Nothing’s going to stop me from achieving the impossible, from defeating death. I will make this hybrid. And I will see this girl with my own eyes. I will create the next stage in human evolution!
“Perfection inside of a human body…”
Category: Other Works.
Nothing’s going to stop me from achieving the impossible, from defeating death. I will make this hybrid. And I will see this girl with my own eyes. I will create the next stage in human evolution!
“Perfection inside of a human body…”
The price for royalty is a high price to pay, however it does have its perks. Believe it or not, even royalty would like a break from the normal. Sometimes, in order to break away from the normal, they must hide among the those who follow them.
Being a queen who is constantly praised for her beauty quickly tires one out.
Ready to go, I sneak out of the hidden emergency exit behind my massive wardrobe.
Sometimes in life, thing’s don’t really turn out the way you want them to. When things get worse, you’ll have to make them go your way, just like I did.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Once we start talking about prices upstairs, there’s no turning back.”
“There is peace in silence…”
Rushing water pours down on my head. It has the strength to bring any man down to their knees, but I have trained myself to endure and withstand its power. My body is unwavering and motionless as the waves slide down around me, continuing its journey to the stream below.
“Silence is nature’s remedy for stress…”
Emptiness fills my mental walls, allowing me to forget anything and everything that would normally plague my train of thought. With a clear mind, I only focus on my natural surroundings; the water crashing on my head, the boulder that I perched myself on top of, and the light breezes that blows through the forest brush.
“Stress only blocks the path to true calmness and tranquility…”
I take in a deep breath and hold it in, letting the cool all flow through my warm lungs and back out. I repeat this process over and over until my body feels lighter than air itself. I may not be able to see it, but I can feel a small smile of relaxation appearing on my face. It’s a rare occurrence that I am able to complete an entire session of meditation in complete solitude, so this is more pleasing than usual.
As I’m sitting on the boulder, I can feel that my posture is slightly off, so I take a moment to adjust the alignment in my back; my new posture makes it even easier for the water to pour around me. The simple sound of rushing water is the main thing I hear, accompanied by a few chirping birds every so often. If I choose to, I could even hear the sound of individual water droplets as they fall into the stream.
Finding the perfect state of calmness makes even the most insignificant of things seem like the key to winning an ever-lasting war. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for me.
Perhaps reaching this state of calmness is starting to play tricks on my senses; I could have sworn I just heard a voice other than my own. However, I decide to ignore it and continue with my meditation.
“Sensei! Sensei, I know you can hear me so just give it up!”
That squeaky, girlish voice speaks again. I can even feel a disturbance in floating around in the stream below. My mind is not deceiving me; my prodigy is calling out to me. I let out a loud sigh and open my eyes so I can get a look at her swimming around.
“What is it, young one?” I ask in a light tone.
Holding a small glass of whiskey on the rocks, Richard looks down at the city nightlife from his living room. He leans on the glass a bit to get a better look at the sidewalk below him.
“What determines the worth of a man? The knowledge they ascertained through life, their morals and values that shape their views and lifestyle? The items that they surround themselves with?”
Richard takes a sip from his glass and looks back into the living room. Luxurious furnishings, all of which are covered in ivory white, expensive paintings and sculptures decorate the marble tile floors, a large flat screen television set up with full entertainment station; the living room of a wealthy man.
Richard walks over to one of his couches and sits back, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him. He puts his feet up on it and goes back to his personal discussion.
“If a man follows a code of conduct, or some kind of code of honor to go about his life, does that make them a valuable person to others? Does that increase their actual worth, how much it would cost you to obtain their services?”
Letting everything goes to his head, Richard gets a small migraine and rubs his eyes for a moment, “Damn it, I’m starting to sound like a philosophy major student.”
“Well, some people find philosophy not only to be sophisticated, but also attractive.”
A womanly voice gently speaks from behind Richard, followed by the sound of wet footsteps. When she approaches Richard from behind, she reaches over the back of the couch and wraps her water soaked arms around his neck.
“Personally, I find it boring and tiresome at time.”
“Then why do you have all of those books about Hobbes and Machiavelli in your personal study?”
“I read them to help me fall asleep sometimes. A girl does need her beauty sleep after all and what better way to fall asleep than to read about a guy rambling on about ‘human nature this’ and ‘human nature that?’”
Richard looks up and sees a blonde haired woman looking at him with a sarcastic smile on her face. Even though he’s seen her dozens of times, he always likes to take a moment to carefully look over every small detail of her peach, blemish-free face.
