I recently wrote this in response to a challenge prompt that suggested we write a short story making the mundane suspenseful.
Here you go:
Time was almost up. I looked around frantically to make sure that I had assembled all that I needed, (and cleaned up what I could) because, if I didn’t, the outcome would be quite unpleasant. I went over the directions in my head repeatedly to ensure that I hadn’t forgotten anything. I was alone. There was nobody to ask for help. Thus, I had to make sure that it was all beyond perfect. There was no room for error, and time was quickly passing.
I heard a low rumble that sounded way too close for comfort, but I couldn’t figure out from where it was coming. I heard it again, only this time it was louder, almost as if it was right below me or (gasp) coming from inside me. I felt my heartbeat quicken, and my palms began to grow clammy. My eyes darted around, trying to find something upon which to focus to take my mind off the inevitable.
The suspense was palpable, and I caught a faint scent in the air. As my trepidations grew so did the aroma of what was imminent. I wrung my hands and licked my lips. I swallowed once. Twice. My throat felt uncomfortably dry.
I opened the microwave and voila…success. My cake was perfect. Lemon. Yummy. I knew I could do it!
“I wanted to buy a candle holder, but the store didn’t have one. So I got a cake.” ~ Mitch Hedberg