Fantasy Sweets

  Fantasy Sweets

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  Fantasy Sweets

  Excerpt:

  Hodur at Christmas Eve

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  Fantasy Sweets

  Martha stood on the moss-covered stones in front of rock wall with the gurgling well springing from its bottom.

  Her memories about burnt cakes, tartlets with too much salt or sugar and finally the fire in her own oven returned to her mind. Sad memories of her attempts to become a great baker. She could even smell the smoke. Thought it still lingered in her clothes, like a signature she would never get rid of.

  Her burnt dreams had finally sent her off to find the wishing well. Over a year did she travel around the country. Searching for the well.

  The water that sprung from the slit in the stone was clear. It gathered in a small circular basin, surrounded by the moss-covered stones Martha stood on.

  Was she at the right well, finally?

  She desperately hoped it. She had spent all her savings. Her clothes were more rags, than real clothes, and her shoes had holes too, from the long marches.

  Martha felt the dirt on her hands and in her face. Looking closer at the water, she could even see the twigs in her brown curls. They broke from the bushes, when she crawled through them to follow the gurgling sound of the well. There was no path leading to this opening.

  More memories swept through Marthas mind and mad her shiver.

  Wells in dangerous places which were only wells. Men who chased her away from others because they thought water belonged to them only.

  Martha rubbed across her wet face.

  She wiped away the tears that always sprung to her eyes when she remembered her travel stations. Even the disastrous cooking she made, which led to the decision to find the well and wish for a great bakery skill, didn‘t cause so much grieve and tears.

  The well in front of Martha chortled and gurgled with clear water over moss-grown stones.

  She looked around.

  Next to the well, in a bold contrast to the moss-grown stones were well plastered stones indicating this was a known place.

  Someone had cared enough to do a perfect plastering.

  Martha felt her heart pound faster.

  She looked around ready to run if need be.

  Would there be someone breaking out of those old trees on the side of the rock wall within the next second to chase her away or imprison her?

  She listened, but heard nothing beside her pounding heart.

  She had to use what little time she might have.

  Blood pulsed through her body and her ears. Anxiety avoided her from hearing anything.

  Better she hurried up and tried the well.

  Martha bent down.

  A first test to verify if she found the right well was a good idea. Something she could check immediately.

  Martha held her left hands fingertips into the cold water. It was icy. Her fingers turned to blue instantly. The water swirled around her fingertips.

  She clenched her teeth and dipped her hand deeper.

  Her back ached, protested against the low bow.

  Martha sunk to her knees, feeling more uneasy than before. On her knees she wouldn‘t be able to run if need be.

  The stones felt completely even. She couldn‘t feel a slot between them. The cobbled stones were wet, too, she thought as the water, stored by the moss, immersed her thin trousers.

  The sounds of leaves being moved by the wind got through her pulsing blood. Did it become louder?

  “I wish a golden ring to appear at my left index finger”, Martha hastened to say.

  In case they caught her she wouldn‘t have time to do her wish.

  Warmth spread through Marthas frozen fingertips.

  The well boiled.

  Martha jerked back but fell on her but.

  Her hand stayed where it was: In the water.

  She watched agonized how her fingers turned red and hurt even more than before. She made an effort, but couldn‘t pull her hand out.

  This was worse than being chased or imprisoned.

  Martha staggered to her knees.

  Ignoring the pain in her back she got on her feet and pulled harder at her had.

  It felt like her hand was baked into the water, as if the water was as solid as old, dry bread.

  Nothing happened from her pulling.

  Tears fell over her face. Sobbing she gave up all her hope to survive this time. Too tired and exhausted from the long travel and the lack of food for the last two days she sank back down on the stones.

  The heat from the boiling water wandered upwards to her arm, boiling it too.

  This was the wrong well, Martha thought and faded.

  The sun tickled Marthas nose. She felt something soft in her back. The warm air smelled of sun and fresh forest.

  Martha blinked. A squirrel sniffed at her left hand.

  Her left hand? She felt her hand?

  Martha sat up and brought her hand close to her eyes.

  The squirrel fled to the next tree. Its little feet made a small crackling sound on the bark.

  She felt no pain. Her hand looked normal, no traces of a burning. The skin was as tanned as ever before. The hand looked fine except for one small change.

  A golden ring sparkled on her index finger. It had been the right well.

  Relief and joy pushed a smile on Marthas face. Warmth spread through her aching body. She had reached her goal. Widening her smile she looked around.

  Where was the well?

  Martha saw old trees around her. They grew into the sky and only now and then, when the wind moved the branches, a bit of bright blue sky appeared. Some sun rays fell from the side into the dusk light and drew glimmering dots on the ground.

  Martha looked down. She sat on a moss bed. She screwed up her eyes to see better and searched for the cobbled stones. Without success.

