A Meal to Die For

Mara closed the heavy wooden door quietly, the latch clicking softly into place. She almost breathed a sigh of relief but realized she hadn’t even looked to see what accompanied her in this room yet. Would it be another slumbering behemoth? Perhaps another angry skeleton? Her pulse quickened as she turned to face the new room.

Anxiety gave way to relief which transformed to joy in the blink of an eye. Mara almost gave in to the urge to hop up and down in excitement. The room was softly lit from a chandelier with tall beeswax candles. A long table of dark wood took up the very center of the room and sturdy square stools of matching wood lined the longer sides. Across the tabletop was the most magnificent feast Mara had ever seen. It was the only one she had seen, but it was almost exactly as she had always imagined the lords and ladies of the region dined.

She approached to soak in the sight before her in closer detail. A plump chicken rested on a platter, its crispy skin glistening as if just pulled from the oven. Small, bite-sized onions and potatoes surrounded the bird, looking as if they had been roasted alongside it. Crumbles of bread stuffing had fallen from the chicken amongst the vegetables, just waiting to be eaten. Honeyed carrots cut into thin coins were piled enticingly into an oblong serving dish. Perfectly golden-brown rolls the size of a man’s fist lay piled in a basket. They smelled like a hearty rye. A bowl of the freshest fruit; a small cruet of cider vinegar next to steamed greens; slices of pork pie with gravy. This was what heaven looked like.

The sheer number of choices made it hard to choose where to start, but only at first. At the far end of the table sat a silver stand topped by a cake glazed with a shining layer of dangerously dark chocolate ganache. A lighter colored ganache formed a checker pattern across the cake’s elegant surface. One could only hope that interior sported as much rich chocolate as the outside, but so far this room seemed to be as from a dream.

“Having sweets before dinner will sour your stomach and your appetite. Best have some real food,” Gram used to tell Mara when she asked for a cookie too close to a meal. Gram was probably right. She had been around much longer than anyone else in the village, after all. But Gram wasn’t here. Nobody was, and for all Mara knew this would be her last meal for a while. Why not have a treat?

Mara neared the cake stand and chose a spoon and a knife from the nearest table setting. She wasn’t sure if she planned on cutting a piece for herself or just digging into it with the spoon as though the whole thing was there for her. I’ll surprise myself.

The hunger and anticipation were so great that Mara almost didn’t notice a soft growl. Her head darted from side to side, searching the space for a threat. Nothing. Slowly she bent down to look under the table, anxiety burning bright as her face neared the table’s edge. The emptiness beneath the table did little to dissipate the building worry. Where? Mara stood straight and gave another glance around the room. Still nothing seemed the source of the growling, but she could still hear it. Maybe a trick of sound from another room?

When her eyes wandered back to the tabletop Mara found herself frozen in fear and confusion. The cake had split along the side to reveal a mouth between two layers. Chocolate chips formed rows of small teeth. The top edge of the split quivered like the lip of a wolf preparing to attack. The growling grew slightly in volume as the cake hopped forward off the stand and up to the edge of the table. The cake-thing snapped at Mara’s hands like a wild beast.

With a shriek Mara jumped back and stabbed down once, twice into the top of the ganache with the knife she still held, releasing the handle to leave the blade buried in her attacker. The angry cake roared like a small, delicious lion while shudders ran through its layers. Custard cream oozed from the stab wounds even after the culinary beast stopped moving. It was several tense minutes before both heart rate and breathing returned to normal, but the cake didn’t move the entire time.

With calm came the return of hunger, though Mara found herself no longer interested in dessert first. She eyed the chicken. It still looked as enticing as ever. A large step brought her back to the table’s edge. Mara picked a knife from another place setting and gripped it firmly, just in case the roasted chicken chose to fight back.