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Blessing of the Gifted

The oven was glowing merrily as the smell of fresh spices and sugar filled the room. Her mother and father were away at a council meeting and she was rushing about like crazy to try and have everything ready for their return. A large roast was on the table, a few cooked vegetables and even fresh bread all covered to keep warm. The kitchen was a disaster area, flour and snippits of discarded food everywhere. She could make a good meal it seemed, but not without great sacrifice. Inside the oven were small spice cakes, dark in color and littered occasionally with bits of dried fruit. It was a recipe she knew was her mother's favorite, though she may have to rewrite the recipe since she spilled that egg on it. Still, as she heard the door open she felt her heart leap into her throat. She really, really hoped they'd like it. And she really hoped they'd ignore her covered in flour too.

Creative Memory

There was a boy she liked, and she had often heard it said that a gift made yourself was better than a gift you could buy. So here she was, wrists deep in glue, wood and glitter, desperately trying to make something worthy of him. She was trying to make a game board, though the game itself seemed beyond her grasp, the board looked simple enough. She adorned it with pieces of metal, or shards of precious stone she found and in the end it looked...alright. The edges were a little off, and it seemed a little less square than it should be, but she had worked so hard on it. She wasn't sure she could do any better even if she had unlimited time to do it. With a heavy sigh she set it on a shelf to dry and cure. It wasn't right, but it would have to do. Maybe it would look better in the morning.