I Have No Muffins and I Must Eat: A short short story

DRIVE-BY STORIES #17

Jul 3, 2022

The smell of banana-chocolate chip muffins baking drifted up the stairs to greet Monica outside the bedroom. She stopped, right hand going to her mouth, disorientated about where she was going. Like a name on the tip of her tongue. Brandi, but that thought brought a sadness so deep she could drown. She scarcely breathed as she listened for any sound downstairs, revealing that she wasn't alone.

...know when to run... the snatch of song hung at the edge of her hearing where it mixed with thoughts and memory—it left her undecided. She didn't hear anything. Even her heartbeat seemed too slow and beat quietly in her chest.

The house felt empty. Unoccupied. Like it had the first time she'd stepped inside, six months ago, August, when the hot wind carried with it hints of smoke from the wildfires that ranged across parts of the Eastern side of Washington state. None near enough to threaten this house, thankfully, and the realtor had been quick to point out all of the fire safety features designed and built into everything from the landscaping to the house itself. Sloped window sills and gutter screens to prevent pine needles and leaves from gathering on the bright green metal roof. Terraced gardens with rock and water features that were beautiful—and provided concentric fire breaks around the house.

The house was large, grand, rustic, and modern all at the same time. Solar sheeting on the south-facing roof, sloped at the best angle to take advantage of the sunlight. Large windows, wrap-around porches, and more rooms and space than she'd ever imagined that they could afford. On top of all of that, a large shop and ten acres, half-treed with pines that had escaped fires that passed through the area. The house and buildings were new, built after the previous structures had burned down in one of those terrible firestorms.

Brandi hadn't wanted to know what had happened to the previous owners, but it was clear enough from the fact that the property was being handled by an estate that the owners had passed away. But Brandi was insistent about not knowing the details.

"I'm going to believe that they passed peacefully in some hospital nowhere near here," she had said when Monica speculated. "I know you. If you can't help yourself and find out, don't share it with me."

And Monica had found out what happened. It wasn't even difficult. A casual conversation at the Omak library, getting her library card, and one of the women there had known all about the couple that lived out on the property. Caught in the firestorm when the wind changed direction. It moved so fast, they never had a chance to get out. Hadn't evacuated because of their cattle and other animals. Nothing had survived.

Turned out the property had been much bigger than their ten acres. The estate subdivided it up into about forty or so ten-acre lots, building homes and making an enormous amount of money off the sale of each one. According to the librarian, the estate was managed by a first cousin, because the kids and grandkids had been out there to help the older couple. Wiped out the whole family, thanks to climate change, and people never thinking it could happen to them.

Monica didn't share the details with Brandi, knowing how much it would have upset her. A whole family, grandparents, parents, and kids. Generations that had been raised on the original ranch all gone. It was sad, but it didn't change that Monica loved the new house and the beautiful property. That came later.

Now, she moved with quiet steps, her bare feet not making any noise on the laminate floors. It didn't take long to reach the cozy landing, with its chairs and bookshelves overlooking the main floor. She stop again by the wall where it wouldn't be easy to see her from below and listened.

Silent. No sounds from downstairs. Yet the odor of banana chocolate chip muffins fresh from the oven hung like a delicious ghost in the air. Brandi loved baking—and then eating—those muffins. A recipe her mother had made, the woman that Monica hadn't had a chance to meet, but felt that she knew through Brandi's stories.

It was an olfactory hallucination, Monica decided. That was the only thing that made sense. A holdover from a dream. Her mind remembered the odor and now she thought she was smelling it, even though she couldn't.

If she was hallucinating it, it'd go away. She just had to go about her day, put it out of her mind, and pretty soon she wouldn't notice it at all. Like with tinnitus—lying in bed it could seem impossibly loud, but she got through most of the day without noticing it.

First step? Coffee. Inhaling the wonderful scent of freshly ground coffee, savoring the steam carrying the aroma from her cup, that would get rid of anything else that she imagined smelling.

She pushed away from the wall and walked straight out to the railing. She gripped the polished wood—harvested right here on the property—and looked down into the lower level, the open living, dining, and kitchen area. Everything was quiet and still. No lights on. Nothing there at all.

It was in her imagination.

Monica pressed her hands together and turned to the stairs.

Brandi stood at the top of the stairs, smiling broadly, holding a plate piled with the fresh baked muffins.

Monica screamed and jumped back automatically. Her rump hit the railing and her momentum carried her over the rail. She fell, smelling the muffins the few seconds before she hit the stone-tiled floor below.

💀

Stepping out of the August heat, the house was a cool oasis, and an escape from the threat of smoke in the air. Hints of disaster, fortunately not close to this house—the smoke drifted across the state from forest fires.

Monica felt Brandi's hand slide into hers. "Wow, this is something," Brandi said.

It was an amazing house. The realtor had explained all of the fire safety features built into the house's design. It left Monica feeling cold as she studied the wide open floor plan, the stone tiles of the main floor. Her gaze rose up, looking at the railing far above, stairs curving up the side of the room, the banister made from polished, naturally stained wood. Just looking at it gave her a feeling a vertigo.

She clenched Brandi's hand, holding on, and shook her head. Brandi caught the look. "Hon?"

"Not really what I'm looking for," Monica said. She turned, looking over at the realtor with an apologetic smile. "It's lovely, but not for us. Maybe something with some history, some character. A place that feels lived in."

Brandi leaned close, lips brushing her cheek, as she whispered into her ear. "I agree. It feels a bit like a tomb. Let's keep looking."

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

This is a new challenge. I’m writing short short stories, under 2,000 words, many under 1,000 words. I’m sharing them to my Instagram stories. They’ll drop off that, but premium READINARY subscribers can read the full archive of stories here. When I have 100 stories, I’ll publish a collection of them all.

Best wishes, always — Ryan

I HAVE NO MUFFINS AND I MUST EAT

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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