With a chuckle, Richard replies, “It’s hard to tell if all of that sleep is helping. You still have some bags under your eyes.”
“You ass,” the woman snares back. Although she gave an angry reaction, all she does is lightly pluck Richard on his nose and climbs over the couch, sitting next to him. “You’re lucky I care about you, or else I would have ripped you a new one.”
“Daddy, I don’t wanna go outside.”
Shena stands right in front of the door, throwing a tantrum. She put on her winter clothes, grabbed her jacket, and was ready to leave out that door. She even sat down to put on her snow boots, and now she says she doesn’t want to go out.
I lean down on one knee so I can get down to eye level with her, “Shena, you said you wanted to go play in the snow. Now you don’t want to?”
“Why don’t you want to go outside?”
“Because I don’t wanna go outside!”
But she was the one who wanted to go outside in the first place… I swear, I don’t understand this kid sometimes.
Acknowledging the situation now, I let out a sigh, drop my head forward, and gently pat my daughter on the head. I take a moment to collect my thoughts before beginning negotiations with this little girl, “We can’t have you cooped up here all day. The snow isn’t high at all and it’s fun to play it. Let’s just go out for a little while to go place, okay?”
She folds her little arms and turns her back to me, shouting out “NO!”
… Time to pull out my game changer tactic.
“I’ll give you chocolate milk when we come back into the house.”
Shena instantly turns back around and gives me the most serious face her seven year old face could possibly make, “How much?”
“One mug worth.”
“Two. And I want a vanilla creme cookie to dunk with it.”
“One mug and one cookie. And I’ll throw in a few mini marshmallows in the milk.”
She squints and I squint back at her. She points at me and I point back: our negotiations are reaching its end. I slowly extend my hand out, “So? We got a deal?”
“Don’t go back on your word, ‘Mister.’”
We shake and our agreement is sealed. All that’s left is to put everything into motion and endure the snow. I unlock the front door and slowly open it, giving way to a pure white scenery on our front lawn.
Everything from the curb of the street right up to the bottom of the small three steps that lead into the house is covered in fresh, untouched snow; it looks like somebody put a new silk blanket across the world.
Shena takes a deep breath and clenches her fists, taking the first ground-breaking step into our winter wonderland. She stops for a moment and turns back to me.
“What is it?”
“I’m done playing outside. I’m ready for cocoa milk now.”
“All you did was take a step outside!”
“Yeah, my foot had fun taking that step in the snow and I’m ready to go back inside.”
She turns right back around and walks past me into the house as if nothing happened, which nothing did happen. Taking just one step outside doesn’t count as playtime. And I know how to make sure everything goes my way.
“This doesn’t count as playtime. If you sit on that couch, you won’t get any chocolate milk and cookies.”
As soon as I finish that sentence, Shena comes sprinting out of the house and jumps face first into our snowy lawn. Next thing you know, she’s making snow angels like there’s no tomorrow all across the lawn, yelling out Christmas carols and songs during the entire thing.
“JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS! JINGLE ALL THE WAY!”
Now that’s playtime.
Laughter fills my lungs I try to catch my breath as I watch Shena rushing her body to try and have fun just for chocolate milk. But I did say that both of us would play, so I run back into the house to grab my coat before I join her in the snow angel madness.
Hiding around the corner, the last remaining sorceress could only look forward, keeping her eyes on the narrow hallway, I can’t go out like this! I’ve come so far and there’s no way I’m letting myself go out like this!
A place that was once the pinnacle of magical development and research, is now the last remaining line of defense from the infected that roam the city streets. The sorceress came to this building in search for the forbidden spell that could reverse all this, but It all seemed to be in vain; all she found throughout her search were just the bodies of once proud masters of all things mystical, now rotten corpses wandering the hallways.
The sorceress turns around and looks at the wall, running her hands along it in a frantic search, “C’mon, there has to be an invisible switch here! Hell, even a fake brick in the wall would be just fine, too!”
As her hands feel around for some kind of clue to being a fake wall, her fingers feel a faint breeze coming through from between two of the bricks. She tries to push the bricks in, and even tries to remove them, but they don’t budge.
“Come on, come on. There’s got to be something there. I can’t see it, but I know something has to be back there! In a fit of anger, she punches at the wall and takes a few steps back to get a better look of the entire wall from top to bottom. As her eyes scan the wall, something suddenly comes to thought.
“This is a magical building… What if I wasn’t suppose to see it with my natural sight…?”
