Writing prompt #18: Tell about a casserole

And again... here's the pledge...


Writing prompt #18: Tell about a casserole
1/9/2014

It all started with a casserole. One casserole was all it took to change my life forever. It was the way the cheer on top was cooked. Perfectly golden, bubbles undulating, just waiting to collapse in my mouth. My saliva glands warmed up. Two more people in front of me and it would be mine.

This was why I endured the silly ritual of breaking my once-a-month fast with all these late 20-something (and spattered early 30's) almost strangers. It was the food. Every other day of the month, I was content with microwave pizza, deli sandwiches from the cafe around the corner of my office and protein bars while navigating my way through morning traffic. But, once a month, I indulged my taste buds. Real, actual home-grown food. Multiple entrees, sides, and even desserts.

I reached for the utensil ladling the casserole and grasped. Air. What? I looked down. The serving utensil was gone. Someone else was helping themselves to my casserole. Was even scaring off the cheesy goodness. What nerve!

"Excuse me!" I said, following the hand holding the ladle up. A strong hand. Clean, clipped fingernails, long sleeve light blue button up shirt. As I reached his face, he stopped scooping and looked at me. His eyes smiles, a deep, blue smile. And, suddenly, I really wasn't all that hungry.

Writing Prompt #14: A different ending to a fairy tale

I, Jennie Blaser, promise to uphold my Prompt posting pledge.

Writing Prompt #14: Write a different ending to a fairy tale

NOTE: I wrote this on October 15, 2013, long before the new Disney Cinderella came out. Long before I had ever heard the phrase, 'have courage and be kind.'  Nice to know the Disney writers and I think alike...

Revenge was just not in my nature. My parents had raised me well. Well, my real parents. My sweet mother had been scorned when she married my father -- a duke. She had been the second daughter of a miller. But, my father, who knew what mattered, had fallen in love with the goodness, both in and out, of my mother. He didn't care that his family taunted and begged him to reconsider. Love was more important than money or title. During their first few years, before I came along, my mother dealt with all sorts of duplicitous townsfolk, trying to trip her up in her new 'lofty' state, to cause her to believe she was less than her married-into-status. My father and mother held hands and stood together, strong and full of the confidence that comes from within, from a pure soul.

Often, as a child, my mother would tell me these stories. About people who now loved her who used to make fun of her. "I could have been vengeful towards them, as my influence in the town grew, but that is never the answer. Love always is. Remember that, sweet Ella. Always return good. Good for good. Good for evil. Good even for only mediocre. If you have only good in you, only good will be able to come out,"

Now, here I was, the crown princess with more power and influence than my mother or father ever dreamed of having. And the court room full of dignitaries and dukes awaited my decision.

My step-mother and two step-sisters, who had done nothing but injure and demean me for years stood in front of me. What would be their fate? Revenge could certainly be justified. But, I remembered my mother's words. Always return good.

I smiled, "Let them be free."