  Then she tried to listen for the well. Tried to find a hint of gurgling in the forests sounds. She heard birds sing and leaves rustle in the wind but no water chuckling.

  Screaming loud with disappointment Martha let herself fall back on the soft moss cushion.

  Loud flaps of the birds startled by her cries and curses filled the air.

  Disappointed she watched the branches move high above here and the birds vanish.

  Where was she? Was she imprisoned? Who had brought her here, or what? She closed her eyes. Didn‘t want so see any more of the forest.

  Without a clue where she was, all her hard work to track down the well useless.

  Then everything went silent. The birds were gone, probably settled at a calmer place. The wind ceased.

  She heard nothing move anymore. A whole forest frozen in mid-movement.

  Martha opened her eyes to see who came to torture her and enjoy her failure.

  First thing she saw was a green bush next to her where none had been before.

  Bushes didn‘t appear out of nowhere.

  She observed the bush. It moved. A small, clean face appeared out of the middle of the bush. Only it wasn‘t a bush. It was a dress made from green leaves, worn by the woman now standing in front of her.

  “Welcome back, Martha”, said the woman.

  A soft voice layered with relief, thought Martha. Dark brown hair flowed in waves over the women shoulders to her waist. They got well together with her chestnut-brown eyes and a light brown skin. The green dress seemed to consist of hazelnut leaves. The woman could be sprung alive from a bush.

  Maybe she was, Martha corrected her thoughts, remembering she had first thought a bush appearing next to her.

  “Hello. Who are you?”, asked Martha.

  Martha got up far enough to lean on her elbow. Now she could look into the strange women eyes. Standing the woman would hardly reach her knee.

  “I’m Hazel. I care for this forest.”

  Hazel opened her arms wide to include everything around them.

  “Did you bring me here?”, asked Martha.

  Martha sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. It was impolite to lay when others, probably more important persons than herself, stood. But she wouldn‘t anger Hazel being a giant, so a sitting position had to suffice.

  Hazel didn‘t look dangerous and didn‘t threatened or bullied her.

  Martha leaned against the next stem. She felt wobbly and without support she wasn‘t sure she could sit for long.

  “Yes, I brought you here. You‘ve lost your conscience. The squirrel“, Hazel pointed towards the one which had sniffed at Martha before.

  It waited out of Marthas reach on the stem.

  “The squirrel alarmed me to come and help”, said Hazel.

  Then Hazel smiled stretched out her hand and offered an apple to Martha. “You are hungry for sure, aren‘t you?“

  Martha took the apple, murmuring a hasty thanks and bite into it.

  Her stomach rumbled, happy with the outlook of food coming its way.

  She was very hungry.

  The green apple tasted sour. Chewing her first bite she tried to

make sense from the things seen and heard.

  Hazel seemed friendly. What a relief. Martha let down her guard a bit and started to enjoy the apple.

  “Thank you”, said Martha meaning her rescue and the apple.

  “Could I get something to drink too, please?”, asked Martha.

  She hoped being brought back to the well.

  Hazel didn‘t answer.

  After a short pause, Martha added: “If you show me the way I can drink from the well.”

  Her feet felt still wobbly. Hopefully the well wasn‘t this far away and if Hazel had found her there it was surely easy for her to bring Martha back.

  “I‘m afraid I can‘t.“ Hazel shook her head. Martha gulped in disbelief.

  “But...”

  “Yes, I found you there. I can find the well anytime, but am unable to guide anybody there. The forest hinders it.”

  Hazel shrugged her shoulders.

  “The moment I try to guide you I start to walk in circles, no matter how hard I try. I‘ve tried many times“, said Hazel.

  To Martha, Hazels face looked sad, confirming she was unable to guide her.

  That‘s an explanation? Crude thing.

  Martha looked at Hazel with mistrust. Maybe the woman only tried to keep her away from the well?

  At least she was gentler than all the other owners of other wells before.

  A new thought sprung to Marthas mind. Was there more than one wishing well?

  Probably. There were so many tales about them. There had to be more than one wishing well around the world. Maybe she could find another one. And for sure she wouldn‘t do a test wish next time.

  “Besides. You got your wish granted”, said Hazel.

  Hazel pointed to Marthas finger.

  “One wish for each life. You will never find the well again. That‘s how it works.“

  Martha stared at Hazel. She couldn‘t believe she lost her chance to succeed by just wanting to test the well. She had feared let overwhelm her and lost every chance to get her heart wish granted.

  Martha wound her arms around herself and rocked back and forth. Grieving over the lost chances.

  Martha believed Hazel. But maybe there was a chance nonetheless? Yet, the fairy admitted, no one stayed in the forest to try finding the well more than a week in the human time measuring system.

  Martha decided to stay in the forest. There was no home she could go to. Nothing to lose but everything to win. She quickly recovered from her shock.

  She thanked Hazel for the great food the fairy provided her with: Green apples, delicious, juicy berries and clear water from a well.

