This isn't so much a short story as it is me really wanting to write about food. But I've always liked it. 

Appropriately titled "NOMNOMNOM".

It was a feast fit for a king.

Roast chickens sat plump in their trays, their meaty scents wafting into the air. Beside them were the steaks, dripping juices, surfaces cooked to tawny, red perfection. Farther down the table were the fruits. Plums as big as a grown man’s fist, as ripe and tart as a summer’s day and sparkling with dew; peaches that were filled with sweet nectar that called out to you with their tantalizing smells; cherries, sitting in rich-red bunches in a neat woven basket; pears that slipped through all shades of green, yellow and an earthy brown. Vegetables were there, too: crisp heads of lettuce that fluttered their brilliant green leaves; carrots, in clumps of perfect, straight orange; dark crimson beets that pulsed in the dim light of the hall. Eyes traveling further down the long, oaken table saw the baskets of bread there. They crackled under your hand when you squeezed them, the pocked surfaces full of fresh-baked delight. Pushed up next to them were the cheeses, as the two were meant to be eaten together. And oh! Did you ever see such cheeses! The soft, gentle cheese of the brie, the tangy veins of the blue cheese, the sharp bite of the cheddar, and the hard skin but surprising tastiness of the manchego.

If one were to move farther down that table of wonders, their eyes would catch upon the final meal-- desserts. And let me tell you, those rose in splendor. The pastries were exquisite, with creme-filled éclairs stacked in a tower of sweets; small jam tarts; flat sugar cookies, sharp and sweet spices baked into their crackling crusts; and little cinnamon rolls, iced with a drizzling vanilla frosting. The cakes were next to these, with every design one could think of. A particularly large lemon cake sat in the center, three layers tall and daintily frosted with a thick lemon-vanilla buttercream. There were also chocolate cakes, laced with dark, delicate swirls; a plump strawberry cake with fresh fruits dancing around its edges and speckling the bottom of the platter; and a fruitcake, which, contrary to popular belief, was fresh, soft and delicious. The custards and ice creams came next, a land of chilling delights. Each was hand-made by an artisan chef trained in the making of desserts such as these. The cold cream swirled into a perfect mountain on each. There were too many flavors to even begin to name, and a set of spoons beside each bowl allowed one to go about tasting each and every flavor.

Indeed, a feast for a king.

This is something I first copied from my brain onto a pile of Post-its and then scribbled down in a notebook based off of the line "I was a ten-year-old girl running from monsters, and the king took me in", which is a quote from our own Rae. So, I guess it's called The King Took Me In.

I hurtled around a corner, not bothering to wince at the scrape I got from the rough stone wall. The beast charged after me, alldarkness and fangs and glowing red eyes. Stereotypical, I knew, and I would have scoffed if I wasn't so busy running, but that didn't change the fact that it could, would, and was actively trying to kill me.

Breathless, I launched myself up over a fence and landed hard in an alley, but I dared not stop to properly regain my balance. Practically sobbing for air, I scrambled towards the only thing that might save me. This was extremely dangerous, but I sincerely didn't care, and if you think you would, just try sprinting three miles of old city in the middle of the night pursued by a pack of bloodthirsty monsters.

I raced away from the gate and towards where I knew from chasing rats there was a gap under the wall. Anyone else would be too big to fit through, and it was impossible to widen because of he metal around it. There are some advantages to being ten.

The only reason the gap was there was because no one had noticed the stone starting to crumble as the storms became ever more frequent, and the only reason I trusted the beasts couldn't follow me was because it was just the one weak stone, framed by the strongest metal alloy possible. Even the abominations hunting me wouldn't be able to dent it.

I dove for the hole and cut both my elbows and my knee in the process, but with some frantic squirming and the lucky aid of rainwater slickening the degrading stone, I slipped through the wall and into the palace.

I didn't stop there, though; although I wouldn't die immediately, or at least not in the jaws of the horrible creature I had left howling on the other side of the wall, the palace was by no means safe, and I needed a place to hide. 

