I turned the prompt for an exercise from Writober called: Sensory Imagery  into  a flash fiction challenge. I might go back later and follow the directions because it looks like something I would like to build on. But what can I say, sometimes the Muses look at a prompt and say to me, ” you know what would be really cool? ” and I go with it.

amm

ARTIST UNKNOWN

I saw an open window.  It was in the empty house across the street from where I live.

I heard someone call down to me, one day as I walked by  ” why don’t you come up, I’m home. Come in. Step inside ”

I carried my jacket, I carried my purse, I carried a ready smile

I smelled oatmeal cookies  as I crossed the porch.  I rang the bell and then I went inside.

I followed the sound of water, dripping into  a pan, it plunked and sloshed and then drop by drop it died.

The crowded room, the only room that showed any sounds of life was the kitchen- it was painted yellow and  well stocked with cutlery and fine bone china.

The slap of cupboard doors, crept through the air and slithered into my ear. The frosty breath said, ” Come a little closer, step inside. Have some cookies, my dear.”

I tasted those cookies before I took a bite, I couldn’t wait to get them in my mouth

The heat of my cheeks, turned my pale face an unnatural shade of red, I drooled.

I witness, I swear on stack of McCalls Best Cookies for Halloween cook books that when

I touch, I taste oatmeal cookies when I feast in this house and other’s like it. No matter what I find, no matter what  consume.

I taste cookies.