The Grandma, a Short Story

The grandma had warm, brown eyes. Each kid who looked into them instantly felt secure and tucked in.

The grandma baked amazing, good-smelling cakes, and she was content to give them to the youngsters. Due to the fact she wanted them to be healthful, she'd sweeten them with honey or maple syrup, never ever with white sugar.

The grandma told attractive stories, all about kids who identified a fairy tale residence, and then lived there happily ever immediately after, devoid of a be concerned in the planet.

The grandma generally smelled sweet, like the cakes she baked. Anything on her smelled like that, the skin, the hair, the clothing. The youngsters loved that smell.

The youngsters would quickly come across the grandma's home. All the youngsters talked about that residence as a spot exactly where you would be protected, forever, exactly where no one would beat you up, exactly where every person would be good to you. The young children would be attracted by the warm, sweet smell, and stick to it to the residence. It seemed that the grown-ups by no means noticed the smell, and they ignored the quite, old-fashioned residence partly covered with ivy, Due to the fact it wasn't new and modern day.

It was usually warm in the grandma's property, Since of the cakes she kept baking, and Considering that of the pleasant-smelling firewood the grandma applied in the major oven.

The grandma had extended, sharp teeth she'd sink into the necks of the sleepy, complete-fed kids, and drink their blood. The kids would not thoughts, Given that the grandma smelled so good and was so warm and constantly took care they have been comfy and secure.

And everybody lived happily, the grandma ever following, the kids a bit shorter than that.

This story was 1st published in Serbian, in various publications and in my short story collection, Macji snovi. The English version was featured at Bibliophilic Blather, the weblog of the author Karen Wojcik Berner.