Taking more caution now to keep my quick steps quiet, I scurried through extravagant rooms, down lengthy corridors and up elegant staircases until I found a promising area. The only problem was that all the doors were closed.

Checking to make sure no one was nearby, I stealthily approached the nearest door and lightly grasped the smooth, shining handle. 

Tshk!

I spun around, scouring the abandoned hallway with a panicked gaze. But all was dark, all was silent; nothing moved. I stood perfectly still for as long as I could bear to, then hurriedly turned back to the door. I turned the handle with little hesitation, pushed it open without a sound, and stepped through, looking over my shoulder.

And walked right into the king's chambers. 

The librarian sat at their desk, slightly bored, for it was just another day at Elderwood Library, in the small town of Elmere.

"Um... Excuse me... Could you tell me the year? Sorry if this is a strange question..." Said a voice.

"2017, why do you ask?" Answered the librarian, looking up from their book. They blinked taking in the sight before them. A young girl, with a green cloak stood at the desk, with twigs in her hair and dirt on her face.

"Erm... Well... Oh, I hadn't realized the time, I have to go!" The girl exclaimed, running out the door.

The librarian frowned. The people in Elmere were strange, but rarely ever that strange. The librarian shrugged and continued reading.

Meanwhile, the girl was running along the paved road, wondering how she even got in the library and why it was 2017. She came to the fork in the road, and ran to the forest. All she could remember was a flash of light then waking up in a strange place. She got caught up in her thoughts, and without looking where she was going, she slammed into something. Looking up, she saw an emerald green dragon. I'm hallucinating, she thought. Then, the dragon spoke.

"Hello, what brings you to Elmere Mountain?" The Dragon spoke with a raspy voice.

"I'm definitely hallucinating," she said, then realized she said it out loud.

"It's fine, many who run across me think the are hallucinating as well," the dragon smiled. "Come with me, I would like to introduce you to my companions."

"Don't dragons eat people?" She asked.

"Of course not," the dragon said.

They walked up the mountain, and soon came to a cave. The dragon walked in, followed by the girl. A hooded figure came up to them. 

"She is the one, I presume?" They said.

"Yes, I believe so." The dragon responded.

"Excellent."

The hooded figure motioned for them to follow. They came to a fire pit, a glowing orb hanging above it. The girl felt power radiating from it, and stepped forward. The orb rose, and flew to her outstretched arms. When she touched, it dissolved into a glowing dust.

"She is the one," the hooded figure said.

The girl turned, and expected to see them smiling at her, but they were looking above her, with from expressions.

"Take her to the library, she must return at once." The hooded figure commanded, walking briskly towards the entrance of the cave. "We will leave at sunrise." 

Ramblings from the notebook of writing prompts, #1

The House Made of Books

I pull one of the books out of the "wall."  It's more of a pile, really, but if you look closely, you can see thin boards of wood differenciating the rows and rows of books.  

The paint on this one is a brown-red, the color of iodine.  Or brick.  The white line running hrizontally down the center of the bridge suggests brick.  I dig into my pocket to find a penny, and start to scratch the paint off.

The first thing I see of the book is the name: The Cat Who Went Bananas.  It sounds like a book in my favorite murder mystery series.  I scratch off more to see the author: Lillian Jackson Braun.  That's the same person who wrote the other books!  This one must have been one that I hadn't read yet.

I open the book up to the first page, and am sucked into the story.  Literally.  

I stand in front of a sign, one that says "Moose County: Population 9000."  It almost looks abandoned, like it hasn't been touched or replaced in decades.  It's only then I realize I'm actually in the story.

