Back in January, I entered a unique sort of writing contest—one judged by kids in the 8-12 year old age range! I submitted a Middle Grade piece of flash fiction, and apparently the kids liked it, because they awarded me an Honourable Mention. What a wonderful feeling!
Now, I am excited to share with you this silly, engaging, honourable-mention-winning bit of flash fiction that I've had hiding away in my writing portfolio for a while now. I do hope you enjoy it as much as those awesome kid judges obviously did!
Is Baking Cookies Usually So Hard?
Flash Fiction by Lilyana Page
Mum was out buying groceries when Lulita and I made the fateful decision. We were going to bake cookies for snack.
I set the oven to 350F while Lulita measured the flour, sugar, salt, chocolate chips, and baking powder. I got the eggs, butter, and milk. She whisked the dry stuff, I beat the wet ingredients and added them in. It looked kind of lumpy, but we figured that it would bake up alright.
"Indira, grab the cookie scoop for me, please."
Well, I hunted and hunted for that cookie scoop, because it wasn't in the drawer where it belonged. Lulita joined in, and we finally found it wedged between the fridge and the countertop.
I washed up the cookie scoop right quick, and just as we started to put globs of lumpy cookie dough on the sheet pan, a terrible racket began. Bang! Pop! Boom! Bang! Bang! Lulita screamed and ran for cover under the dining table. I ran and hid with her.
Lulita finally stopped screaming and said, "Indira, it's coming from the oven. What in heaven's name is in there?"
"I don't know," I said, beginning to laugh, "but we must look like fools sitting under here like this."
With one last bang, the noise stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
I crawled out from under the table and peered through the oven's glass front. "Oh, no!"
"What?" Lulita demanded.
"Eggs."
"You mean all that noise was just eggs?"
"Yes, but we're going to be hours cleaning this thing." I switched off the oven and opened the door to let the heat out.
Once the oven was cooled off, we attacked the baked on egg with spoons, forks, spatulas, anything we could think of. We ruined Mum's best whisk before Lulita came up with a better plan.
"Hey," she said, "We should just boil a big pot of water, stick it in the oven, and shut the door. It'll steam the egg off easy-peasy."
"Land sakes, Lulita, couldn't you've come up with this idea before we ruined Mum's best whisk?"
"No, that would've been too convenient." She grinned.
"You're probably right."
*****
The pot of hot water worked perfectly. Just in time, too. Mum walked in the door as we were finishing up.
" Sorry I took so long. I stopped at Mrs. Allen's to --" Mum's jaw dropped as she took in her kitchen.
"Hi, Mum."
"You didn’t!” Mum gasped, “I put those eggs in the oven to keep Robbie out of them. I never dreamt that you two would blow them up. Three dozen eggs. I can't believe it!"
"Well," I said, smiling sheepishly, "We might as well put the cookies in now."
When the cookies came out, they were flatter than pancakes. Mum said that we used too much butter. We never got snack, but we had a good laugh over it all at the dinner table, so I guess it was okay in the end.