The monster’s mistress
Today I have a treat for you, dear reader. I recently asked Nina D’arcangela if she’d be willing to do a bit of flash fiction for me. She agreed and asked on what topic or phrase. As I pondered the answer I was flipping through some photos recently downloaded to my laptop. I came across one that was both disturbing and head scratching. It is the picture you see below.
The monster in my kitchen
It was this picture that prompted me to give Nina my idea.
My girls have a terrible habit of snatching the cameras in the house and doing with them as they please. We won’t know what’s on a memory card until days or even weeks later.
In this instance, The Monster in the Kitchen was borne. Nina was kind enough to do two different versions on this photo and Sarah, the monster, asked if I could use both. Well, here you go. Enjoy and beware the kitchen!
The Monster in the Kitchen
Having gone late one night into the pantry for a snack, I sat still as can be in the dark gobbling my treat. Suddenly I hear a noise emanating from the hall, have I been caught? Sliding farther into the recesses of the dimness, I watch for the door!
But lo, what do I see? It is she, the Noodle Fairy who passes through my entry. Small, near to petite, she flits about surveying cabinets and cupboards looking for something to eat. Should I reveal myself and offer to share my fare with her? Just as I am about to do so, she pulls the last set of doors from the wall in a frustrated frenzy and tosses them to the floor!
While she skulks back through the winter’s cache of eats once more, I catch the glint of a fang from her opened maw. I think I shall sit here quiet while she forages, and disturb her not. Just as she reaches the final set of cabinets, my heart drops. My body has betrayed me, my stomach flip-flops!
Swiftly she turns, I flick on the light, and in a deep rumble she demands of me “Noodles!” this night. Scared beyond my wits, and not wishing the sting of those fangs, I hold out my spoon and into a gentile creature she tames. Curling atop the counter like to a cat in my lap, I spoon, she slurps, she has been sated at last. The bowl runs dry, and I see her grimace, but the cupboard is nearby, many a can I quickly pry. Near six probably seven she devours ‘till sated at last, belly full I offer a final treat and she just gently laughs. To the fridge I scuffle and pull out my most precious delight, I have grown it myself and picked it this very night. Rind of gold and green, grown perfectly round, I turn to offer her my prized Mellon only to hear her shriek and scream!
I try to convey my intent was just right, but she is in a rage that cannot be contained by the shared broth of this night. With a cacophonous roar at me she lunges, clawing the fruit from my grasp, to the floor it plunges!
The red ickor of pulp splatters with seeds, she looks at me as though I have committed the most heinous of deeds. Pain and betrayal flick through her small child-like eyes, as if to wonder how I could do such a thing, as to ruin the trust the noodles did bring.
Scared for my safety once again, I stand frozen in shock while my wife descends. Just before the kitchen door is breached, the Noodle Fairy turns from me and through the window she leaps.
My wife looks around surveying the mess, and wonders aloud what I’ve done to cause such distress.
“The Fairy,” I tell her, “she was here and noodles we shared, she must have been frightened off when you came down the stairs.”
“No fairy is that,” she exclaims in pure fright, “it was a monster in my kitchen you encounter this night.”
“Can’t be true!” I say, “I feed her by spoon, she was just a wee little thing that needed our food!”
“No dear one,” she scoffs at my plight. “It is the red goo on the floor around you that saved you this night. Know you not that the beast fears Mellon of water the most? Oh my dear love, consider yourself lucky not to have been her next roast!”
While she begins to clean the mess I have made, I consider her words. They ring of some truth, I have heard stories that claim the fairy a spoof. A demon of minuscule proportion she is said to hide, behind the face of a ‘lil angel she uses as her guise.
The kitchen cleaned, the mess cleared away, my wife takes my hand and leads me to rest for the next day. One final glance back as I flick out the light, I cannot think the creature would have harmed me, not after sharing with her my soup this night.
The Monster in the Kitchen
I shall tell of words most heinous yet true, of what this tiny creature shall do!
Dare you boil a pot of her most desirous stock, no choice she will have, to it she must flock. Flavor it with plucked bird and try to keep her away, your cottage is the one she will visit this day.
Sneaking through doors and windows, crevasse and cracks, the monster will breach all to gobble your snacks!
There is one secret known, twill guarantee your broth be safe.
Find yourself the Mellon that is black pitted, slice it thick, plate it near and she shall be outwitted!
The creature does love her noodles and broth, but the fruit with seeds shall make her froth. Should you wish your eats safe, do as I say – take up arms and be ready to defend your soup this way!
The pitted pink fruit an unexpected fright, the creature will not bother your meal of noodles this night. Nay of locks and bars tried yet true, heed these words of warning I share with you.
She is small and fanged with near no fear, thus you must have the pinkest fruit near! Those who do not, find themselves porridge dry, and to bed without sup, their children shall cry.
Do not be deceived, she is cute and petite, yet from your foulest bird, she shall steal the meat.
And you the kind server, you have prepared her delight; stand back my friend, for without the fruit, ‘tis you she may bite!
Nina’s Bio (or the awesomeness of Ms. D’arcangela)
Nina D’Arcangela was the type of girl who, when given a doll as a child, would immediately pop its head off to see what was inside, then spend countless hours contemplating how so many fantastic and fantastical things could be in her own head while the doll’s was so very vacant.
Enamored by the imaginatively woven tales of Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Ray Bradbury, H.G. Wells, Edgar Rice Burrows and Arthur C. Clark, magical worlds took form from their inspiration keeping her awake night after night reading by flashlight under the covers, or nesting in a closet with the door shut. While willing to read just about anything that is well crafted, she has a soft spot for the darker side of writing in the Horror, Sci-Fi and Other World genres.
Nina can be reached through Sirens Call Publications at Nina@SirensCallPublications.com; or email@example.com. Please visit her on her blog “Sotet Angyal: The Dark Angel” at sotetangyal.wordpress.com; or “Spreading the Writer’s Word” at ninadarc.wordpress.com; and feel free to stalk her on Twitter as @Sotet_Angyal or on PenoftheDamned.com