I find the dirt road near the sign, and walk along it, seeing a small town in the distance.  An eerie feel, just like any good mystery should have.  I spot familiar landmarks, having read so many of the books and the descriptions so that I could almost see the buildings.  Among these, I spot the Goodwinter and Goodwinter, the Klingonshen manor, and the old apple barn.  "The Barn!" I suddenly realise.  I run up to the door and knock, hearing loud feline yowls coming from the animals on the other side.

~~~~

Get the references?  Try googling it.  The series is so good, I'd recommend it to anyone! 

This isn't my best short story...oh well. I was doing this writing prompt thing where you had to use the words: Crow, Bridge, Pebble, Fog, Orange, Wild Ivy, Trout, 16 and Candy Corn.

~~~~~~

Somewhere in the fog, and crow cawed. Even through the loud rushing of the waters below, I could hear it; like a lone wolf in the middle of a quiet night. Another spray of mist floated towrds me, making all the little stray hairs that my braids could not contain stick to my face. On this humid October day, it felt good. 

I swung my legs back and forth in the open air below me, and picked up a pebble that had somehow found it's way onto a log, overlooking a chasm 50 ft down. With a flick of my wrist, I sent the tiny stone into the depths below. Along side the churning of the river, I heard a trout make a splash.

I spread out my hands accros the log, my bridge to the other side of the forest, and felt the wild ivy that grew so profusely on it. The plant's star-shaped leaves were wet with the mist and fog of the river. 

I dug into my pants pocket, and drew out a handful of Aunt Mathilde's neverending supply of candy corn. I seriousy thought tht she was addicted to the stuff. She could'nt stop eating the orange candy year-round, and bought it in bulk from a special company. At other times in the year, just the thought of eating any made me physically ill. However, today was special. Today called for candy corn, because it was Halloween. My 16'th birthday. 

~~~~~~~ 

@Clouded Leopard- The title of your story made me laugh so hard! 

I wrote this based on a prompt on the Inkwell. It has undergone some editing since I last posted it, though.

Castle-owning Bunnies: A Strange Short Story

Nettle ran through the valley, pursued by the Baroness of Pringles and her famous, dreadful golf playing sheep. Through the rain, she could see the faint outlines of a castle not too far away. She ran toward it, as fast as she could, sheep getting closer.

When she reached she pounded on the door, screaming, “Let me in, please, let me in!”

The door swung open, and she stepped inside. She didn’t see anybody who could have opened it. She shut it, quick, and began exploring. The castle was drafty and old. In some places, the wall had disintegrated, and the rooms were exposed to the elements. In the banquet hall, there was a feast, but no one had touched the food. Don’t mind if I do, thought Nettle hungrily. She helped herself to a little bit of everything on the table. But even when she was done, the castle remained silent.

She chose a pretty room to sleep in, which contained a bed heaped with pillows and down comforters and soft flannel sheets to protect against the cold and a fire going in the fireplace. Oddly enough, on the walls were tapestries of bunnies doing heroic deeds.

In the morning as she was getting up, she heard a thump. Then another thump. “LET US OUT!” A booming voice said. Nettle ran to the other room across the hall and opened the door. “WE ARE THE MIGHTY BUNNIES OF THIS CASTLE! BOW BEFORE OUR AWESOMENESS!” The head bunny said.

“Um, no thank you?” Nettle said, surprised to find a cute fuzzy bunny talking, and even more so to find a bunny talking with such a loud voice..

“YOU DARE DEFY US? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE… TO BE COVERED IN CREAM CHEESE?!”

“Again, no thank you?” Nettle said, bowing as humbly and respectfully as she could.. “Also, how did you get stuck in that room?”

“WE LACK THE OPPOSABLE THUMBS NECESSARY TO OPEN DOORS.” The head bunny told her. “NOW, BEGONE!”

“Do I have to go? I mean, what if you get stuck in a closet again or something?”

“FINE. YOU WILL STAY AND SPIN CHEESE FOR US!”

Nettle sighed in frustration. “I don’t know how to spin cheese. I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.”

“THEN… WE DISAPPEAR! AND NO STUPID QUESTIONS ABOUT HOW WE DISAPPEAR, EITHER.”

The bunnies popped into thin air, leaving Nettle with her own castle.