Oh my, this gave me chills. This 150-word delicacy is written by the author of the blog, The Ministry of Shrawley Walks. There you will find a little of bit of everything. Psst, there are some great photos too. This could have been a horror news headline. If you would like to participate in the contest or share, check out May 10th’s post. So, tell me, how do you feel about marmalade?
Marmalade
It was known as the Marmalade factory; for as long as anyone could remember the sweet old lady had been making delicious marmalade there. And for a similar time, the elderly artisan baker had been picking it up from the front doorstep, where it appeared every Thursday morning for sale at the market, at the end of the day the baker would post the takings through the door in a brown envelope.
One Thursday the marmalade didn’t appear, and a few days later police tape surrounded the pretty thatched cottage. The old lady had suffered a massive stroke and died soon after. In the kitchen, they found 2 huge steel pots for cooking the marmalade with a sticky foul smelling residue clinging to the bottom. Protruding from this crusty topped mixture were small bones and teeth.
No-one called it the Marmalade factory again.
