THE CHRONICLES OF GIN
A Serialized Gingerbread Man Retelling for Adults
Part 3: Into the Kitchen
The moments after Papa Roach disappeared were torture. I struggled, but I was well and truly stuck to that baking sheet. I'd been alive for less than an hour, and I was already facing the consequences of my own mortality.
Shuffling footsteps entered the room. A soft voice, crackled with age yet still sweet, hummed a pleasant tune just beyond my line of sight. And then—she was there.
I don’t know what I expected. Based on what Papa had told me, shouldn’t she have been a monster? Some nightmarish creature with fanged dentures and glowing red eyes behind her reading glasses, maybe? But no. She was painfully ordinary—until she smiled. Then, as if by magic, she became the sweetest little old lady who ever walked the Earth.
“Hello, handsome! You came out every bit as gorgeous as I hoped,” she sighed, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
I longed to smile and chat with her, but my promise kept me mute.
“Oh, I see. Has that crazy cockroach been talking to you?” She chuckled, glancing just past me but—oddly enough—nowhere near the sugar jar.
“He's always spouting his conspiracy theories, trying to scare away my new friends with his lies.” She leaned in and whispered with a wink. “But everyone knows cockroaches aren’t even supposed to be in kitchens. He’s just jealous because this is where you belong.”
Belong. That word felt right. I hadn’t had time to figure out what was missing in me, but maybe that was it? A place to belong...
“Nothing to say yet, Gingerbread buddy? Alright, let me just get you scraped off that baking sheet.”
With a few painless prods and nudges, I was free.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
"Mhm…" I murmured absently—then froze.
I hadn’t meant to break my promise, but once the sound left my mouth, there was no taking it back. In an instant, every ounce of warmth drained from her expression. The old woman rolled her eyes and huffed.
“Great. Another talker,” she muttered in disgust.
Then she lunged—knife in hand—at the spot I had occupied just a fraction of a second before. That was the moment I realized that along with the gift of life, I had been given the gift of speed.
I darted from counter to cupboard, leapt over dishes, and slid past the toaster, searching for a way out. The murderous harpy may have known the floor plan better than I did, but she never even came close to catching up.
“Stop running! You’re food! I literally made you to be eaten—that’s your sole purpose! How hard is that to accept?” she screeched, hurling a dirty potato peeler eight inches to my left.
But her words couldn’t go unanswered.
“Who the hell wants to die like that?! You can run, run as fast as you can, but so will I—and you will never be as fast as I am!” I bellowed over my shoulder as I finally spotted a window open just wide enough for me to jump through.
“Even if it’s not me, and it’s not today, somebody will eat you one day! Do you hear m—”
She probably could have kept up her hurtful tirade much longer if a certain zombie cockroach hadn’t chosen that moment to fly straight into her mouth. She spat him out with a panicked yelp and ran from the window, disappearing from sight.
I paused my sprint to thank Papa, to tell him something that might give him a little peace of mind—but he just shook his head.
“No, keep going, Gin. You’re free. Remember—don’t ever stop running!"
So I left the only friend I had behind in that madhouse and ran straight to the barn.
I really shouldn’t have.
To be continued…
I did say 'definitely eventually', didn't I 😅? Well, I'll try to get Part 4 out sooner, but as usual, I make no promises.
☮️