She approaches the wall again and places her hand over where the breeze is coming from. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, uttering the words “Gaze of Light.” Upon opening her right eye, a small, purple aura floods out, enveloping her entire eye. Temporarily losing her natural eye sight, everything is outlined in a bright pink border. However, just on the other side of the wall, there’s a small, square shaped blue object resting on a podium.
“What is that? More importantly, how do I get it out? I don’t know any spells strong enough to blow this down.”
She knocks on the wall just to make sure it’s solid brick. She blinks and the purple aura around her eye fades. She runs through all of the spells in her mind that she can do without an issue, but none of them are really destructive in nature. At least, nothing that could make an explosion. As she’s going through her spells, a loud groaning sounds behind her.
She quickly turns around and sees the deceased corpse staggering down the hallway. All of the physical attributes that identifies a person, such as their hair and eye color, are nonexistent on the corpse; all that remains are shredded clothing and dead skin falling off as it moves.
“Damn it,” she says as she snaps her fingers. Each of her finger tips start glowing a bright blue. Shaping her fingers like a fake gun, she takes aim at the corpse, “Bang.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a flash of white lightning shoots out from her finger and hits the corpse straight in its head; it explodes upon contact.
When the corpse falls to the ground, the sorceress walks up to it and starts checking its pockets for anything useful. All she found was a wallet with a Photo I.D and a few cut out coupons. She throws it aside and kicks the corpse, “Nothing I can use.”
She looks back at the wall and can sense a strong energy coming from behind it, most likely originating from whatever is waiting behind it. She lets out a sigh and goes around the corner, “I’ll have to come back later. Maybe there’s a spell book lying around somewhere with a spell I can use to blow up this wall. Whatever is behind that wall… it must be something dangerous if it’s hidden like this.”
“As you can see, I am quite the collector.”
Taking a peaceful stroll through a massive corridor, decorated with stained glass windows and finely crafted curved ceilings from one end to the other, a pair of gentlemen have a somewhat casual conversation with one another.
The elder of the two is Sir Reginald Clay, an aristocrat of the modern era. Although he is clearly the older one among the two gentlemen, his natural looks hide his true age. Around this point in a person’s life, gray streaks would be prominent in their hair, but for Sir Clay, his hair is still in its prime, shining in a honey brown tone in his normal combed back style. His skin is still a bright peach color with a few red blush spots.
As for his physical build, it rivals that of even the muscular build of fit men in their early twenties. He’s dressed in a refined and hand stitched black suit with a white button up shirt underneath; the shape of his toned arms gently show in the seams of the shirt and suit.
His voice clear and deep, he adjusts the collar of his suit as he continues talking, “I’ve spend decades in search of such a collection of armors and helms. Each one with a story of its own and how I went about acquiring it. He stops in front of a decorated armor set and looks directly at the young man following his, “When I know the whereabouts of something I want, I always find a way of obtaining it.”
Unlike Sir Clay, the young man isn’t as arrogant as his elder. Standing at Reginald Clay’s side is Cain Ashe, a young man born into a noble and wealthy family. Sporting a dark blue blazer jacket with a black undershirt, Cain fixes his jet black hair, parting it into two even sides. When he approaches the set of armor Sir Clay pointed out, Cain puts his hands in his jack pockets and focuses intently on the armor.
“Let’s see… Emblem in its chest plate, thick metal body from head to toe and a shogunate’s helm with one of the branches broken.” Cain inches just a bit closer to get a look behind the armor, “It’s katana is sheathed on its back and seems to be just under five feet in length from hilt to tip. This is an elite guard’s armor during the Edo period of Japan.”
Sir Clay puts on a surprised look, keeping his eye on Cain, “I’m impressed. You were able to figure that out just from getting a glimpse at it.”
“When I was home-schooled, I asked my tutor to give me extra lesson in Asian history. I’ve always had an interest in Edo Japanese warfare.”
“I take it your tutor had a lot of different images of armors and plates?”
“Too many that I’ve lost count. But seeing it with my own two eyes, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s amazing!”
Sensing the amazement from young Cain, a big grin slowly creeps up on Sir Clay’s face, “I bet you’ve never seen such an a vast panoply of armor sets from various time periods? I’m honored.”
“So, how have you been, man?”
Erik keeps looking at the ocean on the other side of the railing. I can tell that, ever since we started doing this, that he’s been more relaxed about being able to talk to people; he doesn’t too nervous about talking about something that he enjoys. After looking out at the sea for a bit longer, he turns and looks at me.
“I’ve been alright. Just tryin’ to take it one day at a time, ya know?”
