Short Story : ' Heavens Kitchen '

Then, it comes out of nowhere. The biggest climax, suddenly brought on like a wave crashing against a cliff’s edge. The oboe melody recurs again, this time less sorrowful than inviting. Come back, it sings. And the flute comes skipping over the sound, the sun rising from behind black clouds. But the melody it plays sounds out of place, lower than and not as bright as what it could be. My fingers twitch, following the flute countermelody as if I were up there playing with them—as I should be.

My toes wiggling in the damp golden sand. The salty air invading my nostrils. Ocean waves are crashing up against the shore and receding back into the deep blue waters. The ultraviolet rays of the sun are heating my pale skin. William and the boys are building a large sandcastle. They cover the gleaming turrets with slimy brown seaweed and pristine white shells. The rolling hills to my right are a dark shade of green, having been healthily watered by the summer showers. Small feathery clouds move steadily through the gleaming blue limitless

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

The mountains towered over us threateningly. The only reason I joined the research group was to escape normal life. The same everyday routines were torture to me. The grass around me fluttered gently, creating this enchanting illusion of a grassy, green wave of greatness. The sky was filled with fluffy wild clouds, dancing around in unison.

I felt the sticky, sweet summer air plaster my clothes to my perspiring body, the wood of my violin getting dangerously damp as I cranked out note after note; a mechanical doll spinning slowly around my room as I performed to nobody but myself and the smell of mochi rising from the kitchen.

When I take my first step through the door at Cracker Barrel, the sudden smell of sweet cinnamon, sugars, and spices fill my nose as I look at familiar sights. From left to right, gifts are decorated on top of the shelves and fine glasses are stacked on top of each other in a neat array. Candies are stored together in wooden bins, and clothes hand neatly on the clothing racks. The yellow lights make everything seem brighter and give me a warmer feeling. As I walk ahead past the cashier at my left to see the other half of the place, I see a huge restaurant straight ahead of me with a lady waitress waiting at the front to greet guests with a friendly “hello.” While my family and I were walking to take our

As I comfortably laid in my warm delightful bed. I felt such peace, such serenity as I inspected my bedroom, my sanctuary. The christmas lights dangled from the ceiling which made the light bounce off from my purple walls and illuminate my entire room. They reminded me of stars. It was

It was hard to breathe but I had never respired without a mask on so this was a whole new sensation and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to experience a pollution-free utopia. I ran through the muddy green trees desperately looking for the next seal. I found it but there were no people. The next group were gaining on us but when the hairs on the back of my neck tingled something felt suspicious. The group behind was approaching fast. I ripped the next door open and collapsed to my knees as it sealed behind me. The fresh air brushed the grime off me and embraced me like a new blanket placed ever so gently around me. The smell of freshly clipped grass engulfed me, reminded me of what the world once was. I had reached utopia. I had reached the Green

The whole time, I stared at the conductor’s movements, followed his every lead, making sure that I breathed at the right measures, and stayed focused. I became so engrossed with the piece that I forgot that I was singing; that I was living. I could feel the notes running through my body, my soul being controlled by its exquisitely written melody. It felt like a religious experience.

I wash my hands after taking off my shoes in the big steeled sink with a mirror. As I squirted the hand soap the fruity smell tangled me in this world full of fruits such as apples and strawberry whose mixture I never I never imagined of, and got me thinking what the journey laid ahead. As I walk into the big hall with red carpet I see many people sitting where the females are sitting on the left side and the males on the right. In the middle is where the Guru Granth Sahib (holy book) covered with colorful cloth where people bend in front of the holy book onto the white fury rug that is soft as fur in a jacket or coat. After, I seek the blessings I walk to get offerings from this elderly man sitting at the end of the hall with a big steel pan that is kept warm because of the heater under it. As I follow the teenage girl, I bend down to get the offerings known as Karah Prashad, and the smell of the butter, and sugar flew into my nose without even notice. As I ate the parshad I felt the butter, sugar, and flour melt into my mouth and I cleaned my hand with the white napkin that is given as we take the prashad. After, I leave the main hall I enter the langar hall where food is

Upon being dismissed after returning to our compound at the end of each long training day, everyone instantly dashed to his sleeping quarter, grasped a towel and rushed to the shower rooms. Those who were slow to the shower rooms might not have showers that day since the water in the shower rooms was only available for a fixed and short period of time each day. Immediately after shower time, we would have to get in line for dinner; those showing up late at the mess hall might not have meals that evening. It was exactly the sentiment of a saying often heard at the Academy (author unknown), “Meals at Table House, sometime full sometime empty; Water in the W.C., sometime flows sometime

“Finally, something to drink”, I think to myself as a devotee gives me a juicebox. My stomach is growling as I smell samosas in the bus that we are travelling in. I look around the bus impatiently waiting for my food to arrive when I look down at the juice box.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen while the blindfold is applied to my eyes. Immediately, it is dark. My first thought is what is the easiest to get for a bowl of cereal. I decided to get a bowl from the counter. I rely on my memory to guide me to the cabinet through feeling for the counter top to the left of my position, then I reach up to grab a bowl. I feel around with my hand to make sure that I am at the top of the stack of bowls and then I grab the bowl. I feel with my right hand to make sure there is a free space for my bowl on the counter and that I am not to close to the edge. Then with my right hand, I close the cabinet. I edge myself over to the left again, following the counter top. As I reach the end, I stretch out my arm to help guide me towards the stove. The spoons are in the left lower drawer. I open the drawer and feel the different utensils. I find the small size spoon and pull it out. I then make my way back across the kitchen to place the spoon beside the bowl.

After a few moments I had reached a curve in the brook where a large willow tree stopped me from going any further down this side. But I had no need to go anywhere. Just across from the willow, around a mass of mossy rocks, lay the source of the whispering melody. An instrument with a long stand and a rounded arch lay before me, with 47 strings to complete it. It was a harp. It glowed like the sun, with an aura of gold shimmering around it. There was nobody playing the Harp, for it was playing itself. Normally, seeing an instrument play itself would have scared me so much I would have bolted away as fast as I could; but there was something about the way the trees moved, the birds chirping, and the wind sang that made me relax, almost to the point of sleep. It wasn't like I was sleepy, but the setting was almost like a dream. I felt like one of those characters in a fantasy book, like I was floating, but not really. It was just too unreal. However, this was definitely Nymph's Grove, the Harp was pure proof.

I opened the shining doors and walked in. Immediately the crisp and natural scent of the autumn air was cut off by an artificial and sweet scent. The wall of candy scented air that hit me was