  An ordinary well, Hazel showed Martha. One Martha was able to use as much as she liked.

  But no matter how hard Martha tried and how much she wandered around, exploring the forest, she didn‘t find the bushes hiding the well with the moss-covered stones and the stone cobbled surrounding again.

  Disappointed she continued searching after some months.

  Slowly the insight dawned that Hazel might be right and there wasn‘t a loophole to expand on.

  Luckily, Martha loved being in the forest. Although, the golden ring on her index finger was a constant reminder to her failure she slowly changed her thinking about it.

  One day the ring started to feel like a bond to the forest.

  “Hazel, may I stay forever?”, asked Martha.

  Hazel sat next to her in a sunny clearing, enjoying cherries. The red juice covered Hazels chin.

  Martha felt the sticky juice on her skin too. The sweet taste covered her tongue. The scent of ripe cherries in her hand and hanging over her ears filled her nose.

  Hazel searched Marthas eyes and looked her up and down.

  Martha held Hazels gaze.

  “Sure. You‘re welcome to stay as long as you want.“ Hazel smiled at Martha and nodded.

  Martha let out her breath. The feeling being a long term guest vanished. Now she felt at home. Welcome and at home.

  Having slept on moss cushions during the last months, Martha build herself a small hut to live in. Fall was coming nearer as the yellow and red leaves falling down to the forest ground indicated. Winter would be cold, and she wasn‘t a forest fairy like Hazel.

  When she finished her hut and put in a moss bed with some more moss to use as a blanked, Martha started to dream of cooked food again.

  The idea of cooking roots, collected from the forest intrigued her. She experimented with stones and tinder, until she managed to spark a fire.

  The success made her long for more. Her heart wish sprung to live again.

  Would she be able to build an oven in the forest?

  Surely she had to be careful to not hurt any of the trees or bushes with fire, but there were enough stones lying around.

  The open fire she already managed to spark hadn‘t hurt any of the trees so far. Martha was very careful with the fire.

  Martha went to work.

  She searched the stones and got many scratches from turning and carrying them around.

  Most stones were to round, others were too heavy or too small. After finding many fitting stones, she saw, that they didn‘t fit together perfectly. Something to glue them together was necessary.

  After many attempts forming clay from the sides of the small creek running through the forest, Martha finished her oven.

  Hazel, who watched curiously, applauded as Martha showed her the new build oven.

  Martha felt her cheeks glow, they probably turned pink from her being proud of her work.

  “What do you need it for?”, Hazel asked curiously.

  Martha looked puzzled.

  “I never saw something like this”, explained Hazel.

  Martha gazed. The fairy was so much older than herself and had never seen an oven?

  “I‘ll show it to you. It‘s an oven. I use it to bake bread or cakes. It‘s a bit similar like the fire to cook or roast thinks. Heat makes the food more delicious“, said Martha and continued to talk and explain.

  She went on and on, until Hazel started to laugh with her lovely voice, that sounded like little hazelnuts clacking together.

  “Excuse me, please. Just show me how it works”, said Hazel.

  Martha smiled.

  The scratches in her arms and hands from the stones, sticks she got during the building didn‘t hurt anymore.

  She took some dry mosses she lit up a fire in her oven.

  Martha watched the fire burn down in the oven. It smelled of burned pine wood and apples.

  To show Hazel the main principle, Martha placed some apples in the oven to bake them.

  The lovely scent of baking apples filled the air. Martha heard the squirrel climb down the tree and watch them. Even the birds sat on the lower branches of the trees, observing what she was doing.

  When Martha decided the apples were ready, she pulled them out of the oven and placed them on a huge leave, she used as a serving plate.

  Then she gave Hazel one of the delicious smelling apples.

  The fairy bit in the hot apple without hesitation.

  “Wait. Let it cool first”, cried Martha.

  Too late. Hazel already spit out the bite and dropped the apple. Blowing out her breath through her mouth to cool her lips and tongue.

  Fume spiraled up from the ground.

  “I am sorry you burned your mouth”, said Martha.

  She was really sorry.

  “Wait a bit until the apple cools”, said Martha and picked up the red apple with the crumbled skin from the brown soil.

  At least it was cool enough now to eat.

  Martha took a bite from the other side to check, the apple cooled enough on the inside too. Then she handed the round, delicious smelling fruit back to Hazel.

  “Try it again, please”, asked Martha.

  Hazel took another bite. She liked the apple.

  Carefully both ate one apple after the other. Even the squirrel took a little bite to taste. But it decided to return to its normal food.

  With the confidence of her first success, Martha started to bake cakes.

  Sadly her tries to bake something besides apples all turned into black charred heaps of uneatable and undefinable things.

  Until one day, her oven broke down completely. The glue she used had given way to the heat and constant usage. A stony, black heap laid in front of Martha‘s hut, smelling of burnt nuts and fruits.

 

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