His eyes seem to have more color in them. When I first met the guy, it looked like something drained all of the life out of him. His skin cleared up a bit and his hair shines a bit more too; he looks better. I guess it’s my turn to talk.
“Yeah, I hear you. It’s really never easy taking care of a kid, especially if you’re doing it by yourself. I can tell you about all of the stories I have about when I had to babysit my niece for a few days. I could have gone crazy during those days.”
That brought a small smile to his face followed by a chuckle. I know that me taking care of my cousin is nothing compared to his situation, but I’m not trying to make it a competition or anything. I hope I don’t sound like I’m bragging to him.
Erik nudges my shoulder, “Let me guess. She’s probably some six or seven year old who can’t sit still and constantly wants to jump on the couch until she passes out?”
“You a mind reader?”
“Nah. Just have some experience with a kid like that.”
He sure does.
“How’s your daughter. Jeanne, was it?”
“Yeah. She’s a fighter; she bounced back already. She had her break down moment, but ever since then, she’s had her head up. She’s had a little dip in her grades for a brief period, but she quickly brought that back up like it was nothing. She’s trying to find a boyfriend.”
After he utters the word “boyfriend,” Erik let out a long, tired sigh and leads on the railing, putting his head down.
I let out a laugh and pat, “I can’t wait to hear about the guy she finally decides to introduce you to.”
“I just hope the guy she finds is able to put up with her princess attitude every now and then.” He brings his head back up before continuing, “She’s such a spoiled brat at times.”
“But you love the hell outta her.”
I let out a sigh as I’m leaning back against the wall, waiting for all of this to end. However, considering the fact that my arm has turned into a hanging rack, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be here for a while. It’s Tuesday and barely anybody is out shopping around this time unless they’re getting groceries for dinner right after work. As for me, I’m stuck with Samantha. Don’t get me wrong; I love her to death. It’s just… she has a problem when it comes to clothes shopping.
I look through the assortment of clothes she has me holding. A few long sleeve shirts, a few pairs of pants, a skirt and a petticoat. I’m starting to notice that she likes bright colors and things that just fit her just a bit tight. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the things she wears are a bit tighter in some places on her.
Samantha calls out to me from behind the changing room stall, “Hey, Alex!”
“What is it?” I reply.
“I need your opinion on something.”
The door flies open and Samantha comes out casually strutting her stuff about. She has on a tight, long sleeve bright red shirt with frilled cuffs around her hands and a small, black skirt with more frills around the edges. All of her curves are just popping out, so my eyes don’t know where to look.
She stands there with her arms folded behind her back and asks, “How does this one look on me?”
My eyes keep darting around her body, “It’s one that certainly knows where to highlight your features.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s only bad if you think it is.”
“Hmm… Hey, keep your eyes on me for a sec, okay?”
That’s all my eyes have been doing ever since you came out of that stall.
She seems hesitant about something, but she then claps her hands together and takes a deep breath. Using the tile floors of the department store, she gives herself a quick twirl on one foot and comes to an abrupt stop. She tries to make eye contact with me, but her embarrassment seems to get the best of her and she looks away from me.
“D-D-Did you see…?”
Was I suppose to be looking for something? “I saw you do a twirl. Was there something you wanted to catch?”
Her face quickly becomes red, “My underwear…”
… Huh? Confused, all I can do was stare at her with a blank look. I can’t even manage to think of something to say. Samantha walks up to me and pokes me on my cheek after noticing my reaction.
“D-Did you you see them?”
“If you’re so worried about somebody seeing your panties while you’re wearing a skirt, just go grab a pair of leggings or something.”
She puffs up her cheeks a bit and folds her arms, “I forgot about those…” She lets out a small chuckle and continues talking, “Where would I be without you?”
“Probably back at home with your parents locked away in your room playing video games.”
“That sounds about right. Wait here for a minute. I’m gonna go find something I can wear under this.”
She gives me a small smile before walking out of the changing section and onto the main floor of the clothing section. I let out a deep sigh and reflect on how I managed to keep Samantha from dying of embarrassment so many times; I’ve done it a lot.
The door to the stall is cracked open a bit, so I can see all of the different kinds of outfits she has organized inside. Normally, clothing doesn’t catch my interest, but being stuck here after a certain amount of time wore me down. I give in and step into the stall, closing the door behind me.
On both sides of the stall are perfectly organized sets of clothes and outfits while a full sized mirror is on the back wall.
“I wish she kept her closet this neat,” I say out loud.
