Short Story Collection

A red scarf

It was a cold winter's day. The rain poured relentlessly against the window, pitters and patters filling the house. The oven was making that comforting sound ovens do when heating up. The one that sounds like 'brrrrrrrrrr'. I had taken it upon myself to bake some cookies to surprise some friends I was meeting up with later in the day. What better to eat during winter than warm cookies and hot chocolate? I was excited to meet them, as it had been a while. Smiling at the thought, I pulled up my hair and pulled out my speaker. Starting my winter playlist I started upending my pantry for the ingredients needed. Flour, eggs, chocolate chips, the list goes on. Now where was my spatula? On a side note, I absolutely love spatulas. Especially the silicone ones. They're handy and helpful for almost everything, and it's so satisfying how perfectly clean it leaves the bowl. Ah! There it is.

Putting everything on the benchtop, I started to bake. The home was quiet except for the gentle sounds coming from the speaker and the pitter patter of rain. The gentle 'brrrrr' of the oven continued, and the glow of its light set the kitchen into a warm yellow. and I allowed myself to get caught up in the moment, just for a few minutes. Whisking and pouring, lining pans and pushing them in the oven. I was interrupted by a knock on the front door. Confused, I put down the tray of cheesecake cookies I had just taken out of the oven and took off my baking mitts. I wasn't expecting anyone.

I opened the door and saw a child. There, standing on my doorstep, was a child. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do. What does one do when a small child shows up on their doorstep on a rainy winter morning?

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I realised he was shivering.

'Come inside,' I said gently, my elder sister instincts kicking in as I ushered him inside the house. I told him to sit on the couch and he did, silently obeying my commands. I rushed to turn on the kettle, and got some blankets from the spare room.

'C'mere' I said, gesturing for him to stand up. I took of his soaking jacket and shoes, pulling off the blue bobble beanie and the most striking red scarf wrapped around his neck. I swaddled him in blankets and put his clothes to dry inside, then went to make some hot chocolate for him. I poured myself a hot tea, and poured the little boy a warm Milo. He was now walking around (or attempting to), still covered by thick layers of blankets, making him seem like a small fluffy monster. I stifled a laugh. I placed his Milo on the table and he eagerly ran (waddled?) towards it. After slurping it down, he looked up at me and pointed the cookies on the table.

'Can I please have some?' Surprised, I nodded.

He looked no older than 8 years old. He had messy blonde beanie-hair, and blue eyes. I wondered whose he was.

'So what's your name?' I asked the little boy. He didn't reply. He just looked at me and reached for another cookie. Sighing, I tried something else. 'Why are you here?'

'Hungry,' he mumbled through a mouth full of cookie. 'Your house smelled warm and cozy.'

Figures. Trays and trays of baked goods now lay upon my benchtop and the smell still lingered in the air. I probably wasn't going to get any further interrogating the kid so I asked if he wanted some toys. He looked up from his cookie feast and nodded quickly, so I grabbed him some toys.

After he was occupied building Lego cities, destroying them with giant dinosaurs, Buzz Lightyear saving the day and Woody secretly turning evil, plus who-knows-what's going on in his imagination, I pulled out my phone.

I shot off a quick text to my friends group chat, summarising my situation. The reactions were expected.

BESTIES FOREVER

WHAT?

Umm...girl what?

Isn't that kidnapping????

IDC WHERE R MY COOKIES >:(

IM COMING OVER

wait I'll come over

we're crashing save some cookies for us

Putting my phone back in my pocket, I sighed and stared at the kid. A stranger's kid. Was in my house. I was still processing it.

How do you look for a missing kid's owner, anyways?

'...'

You know what? It'll be fine. It's pretty hard to not notice your kid going missing. Soon enough a worried parent would be at my doorstep, and I could send him off. The sound of fake explosions and Lego clattering to the floor mixed with the gentle sound of the rain, and I returned to icing my cookies.