Donuts & Dragons

By Zoe Anastasia

“This is not what a raspberry donut should look like.” Maroon batter oozes all over my flour-dusted fingers and plops onto the kitchen floor. I grimace. “At least, not Grandma’s. Hers are perfection.”

Mossy’s tiny dragon wings shudder as he scratches at the deep pink goo clinging to his snout. He yelps and steps back—right into a raw donut. “Not good, not good!” He wrenches his talon free, leaving a footprint in the center.

I roll my eyes and giggle. “Maybe you shouldn’t have taken a bite when you saw it was undercooked! Can’t keep your appetite in check, can you, Mossy?”

The emerald dragon harrumphs.

“You can have that one.” I wag my finger at the talon-print donut. “That is certainly not a worthy gift for Grandma.”

More dough drips from the test donut in my hand and splatters onto my shoe. I place it back on the baking sheet with the other perfectly round pastries, their thick middles concealing a mess of uncooked batter.

How am I going to fix this? Did I take them out of the oven too soon? Or did the fairies place a spell on my berry bushes again and ruin the whole recipe?

“Magic,” I mutter. “If only it was useful!”

I slip the pan of doughy donuts back into Grandma’s antique oven, the door hinges creaking and groaning. A fruity aroma dances around me like a playful breeze. Surely baking them longer will help? If Grandma was here, she’d know. But she’s gathering fabric at the market.

Mossy leaps onto my shoulder and digs his claws in. “Don’t have a good feeling about this, no no.”

“It has to work.” I set a timer and tap my foot as the seconds slip by.

Mossy licks the goo off his scales with a frown. “Thought dough was supposed to taste good,” he whines. “Maybe you should cut the nasty center out.”

I shoo his words away. The minutes tick by. Three, two, one…

The timer trills.

I swing the oven door open and pull out the cake donuts.

Heat wafts off the dark red dessert. I wait a few moments, holding my breath, then grab one anyway. What’s a few burned fingers?

“Ow, ow, ow!” I rip the donut open and find—

More gooey batter.

“No way Grandma will be impressed,” Mossy warbles as I throw down the burning hot donut. “Oh, what a tragedy. Granddaughter can’t read baking instructions!”

I cross my arms. “I’d rather be a tragedy than let her miss National Donut Day.”

Okay, so baking them longer failed. What else am I supposed to do?

“Maybe I didn’t build a big enough fire in the oven.” I tear a piece of crusty edge off Mossy’s talon-print donut and nibble it. A burst of raspberry flavor fills my mouth. “Mmm. Hey, try this part, will you?”

The dragon snatches a piece from my fingers and scarfs it down. Flames burst from his nose. “Still a bit undercooked.”

I eye the footprint in the center and the maroon dough pooling inside. The ring around the center holds up well enough. I wonder—

“See!” Mossy squeals, his eyes following mine. “Told you, cut out the center!”

Yes. Yes.

I grab a teacup to use as a scoop. “Wash your talons!”

Mossy grumbles, but his eyes gleam. As I cut holes into the center of the donuts, the dragon dunks himself in the sink and flings water droplets all over the kitchen.

“Hey!” I shield myself, laughing.

He scoops up talonfuls of pink batter, a delirious grin on his face. “Baking is fun!”

We scramble to finish, forming tiny balls on a separate pan with the leftover dough. The clock ticks—Grandma will be here any minute!

I shove the donuts back into the oven and stuff a few extra logs into the fire below.

Please, please work.

Mossy perches on the oven handle like a vigilant green gargoyle overlooking his castle. He waits and sniffs the air and waits some more. I bite my lip. Is this idea crazy?

After several minutes, Mossy flares his wings. “They’re done!”

I slide the donuts from the rack and onto the oven top. Mossy flaps his wings, creating a mini breeze to cool them down.

“A valiant effort,” I tease, stirring a bowl of light pink frosting.

The front door of the house creaks. “Ginger, dear,” Grandma calls in a singsong voice, “I’m home!”

“Hurry!” I whisper-yell.

Mossy shoots me a look. “I can’t instantly change the temperature!”

“Maybe we need to look into magical ovens, then.” I grab a donut and toss it onto a porcelain plate with lily petals painted on the rim. With shaking hands, I spread the frosting and finish with a garnish of raspberry and chocolate drizzle.

The kitchen door slides open. I spin around.

Grandma blinks at the mess of bowls and floury talon prints trailing across the table. Her eyes fall on the donut I hold out to her.

“Happy National Donut Day!” The words waver as they leave my lips, and I give her an apologetic, lopsided grin.

“Oh, my.”

She shuffles past my raspberry dough calamity and lifts the donut, turning it over in her hand with a delicate touch.

“What a fascinating shape,” she murmurs, peering through the hole in the center. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“So… it’s not as strange as I thought?”

Grandma pauses over Mossy’s donuts and laughs at the talon prints. “No, they’re the most magnificent donuts I’ve ever seen, dear.”

I grin and give Mossy an affectionate nudge. “Who knew donuts and dragons went together so well?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Zoe Anastasia has been dubbed the “Donut Queen” after making over 100,000 apple cider donuts at her local pumpkin farm. When she isn’t making donuts, she’s probably daydreaming about magical humpback whales and butterflies who can speak. She aims to write whimsical stories that illuminate the darkness and show the girl tucked in the corner that she is seen and belongs.

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