident, and examined it carefully to see if there was any indication to what was inside the hollow wooden oddity. He noticed on the bottom of the mill, where ordinarily there would have been a grate for grinding the peppers, there was a few words engraved into the wood. Brian removed his glasses from the top pocket of his shirt and placed them carefully on the end of his nose. He read aloud, “The ashes of Tiddles, the best cat in the world. 1992 – 1997.”
It stood there on the dusty shelf of the charity shop, it’s elegant wooden sides stretching and curving upwards to be capped with a small gold seal. Brian plucked the item from the shelf and examined it carefully, his glasses tipped purposely to the end of his nose. He stroked his chin, deep in thought before making a decision on the item and marching to the till with it. “That’s a very unusual item isn’t it?” the assistant said in a pleasant tone. “Yes” Brian retorted, “The wife loves curiosities like this, it will make for a nice little gift I think.”
“Oooh” the assistant cooed, “I wish I had a prince charming like you, buying me gifts.” Brian nodded nervously before paying for the old pepper mill and leaving the shop to clamber into his estate car parked close by.
Roaring down the country roads to the large house he and his wife occupied, Brian thought of how to present the new gift to his wife. He thought of leaving it in the middle of the table in place of their old worn-out pepper mill but that wouldn’t give the desired amount of excitement he wanted. After all, he loved exciting Mary. Brian pulled the car into the gravel driveway of his home, took the old mill from the dashboard and took it inside. He sat at the kitchen table with the mill and examined it curiously like an antiques dealer pawing a particularly valuable piece of china. He caressed the wooden sides of the mill and unscrewed the top with the small golden screw. Inside the mill was full of a ashy black powder, the likes of which he had never seen before. “It must be some sort of oriental spice!” he exclaimed out loud – he knew how much Mary loved her spices. Then an idea landed in Brian’s mind. He would cook Mary’s favourite dish, spaghetti bolognaise, and add the spice into the sauce – being the connoisseur of taste that’s she is, she would ask ‘what’s that new spice you’ve added Brian dear?’ and then he could spring upon her the surprise of the old mill he has procured from the charity shop. He began heating the sauce in the saucepan and ground a healthy amount of the black powder in with the sauce, stirring it gently to blend in with the tomato and bolognaise. Mary would be home in about ten minutes and he wanted it to be ready for her then. Brian dropped the spaghetti into the boiling water and busied himself with setting the table, uncorking the wine and lighting a few candles for his wife.
Mary stepped through the door to see her favourite meal set out for her on the table, a glass of sparkling white wine in a tall glass and her doting husband smiling at her across the candle lit room. “This is beautiful!” Mary gasped, “You’re still a sweetheart, after all these years!” She shed her coat and sat down at the table, her eyes gazing lovingly at her husband. Brian was filled with anticipation, hoping Mary would notice the new ingredient and give him a chance to present her with the new gift. First she lifted the glass of wine and took a sip to moisten her palette, as she always did, and she held her fork in one hand and spoon in the other and began delicately twisting the long strips of pasta around the fork. “Mmm!” she cried, “This is delicious dear. What is that new flavour I taste?”
A smile spread across Brian’s face and he stood up from the table to fetch the old mill he had hidden in the breadbin so Mary wouldn’t notice it on her way in. He turned around, old mill in hand, and shouted “Surprise!” only to see Mary, face down, in her spaghetti bolognaise. He dropped the old mill on the kitchen floor and ran over to her. He held two fingers against her neck but found no pulse. Instinct took over and he grabbed the phone, dialled 999, and wept down the phone to the operator. “There’s an ambulance on it’s way” she said, “Try to stay calm sir.” Brian lifted Mary out of her dinner and wiped the sauce from her face and waited in the driveway for the ambulance to arrive. After around 5 minutes the blue sirens illuminated the front of the house and paramedics leapt out of the vehicle to tend to Mary. After a few minutes a young fresh-faced paramedic approached Brian and with his eyes fixed to the floor said in a solemn tone, “I’m sorry sir, your wife is dead.” Brian broke down in tears and dropped to his knees on the gravel driveway.
The next few weeks were hard for Brian, he arranged a funeral for Mary, he had a wreath of lilies put on her coffin, they were always her favourites. He contacted the bank, the life insurance company and her coffee morning circle, who became the coffee morning mourning circle, to let them know about Mary’s untimely demise. The official death certificate said Mary’s cause of death was an allergic reaction and that it must have been something she had eaten. They had been married 34 years and the only allergy he knew Mary had was to cats, she couldn’t stand to be around them as much as she loved animals. The hairs would make he sneeze and splutter and her throat would swell up like a balloon. It struck Brian that perhaps the spice from the old pepper mill he had added to her meal had been something she was unwittingly allergic to. He picked up the old mill, that had been resting on the kitchen windowsill since the incident, and examined it carefully to see if there was any indication to what was inside the hollow wooden oddity. He noticed on the bottom of the mill, where ordinarily there would have been a grate for grinding the peppers, there was a few words engraved into the wood. Brian removed his glasses from the top pocket of his shirt and placed them carefully on the end of his nose. He read aloud, “The ashes of Tiddles, the best cat in the world. 1992 – 1997.”
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Woah, I know this is old now but, Kyle.
This is superb.
This is superb.
Fantastic story, well told. Nice twist on the theme, and twists throughout the story. I was convinced that it would be poison, but the ashes and allergy was so much better. I also liked the coffee morning mourning line.
> the coffee morning mourning circle
Loved it. Better then your first entry. I'm pleased that after making suggestions for JT that I didn't waste my time and write one about a pepper mill :)
Loved it. Better then your first entry. I'm pleased that after making suggestions for JT that I didn't waste my time and write one about a pepper mill :)
Definately a fine piece. Excellent.
FinalFantasyFanatic wrote:
> Paradox: wrote:
> >After all, he loved exciting Mary.
>
> Yeah, baby.
Maybe I'll edit my wording there :-P
> Paradox: wrote:
> >After all, he loved exciting Mary.
>
> Yeah, baby.
Maybe I'll edit my wording there :-P
The cat was 5 when it died?
You callous fiend!
You callous fiend!
****spoilers****
Read story before replies! :-)
Hehe.
I knew that spice would be poisonous, but I thought that would be strange coming from a charity shop...
But who puts their cat's ashes in a charity shop either? :-D
Still great.
The best one I've seen so far. :-)
Read story before replies! :-)
Hehe.
I knew that spice would be poisonous, but I thought that would be strange coming from a charity shop...
But who puts their cat's ashes in a charity shop either? :-D
Still great.
The best one I've seen so far. :-)
Paradox: wrote:
>After all, he loved exciting Mary.
Yeah, baby.
>After all, he loved exciting Mary.
Yeah, baby.
Heh, that's a clever piece! I'm impressed :D
Brilliant! I think you should replace your old entry with this one, much better. Love the twist at the end. Nice one!
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