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Your Christmas cookies turned out great for once! There was no burning or dropping of the batter and now you have dozens of cookies just waiting to be eaten or given out as gifts. However, as you leave the cookies to cool and go about your business, the smell of gingerbread seems to follow you, no matter if you made gingerbread cookies or not. A strange feeling as though someone is watching you takes over and from time to time you swear that you can hear a strange little voice saying the same thing over and over. “You can’t catch me”. The feeling passes after a few hours, but it might be best to avoid gingerbread for the rest of the holiday season…just in case.
There was nothing more pleasing than the smell of freshly baked cookies, a fact that Mariposa knew all too well. Even the least popular flavors, like oatmeal raisin, were like sweet serenades to the nose when you walked through a kitchen or a bakery door. Mariposa herself was more partial to traditional favorites like buttery shortbread, chocolate chip, and snickerdoodle, but when it came to the holidays, all kinds of cookies were given their proper time and respect.
The cookies she was diligently making today were for a bake sale she'd signed up for at a local food bank. All the proceeds from the event were going to go toward feeding the hungry people of DC, but Mari had her sights set on another goal. She'd broken out her best recipes, bought only the finest ingredients she could find, and had her tablet bookmarked to the prettiest cookie decorating tutorial she'd ever seen. All of this effort would surely bring her exposure and, thus, customers in the new year. Plus, her new business cards were gorgeous, how could she not net a few big gigs with those? If she were lucky enough, next year her phone and email would be stuffed with orders and her name would be up there with all of the best bakers in DC. She could hardly keep herself from getting excited.
"Now, which batter should I start next?" She mused, swiping a finger against her tablet screen. She'd made a list of each cookie she'd wanted to make, including ones she'd never made before, and checked most of them off already. However, toward the bottom of the list, a certain kind had her wrinkling her nose.
Gingerbread, of course. Her least favorite cookie in the entire world. No matter how many times she'd tried it or where she'd gotten a sample from, her tongue always got a nasty aftertaste. It was somewhere between bitter-sour and too much cinnamon, like one of those gummy candies you get at Halloween but rolled in atomic-sour sugar. She couldn't understand how anyone could possibly enjoy it, but whenever she'd made a batch for someone else it was given just as much praise as any other. She couldn't wrap her head around it.
Sighing, she set her tablet back on it's holder and opened her spice cabinet. Despite how much she disliked this particular cookie, it was a best seller during the holidays. Not having a few bags of gingerbread to sell would look bad and, if she was going to drum up any business next year, she'd have to tough it out. She pulled each spice out with a grimace, checked the recipe, and paused.
"Huh? When did I get this?" She said, tilting the bag she'd pulled from the cabinet. A special gingerbread mix? She'd never buy something like this! ... Unless she'd thought ahead from last year, but even that was a stretch for her to believe. Weird.
She placed the mix on the counter and tapped the spices idly, before picking the mix up again to read the directions. Usually she was such a purist when it came to baking, only wanting to do everything from scratch and tweak it as she went along, but a mix like this could come in handy just this one time. After all, would people really be able to tell the difference between a special mix and a homemade cookie? Her gut screamed yes, but her hands told her to go for it as she tore into the package and poured it into a bowl.
All it needed was the addition of eggs, water, and a quick dash of oil, and once it was in the oven, Mari decided it was high time she started wrapping some of these cookies up for sale. Most of these bags could be mixed, with several of each kind in one neat little package, but there were some people who were very keen on getting their fix with one kind of special favorite. She, of all people, could understand that.
The plastic wrapping paper she'd gotten this year was very festive and sparkly, which would be more than enough to catch the attention of customers, but it wasn't complete without a matching glitter ribbon that she curled by hand. She knew that bake sales were fifty percent presentation and at least twenty-five percent customer service, but what it really came down to was taste in the end. You could doll your product up all you wanted, but if it wasn't tasty or baked right, the entire point was lost. With this in mind, she dropped twelve cookies into each bag and tied the ribbons with care.
She repeated the process over and over again until she'd gotten through half of the cookies and paused for a stretch.
"You can't catch me!"
"What was that?" She gasped, her eyes darting around the kitchen. There wasn't anyone here but her, but she was certain that she'd just heard a little voice behind her.
She craned her neck around the chair, her gaze eventually moving toward the oven. Oh, the gingerbread timer was just about ready to beep! She stood, grabbing her ovenmitts along the way, and pulled the tray out of the oven.
"... That's funny. I swore I made six of these little men." She said, counting each cookie out again. "I guess not? Hm."
Though visibly bothered by the mistake, she brushed it off and placed the tray down in an empty space by the stove top. She had other things to worry about than one missing gingerbread man. If she needed to make more, she could always make another batch from scratch.
However, an hour after sitting back down to work, Mariposa couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. It wasn't a very heavy feeling, but it was enough to have her looking over her shoulder and nervously chew her lip. She knew that there was no way that someone could actually be there, but the longer she tried to ignore it the more intense the feeling became. By the time she'd finished making the icing to decorate the gingerbread and gotten her space prepared, she swore she could feel little puffs of breath against the back of her neck.
"Calm down, Mari, we're safe." She assured herself, releasing the death grip she had on her icing bag. "We're a little overworked, that's all. Just get through icing these guys and go watch some TV while they dry. You can always bag them later."
She leaned over the wire rack where she'd laid the remaining cookies, applied a steady gentle pressure to the icing bag, and hovered over a gingerbread man.
"You can't catch me!"
"Ah!" She screamed, tossing the icing bag into the air and pressing herself against the wall. A glob of blue icing had shot straight out of the bag and somehow landed straight in her hair. The affected strands of hair now sat weighted against her forehead and bobbed with each breath she took. She stepped forward and grabbed a wooden spoon.
"Who's there? I know I heard you!" She said, striking her best fighting pose. "I'm warning you, I-I know how to fight!"
Whether or not that was the truth was of no matter, honestly. She was more than prepared to rip whatever this thing was the shreds regardless of how it was done. But, for now, the room remained quiet and eventually, Mari turned herself around.
"You can't catch me!"
"Really? Are you serious?" She shrieked, her hands slamming against the counter. "Okay, you know what? I'm just tired. This is all getting to my head. I know what to do."
She exited the kitchen and headed straight for her bedroom. Even though she knew the wire would be a hassle to have around her neck, putting her headphones on would distract her and, hopefully, drown out that annoying little voice. She'd just need to make sure to be careful and take a well deserved shower as soon as she was finished decorating.
"There, no more annoying voices!" She chimed, nudging her mp3 player into her sweater pocket and retrieving the icing bag. "Now, let's give these little dudes some pants!"
---
Later on, Mari would find herself amid a treasure trove of successfully bagged cookies and her hair freshly washed and toweled up in a bun. This was a bounty of hard work that anyone could be proud of! Now all she needed to do was get changed and find a way to get them safely to the sale! She'd be on the road to success in no time!
However, on her way back to her bedroom, a sudden crunching sound from underfoot caught her off guard. When she looked down, the remnants of an undecorated gingerbread man lay crushed against the ground, and a look of fear and disgust crossed her features.
"G-guess I caught you, huh?" She muttered, brushing her sock off and hurrying into her room. She'd clean the aftermath of that up later, if it was still there when she was ready to leave.
Word Count: 1501
