Morning all. Running just a little bit slow today. I was enjoying being in my own bed just a little too much. But I am awake now and it is time to kickstart the day. so let’s jump into the morning prompt. Timers ready and off we go…
I like the set up of the scene. I have no idea what the situation is but I don’t think these people live together or spend much time together. I just need to figure out their story before going on. But I do like the set up. Perhaps it is a scene meant for another story.
Monday, October 16th: It smelled like raspberries.
It smelled like raspberries. He sniffed again. The same scent flew through his nasal passages leaving the same imprint. Raspberries. He eased the door open and peered inside. There were several large pots on the stove. They were both wide and tall and seemed to balance precariously on the burners. Below, he could see the flames of the heating elements licking the bottom of the enormous pots. He eased himself forward into the kitchen to get a closer look. The smell of raspberries intensified. The kitchen was empty but when he drew close, he saw that there was a long spoon resting on a ceramic plate next to the pot. It had traces of red goo on it so he knew someone would be around.
He peered into the pot. The smell of raspberries was intense as he leaned over one of the pots. It was the smell of summer condensed into one vat. Inside the large pot there was a mass of red gel it seemed to shiver rather than boil although every now and again a small bubble would work its way to the surface and pop slowly as though reluctant to hurry.
He looked at the second pot. It had a darkly shining mass but glimmered with the same gel like shine as the first. He leaned over and inhaled. It was difficult pushing past the scent of the raspberries. They wanted to take over. It took several deep breaths before he caught the more subtle aroma of blackberries.
He leaned back and looked at the two slightly smaller pots on the back burners. One was red and the other black. ‘Raspberries and blackberries.’
His eyes drifted to the window and out past the glass to the snowy expanse of backyard. Nothing grew now that the world was blanketed in white. Low bushes looked like frosted gum drop humps and the trees were all black limbs with white strips of snow on their tops.
“I froze them as they came in on the bushes this year.”
He spun and found Alice standing there. “It was too hot to make jam then so I waited until bringing heat to the kitchen would be welcome.”
“Oh,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He had never seen jam being made. He assumed someone somewhere did make it, but it was never a part of his world. Jams, Jellies, Preserves, marmalades or whatever you wanted to call them were purchased in stores and paired with peanut butter for children.
Ten til Midnight 