When I look into the mirror, I can see myself dressed in my normal black and white business outfits. I was never fond of skirts, so I always wore pants of some kind. After looking at a row of skirts Samantha brought into the booth, I shrug and decide to experiment to kill some time. Knowing her, she’s going to find a pair of leggings she likes and eventually get distracted by seeing more cute clothes on the way back.
Without thinking, I randomly grabbed a few pieces of clothing off the walls and quickly change into them. I look into the mirror for the results. In my blind picking, I ended up grabbing a blue and white stripped long sleeve and a skirt, in a much darker shade of blue, that ends just below my knees. Everything fits nicely without any tightening.
I stand in front of the mirror and look at the person in it, “I feel so weird like this.”
Something doesn’t feel right though. I take off my glasses, putting them on a small pile of clothes on the floor, and fix my hair, letting a small section of it hang out over my chest. Upon further looking, I notice that the green in my hair is slowly fading, giving way to my natural blonde tone underneath.
As I’m focused on the mirror, I can hear Samantha calling out again, “Alex, I’m back! Are you in here?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right out.”
As if nothing happens, I turn around and walk out of the booth. When I step out, Samantha has a surprised look on her face.
“Whoops. Sorry, I think I’m at the wrong booth.”
Samantha quickly leaves and starts walking a bit further down the row of changing stalls.
What the hell?
I walk over to her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and looks at me.
“‘Miss?’ Sam, it’s me.”
For some reason, Samantha backs up a bit and quints her eyes at me. As if she really has to focus in order to figure out what’s going on. After putting two and two together, she gasps and runs up to me, running her hands all over me.
“S-Sam! You look… you look…”
“I know, I know. Nothing suits me.”
“You look adorable! You’re even wearing a skirt and you hate wearing them! I totally didn’t recognize you. It’s like you had a transformation or something!”
“All I did was change clothes and take off my glasses… How can I look that different?”
A big smile appears on Sam’s face, “I can show you how different you look just by changing clothes!”
She grabs me by the wrist and forcefully pulls me into the changing booth with her. She starts taking clothes off of the sides and sizes them up on me.
What the hell did I just get myself into now…?
The single row of flickering light bulbs hang from thin electrical wire barely lighting up the cramped, but long hallway; the girl can only see a few feet in front of her before having to submit to the darkness. However, she’s able to see the next approaching light bulb in the distance. Her breathing heavy, giving way to a weak cough every once in a while, she uses all of effort she can to make her way through this hallway. She has to lean up against the wall in order to keep herself upright to walk, even if it seems like a turtle’s pace. When she reaches the next flickering light, she stops for a moment to examine her current condition.
Her thin, solid color black hoodie is torn in multiple places; her entire left sleeve is ripped all the way off from her shoulder, so she can’t hide the numerous cuts and scrapes that line her arm. Her light blue faded jeans are slashed all over as if somebody or something attacked her with a razor of some sorts. Her neck length brunette hair is tossed around with a single bang hanging over her right eye; there’s blood trickling down from her head and traveling down her face.
The girl lets out a violent cough, forcing her to wince and grab at her chest. She gasps for air afterwards. She wipes the corner of her mouth before she beings to speak her thoughts.
“I’m almost there… Just a little bit further and I’ll be out…”
After hearing those lines being spoken, the girl takes a moment to reflect on the events from before. She thinks about that bloodied woman she saw getting dragged away by that… abomination. It looked like something that crawled out of a lab that performs genetic mutations on humans. Just thinking about it causes the girl to gag a bit, but she manages to hold it down.
She reaches into her back jeans pocket and pulls out a small, rusty key. It has an irregular shape, which would make anybody easily assume that it was something else besides a key. She was given that key from a man who had a strange look in his eyes, as if he was being possessed by something. His words spoke of an exit that would bring an end to the girl’s living nightmare, a way out of this strange place. However, his words didn’t have much weight at the time; he was caught red handed killing another man and gouging his eyes out. Perhaps this key leads to a trap awaiting her?
She didn’t really have much of a choice. If she turned around and went back to the room that lead to this hallway, she would surely be killed by that creature that was guarding the door; some strange, werewolf monster with the roar of a demon.
Even so far down the hallway, the girl can still hear the faint roars of the monster behind her in the distance, “It’s either I go back and get torn limb from limb, or I just take a random man’s words and get to the door.”
