The Mysterious Scent of Cookies

By Rachael Kemme

As I stepped into my apartment, the aroma of chocolate greeted me. I hung up my coat and shook the weariness from my shoulders while my mouth watered from the fresh, chocolatey goodness wafting from my kitchen.

Like cookies. Gooey triple chocolate cookies I’d eaten at Grandma’s house when I was a little girl. But that wasn’t possible. Grandma had been dead for years.

As a matter of fact, why did I smell baking cookies?

I lived alone. I’d just moved here and didn’t know anybody. And it certainly hadn’t been me. I would’ve burned down the house trying.

My relatives and friends back home wouldn’t have come to visit, yet it seemed like someone was here at some point. Had a burglar broken into my house? I shivered, chills creeping down my spine, wondering why an intruder would make desserts.

I crept down my dim, narrow hallway, flicking on every light but seeing nothing unusual. Noises like low whispers tickled my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. But when I turned around, the passageway was empty.

Taking a deep breath, I continued toward the kitchen, hoping to find some logical explanation for the source of the sweet scent.

The kitchen lights were off, but a glow came from the oven. Inside were two dozen small circles speckled with chocolate rising in the heat. The rest of the room—at least, what I could see in the sparse lighting—was exactly how I had left it.

Well… not exactly.

My chairs were all tucked under the table, unlike the mess they were in when I’d left the house. And the hand towel was folded neatly on the table with two plates stacked next to it. I never folded my hand towel.

Was this some kind of nice joke?

The oven timer beeped, and I jumped. My feet froze to the floor, refusing to move and turn it off.

“Are you gonna get that?” someone said behind me.

I screamed.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, brushing past me. The oven light cast the stranger in an eerie shadow. “But seriously, what were you staring at that timer for? Those cookies won’t remove themselves!”

I put a hand to my stuttering heart, trying to calm myself.

There was someone in my house. And he was… making cookies.

Of all the things someone could do when breaking and entering.

The person strode across the room and pulled the tray from the oven with the grace of a dancer. “I hope they’re good. I’ve never made cookies before, but the instructions on the side of the box were surprisingly helpful.”

I stared at the near-perfect circles of cooked dough. Then, shaking my head to remove the dumbfoundedness, I flicked on the lights.

My body froze, and my mouth dropped open, almost letting out another scream.

This being was not human. From his light blue skin to his short, wispy-white hair, and of course, the small wings. The darkness had masked them before, but now I watched them flutter nervously, stirring up the air.

“What… What…”

He grinned wider. “Percy the pixie, at your service,” he said with a sweeping bow.

I gaped.

“Well, this isn’t exactly the introduction I planned on. I thought you got off work later today. So much for my surprise.” He sighed and turned away, grabbing a plate and scooping the cookies off the pan.

“I thought pixies were evil.” It was the only thing I could think to say. “Messing up people’s houses, making their lives miserable.”

He paused, looked down. “Yeah, I tried that for a while. But do you know how depressing that becomes? It really gets to you, seeing people scared and sad all the time. I decided to try something else.”

“And… is this better?” How was I having a conversation with a winged, blue-skinned person?

Percy shrugged, finishing the transfer of cookies from pan to plate. “Well, you’re the first person I’ve ever tried it with. So, we’ll see. At least you haven’t run screaming, like everyone else does when I try to talk to them.” He set the plate down on the table. “Ladies first.”

Not knowing what else to do, I took a seat and grabbed a warm, melting cookie, turning it around in my hands.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

“Look, is this scaring you?” He paced back and forth, wings fluttering again. “I didn’t really think this through. If you want me to leave…” He glanced back at me, and our eyes met.

I saw the same loneliness in his eyes that I’d seen every day for the past few weeks when I looked in the mirror. The person behind those eyes desired to be heard, to be noticed, to find a friend in this strange place.

“N-no!” I said finally, managing a smile that somehow felt real. “I was… I was just surprised. This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a while.”

Percy’s face lit up, and my heart felt as warm as the cookie. “In that case…” He sat down and picked up a cookie. “Do you mind if I stay awhile?”

I took a bite of the cookie. It tasted like butter and chocolate and the nostalgia of friendship. “Not at all, Percy. I’m Evelyn. Welcome home.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachael Kemme is a Catholic dark chocolate lover who likes to spend her days engrossed in stories. Her love of the fantastical leads her to tell tales about other worlds, magic, and broken characters needing redemption. When she’s not writing, you can find her blogging under a pen name, listening to movie soundtracks, or journaling.

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