Soup Pot

I was super inspired by the book that my husband and I have been searching for the past 2 weeks. My grandmother’s ‘reference’ cookbook. I have a great idea but will post about that later. Here is my short story Soup Pot (word count 229).

“2 cups water, check,” Amy called out ingredients as she poured them into her grandmother’s pot. What better way to feel her grandmother around her by cooking her soup recipe in her soup pot? She swore her grandmother’s soup had healing powers.

After hours of gently simmering it was time to serve. She ladled spoonfuls into a soup bowl and sat with a box of crackers. Instead of her first bite taking her back to the days they spent in the kitchen it was just soup. It tasted fine and was very satisfying but not what she had expected. Amy read the recipe again and every ingredient was in that pot. She stared at the soup, stared at the empty kitchen, and stared at the recipe.

All Amy could do was gently blow on her soup and cry. Unknowingly a tear fell into her bowl and with her next bite a warm began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way to her limbs. The kitchen took the nostalgic warm hue and she heard it. Amy heard the voice of her grandmother.
‘A recipe, cricket, are just words on a paper of food thrown in a pot. It’s the love you stir them with that makes the dish so good. Cook with love. That’s the one ingredient you can’t put into words or buy of a shelf.’

Serial Date

Trying something new and tried keeping the story short. I don’t think I was too successful but glad I gave it a go.


Liz nervously fidgeted at the table. When she answered the ad she made a promise to herself the blind date would happen in a public place. Startled, she nearly knocked over her water when a handsome blonde haired man said hello from across the table. Liz stood, “Hello, Graham?” she shakily said reaching out to shake his hand. Graham was more handsome than she imagined and the two sat talking and what she thought had some sort of chemistry. She hadn’t felt a connection with anyone since her husband passed in a horrific head-on car crash with a drunk driver several years back. Liz felt so comfortable around Graham almost as if she had known him for years.

The evening was going better than she had imagined when a gentleman at the bar caught her eye. He was staring at her so intently it caused Liz to shiver. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil her date and shifted in her chair away from the man at the bar. Graham was in the middle of a story about his sister and a spider when the waitress interrupted with a glass of lemonade and a napkin ready to set underneath and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, do you own a black sedan?’ Graham nodded. ‘Your lights are on.’ Graham excused himself to go and turn the lights off. ‘Miss, there is a note on the inside of the napkin just open it. Please read it before he gets back.’ The waitress almost seemed to be pleading.

‘Dear Liz,
 YOU ARE IN DANGER! My name is Graham and I am the gentleman that was supposed to meet you here tonight. I was sitting at the bar watching you. I was so mesmerized and thought that I wasn’t good enough for you so I essentially stood you up. That’s when I noticed that a gentleman introduced himself and you two seem to be hitting it off well. Behind the bar, the TV is on the news station and they just aired the report about the serial killer that has been murdered thirteen other women that have the same characteristics as you. Between the bartender and me, we have him distracted for you to read this and the cops are on their way. When he gets back, do the best you can to kill time (no pun intended) and try not to give anything away.
Graham’

Liz didn’t have time to process exactly everything that was happening and as soon as the imposter sat down in front of her she could tell he knew something was up. ‘Is everything ok Liz?’ the man asked. She nodded tried making small talk nervously watching the door waiting for her rescue. Graham stood, ‘This evening has been going so well, I don’t want to jinx anything. Would you like to go on a second date?’ Liz nodded and before she could answer he told he would be in contact and walked out the door. She stood and the real Graham was by her side offering comfort. ‘Hi, I’m Graham. You look lovely tonight.’ Liz smiled then jumped into his arms when the gunshots started. Graham tucked her into his embrace while backing up. The cops questioned her after the scene was cleared. Liz learned that he was, in fact, the serial killer and she was going to be his next victim. She only had one question. How did he know her date’s name? Wait. He never said his name was Graham.

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