5 Minute Fiction: Gingerbread Spa

A Story of Enlightenment

Photo: © Odelinde | Depositphotos.com

Genre: Humor (w/ Fantasy elements)

Man, it’s been a long, hard day. So when I saw that steaming mug of hot chocolate, I knew it was made for me.

Sliding into the mug of warm, rich liquid, every limb in my body went pleasantly limp. Just took the stress right out of me, and let me tell you, it’s been a stressful day.

First, there was the mixing.

Having all the essential ingredients that are going to form your body in one bowl and combining them is no joke. Now, I, of course, didn’t do the mixing. That was The Hand. But feeling every granule of cinnamon and speck of flour dust churning and moving with all the other dry ingredients. It was a lot. I haven’t had a day of work like that in quite a while.

And we haven’t even gotten to the wet ingredients yet.

Combining my dry elements with the sticky, sweet, buttery, brown mass that they were dumped into was my longest workday in some time.

The Hand churned and dug and mixed until every little bit of flour, every sprinkle of salt, and every ounce of baking soda could no longer be identified. It was all one big whole—a teeming mass of life just waiting to be formed.

By the way, this hot chocolate is doing wonders for my skin. After all that baking, I badly needed a moisture infusion. Also, the steam feels wonderful on my face.

But anyways, back to the mixing.

What happened next was mostly a blur. I was lifted from my warm bowl, wrapped in a thin material, and placed in a cold, barren wasteland where I sat next to something called cottage cheese. She didn’t talk much.

It was then that I was sure I would never make it. The cold was relentless, the silence deafening, and my repeated attempts to talk to cottage cheese consistently rebuffed. I knew right then and there that my life was a waste. I would be cold and lonely forever, never taking any meaningful form…

It was then I was grasped by The Hand, removed from the wasteland, placed on the counter, and rolled to within an inch of my life.

Actually, it was one-quarter of an inch.

The rolling was actually quite pleasant. The stretching rejuvenated my lifeless mass to where I felt energized and purposeful again. Life was good, and it was only going to get better.

And then came the cutters.

Fearing for my life but also understanding that this was the next phase of the journey, I braced myself to take a form. It resembled the body attached to The Hand, but… softer somehow. Simpler. I transformed right there on the counter into the man I am today—a gingerbread man.

Lifted off of my flat birthing chambers, I was transferred to another flat surface where I had now become many. There was Joe, Bob, Darren, and Kevin, among others. (We all introduced ourselves.) And when asked my name, I instinctively said Steve.

We would have shaken hands, but it was difficult to do with zero body structure.

And then we went into the fire on a wild, nine-minute ride where we not only became whole but structured, taking up space and standing on our own two feet.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but my legs were now hard, at least.

When it was all over, I opened my eyes and knew that I lived anew in a brand new world. No longer separate ingredients stored in the pantry—and some from the barren wasteland—but a man. A person. Created the way that all things are created. From the sheer sense of possibility…

And that’s when I found myself in this mug of hot chocolate. What a delightful reward for the back-breaking work of being created.

And now, as I relax in this thick, chocolate pool, I can already see The Hand coming to congratulate me. What an amazing journey this has been—what a thrilling adventure. I wonder just where I will go from here, and it is only in my imagination that I can now see.

The Hand approaches and pinches my head, grasping it between its long digits, and I think that this is some form of affection it must use. I am certainly grateful for the relaxation it has provided, and I wonder if Kevin, Joe, and the others are getting the same treatment.

Lifting me from my bath, I am disappointed by the cool air, but I realize that it may be time for me to go on my way now. On to other places. The next leg of my journey.

When I am lifted to The Hand’s mouth, and it takes one of my legs, I feel a sense of loss but also a knowing. This is the next step, and I will bravely go wherever it takes me.

“I love eating off the legs first. Makes me feel like some kind of monster.” A voice emanates from its mouth as well after my leg has long since disappeared. And suddenly, I am missing the other one.

Briefly, I wonder where Bob and Darren are now. Where am I going?

I am now missing an arm and a chunk of my torso. Reflecting back on the hot pool of velvety sweetness, I realize that I have had a good life.

The next time The Hand lifts me up, I am exalted, and in a moment of pure triumph, I am ready to pump the fist on my remaining arm and exclaim—

CRUNCH

***

In his last moments of consciousness, Steve the gingerbread man knew with the full certainty of delicious wisdom that that, in fact, was the meaning of life.

He moved on, satisfied and content.

Amanda Linehan is a multi-genre fiction writer and indie author. She has published five novels and one novella since 2012 and has been read in 113 countries.

If you enjoyed Steve the gingerbread man's story you can donate on her Ko-fi page by clicking the button below. All support is voluntary and appreciated. :)

If you'd like to be notified when I publish a new blog post, join my fiction newsletter.