With her mind made up and too much distance traveled, the girl put the key back in her pocket and continues her way down the dim hallway, hoping there’s something positive awaiting her at the door. It seems like she has been walking for an eternity, but it’s all finally coming to an end; after walking for a few more minutes, she sees a large, rusted metal door at the end of the hallway. It easily shows wear and tear, like it’s been neglected for some time.
Let’s see… How should I go about this? How does Alexis start one of these? Oh, I remember now!
Today’s the first day I start my new decision to become a better cook in the kitchen, so I decided to try and make something original. As much as I played that line over and over in my head, making an original recipe is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be. I thought about all of the different kinds of foods I made for me and Alexis and all of the food I ate as a kid, so it should have been easy for me to think of something original.
But then, thinking about all of that stuff suddenly made me realize that whenever I had an idea of something to make, I remember a time when I ate something like it.
I have all of the different ingredients on the kitchen counter; different types of spices, a bunch of fruits, veggies, and side dishes, and then the main protein is a nice sized pack of ground meat. I take a few steps back from the counter and fold my arms, lightly tapping a finger on my chin as I look at all of the stuff I bought.
“Hmm… Hmmm… Hmph!”
I pout and stomp around a bit as nothing comes to mind for a possible dinner dish. At least, nothing new or original in my mind. I let out an exaggerated sigh and run my fingers on all of the ingredients, poking each and every one. The longer it takes for me to try and think of something to make, the less amount of time I’ll actually have to make it before Alexis comes home from work.
I take a glance at the small, decorative clock above the sink; the time reads “4:04 PM” in nice, blinking numbers.
I start speaking my thought out loud, “Alexis gets off at five thirty and should be home no later than six thirty, seven if the afternoon rush hour is terrible.” I cross my arms and close my eyes, letting all of my thoughts come out, “If I make something simple, then I need to start no later than five thirty…”
I lean back against the counter and keep myself deep in food thoughts. Naturally, I start to drool a bit from the corner of my mouth, thinking about all of the succulent dishes, delicious plates of food, and amazing and tasty desserts. The more I think about food, the more I can feel myself slipping into a daze. I hear a small dripping sound next to me and it snaps me back to reality; I drooled so much, I ended up making a tiny puddle at my feet.
Giving myself a wake up pat on the cheeks, I puff out my chest and reinvigorate myself to make sure I can think of an original dish for my girlfriend before she comes home. I want her to be proud of me! But I need an idea of what to make.
From the kitchen, I can see part of the T.V in the living room; it’s running a few infomercials. I keep my eyes on it, waiting for the main program to come back on, whatever it was that I left it on before I went to the store.
When I see what I was watching on the T.V, my eyes widen with inspiration, “I was watching a cooking competition!”
Switching from “Housewife Sam” to “Lazy Sam,” I rush over to the living room and climb over the back of the couch, comfortably laying on my side and watching the food competition unfold. Looking at all of the random ingredients and items that the chefs are given could easily inspire somebody watching to try their best at trying to recreate those same dishes. I’m even starting to get a few ideas as to what I should make.
I mentally start taking notes of everything each chef does, which tools they used, their techniques and styles. I notice the small clock in the lower right corner of the T.V which says “4:56.”
I let out a tiny gasp, taking notice of how quickly time flew while I was watching, “I need to keep my time in mind! If I pay attention to the number of commercials, I’ll be able to keep myself in line to cook.”
I get up from the couch and head towards the kitchen, leaving the T.V on the channel. I grab my white and blue apron off of the little rack on the side of the sink and tie it tight around me, preparing myself to start cooking.
“Now, let’s begin the sweet desserts challenge special!”
I slowly turn around on the ball of my foot and stare at the T.V; the intro theme to a special, limited airing dessert competition starts playing. My sweet tooth starts getting a small tingle as I see all of the different treats flashing in front of me. Like it’s second nature, I walk to the T.V and lay back down. I lose myself in a beautiful array of sugar.
* * * * *
“So, you wanted to making something original and ended up getting caught in a marathon of cooking shows?”
Full of embarrassment, I let out a chuckle and scratch the back of my head, “Yeah, sorry. I wanted to try something different for dinner tonight.”
“If you wanted to try something different and original, then why didn’t to make something from your Japanese side of the family?”
Japanese…? Why would she say to make something Jap– I totally forgot I’m Japanese-American…
Blank expression on my face, the sudden realization that I have Japanese in my blood makes me freeze up with embarrassment and I stare at my plate on my lap. I spent so much time on making up a new dish from seeing stuff on T.V that I ignored the other half of me… I’m so forgetful, how the hell does Alexis deal with me on a daily basis?