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My Country Kitchen

‘My oh my, I cannot believe I brought this place from my childhood. The country kitchen was like seeing a grandparent after years, old but still gold. Everything was left untouched by the original owners, from what the landlord told me they were pretty snobby and did not travel up north very much. There was a brief side of me that brought the landscape outside and wanted to do a modern reno, but do I dare touch this place? It has its very own charm to it. The creaky floors and the yellow stove all very complimentary. All I need now is a speaker and some Alan Jackson music to top it off.'

Written By: Atakan Elalmis 

Baking Blues

Glint of Light on a Broken Glass

'...To give her what she wanted he would have to also drag her into his darkness. He lacked a body to feel anything but he felt her pain as it seeped into the ground around her. He battled his decision should he finally give her a response? Will it really help her like she promised? Or will it drag her into the darkness like he feared it would. He felt her pain seeping deeper and deeper. Will she fall into the darkness anyways? He didn't want to disappoint her anymore so he fought with everything he could to give her what she wanted a final profound response. “don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”  as he put all his energy into these few words he felt himself fully fade into the darkness. He realised if he had responded or not, helped her or not, it wouldn't matter as his end is her beginning.'

An excerpt from "Glint of Light on a Broken Glass"

Written By: Emma Braney

'...Once we finished setting the dough onto the trays, and put the tray into the oven, the two of us would sit at the kitchen table. The afternoon sun beamed down on us, soaking us in its pleasant, soft warmth. Light music usually played in the background, accompanying the games we played with a deck of cards as we waited.


Suddenly, the loud ringing of the timer tore me from my daze, the memories of my mom still held deep within my memories. I wish I could go back. But I know I can’t, because memories are just that.. Memories. So here I stand, alone in my kitchen making cookies, following the same recipe exactly like we used to. It was simple enough, but today had been especially hard and I needed a bit of a pick-me-up, and this seemed like the only reliable outlet. However, there are some feelings you just can’t replace, and baking without her wasn’t the same. ...'

An excerpt from "Baking Blues"

Written By: Dylan Strickland

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