The Magical Baking Contest – A Short Story

Written some years ago and edited this week, The Magical Baking Contest – a short story featuring a musical cake… and a cat!

The book Ember had been reading clattered to the floor, as sheets of paper she’d been using as bookmarks scattered across the tiled surface.

A tapping started at the backdoor, not a human knuckle tap but a nudge nudge tap from a feline paw. She turned round in her seat and looked to the door, a furry grey bundle was waiting to be let in. He of course had a cat flap set into the door but instead of using it, he’d often wait at the door to be let in, especially when he saw her through the glass and knew she was home.

After letting him in, she went to retrieve her book and the bits of paper from the floor. She went through each note, trying to place them back inside the book in the correct places. The cat jumped up onto the seat next to her, watching her intently, hoping she might get the hint that it was supposed to be dinner time soon.

The noticeboard on the wall glowed pink as a message arrived. Ember got the cat his food before going over to the board. The cat meowed his thanks as Ember pulled the tab down at the side of the board. To allow the message to load onto the screen, whatever had been on it before disappeared as the text of the most recent message overlaid it.

Ember you are invited to the 2029 contest of brewed cakes at 7359 under the streeghtlight on the road with the acorn sign. Application forms must be completed no later than the 38th May. We look forward to your application.

Should she enter this year? She’d wanted to in previous years but things had been much too hectic with her work. Now she had the next three months off while in between projects, it gave her the perfect time to try out a recipe.

Grabbing a notebook from a stack of books under a shelf in the lounge, she tipped open the recipe notebook that had been passed down to her. The cover was worn but not ripped.

She flicked through a couple of pages, no not that one, no definitely not that, I don’t want to try that again, she said to herself. She finally landed on a simple cake recipe that played a musical tune whenever a slice was cut, she hadn’t tried this one before.

Carrying the book back through to the kitchen, she set it down on the counter. Comparing the ingredients list to what was in her cupboards, she found she only had three of the eight ingredients. A trip into town would definitely be needed if she wanted to have a go at baking this.

Later that evening she’d arrived home with the extra ingredients and was now stood at the counter with them laid out in front of her. She hauled out her mixing bowl from a cupboard by the stove and set about mixing the ingredients together.

*

When she got the cake out of the oven an hour later it appeared to look cooked at least. The real test would be when she cut into it though, would it emit a lovely song on a summers day like the recipe described?

The sound it made was awful, it was supposed to play a lovely little melody but the sound she’d created here? It was enough to make anyone want to cover their ears. However nice it might taste, which she hadn’t even managed to check yet, people would be put off with the sound before they ever got around to trying a slice.

She quickly covered it with a metal lid, instantly quieting the noise. The cat was definitely judging her right now for the harsh noise interruption.

How could she have made such a grumpy cake though? Wait, could one of the ingredients be out of date? She grabbed the packets back down from the cupboard to check, no they were fine, that couldn’t be it.

She went back to look at the recipe again, apparently it was the oven temperature, she’d put it on five degrees higher than it should have been. She’d used the temperature she’d normally use to bake a cake but by doing so it had obviously made the cake angry. “It’s not like I actually overcooked you,” she said out loud to the cake. The cat, now stood in the doorway gave her a curious look now, as if it was asking her, are you really talking to a cake? Ember shook her head and left the cake on the side.

*

The next morning she was supposed to be meeting a friend in town, she wondered if he’d been given an invite to this baking contest. His baking of course was good. If you ignored the incident from three years ago, but recently he’d baked an entire house made out of sponge. Even the windows opened on that one, it was a wonderful cake.

When she got into town she joined Hugo at a cafe, “hi,” she sat down on the seat opposite him. She got the waiters attention and ordered herself a drink, Hugo had already got one when he’d arrived a few minutes before.

“So what’s new with you?”

“Not much, just working, what about you? Enjoying your time off?” He took a sip of his drink.

“Actually, I got an invite pop up on the noticeboard today.”

“Oh?” he turned to look at her, “wait, you got one too?”

The waiter brought over her drink, she thanked him then turned back to Hugo, “are you going to enter?”

“Probably not, after last time,” the one time he had actually tried entering before, his cake had come to life. He’d created a car shaped cake that had started driving round and round the kitchen, nearly tripping everyone up.

“Your cakes are normally brilliant though, at least they sound better than mine.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, “sound better?”

“I had a practice run earlier,” she said in explanation.

“You tried to bake a musical cake?” he had an amused look on his face now, “you know that’s one of the hardest cakes to bake right?”

“It said it was beginner level,” she folded her arms in defiance.

“The sponge, not the sound,” he shook his head, “what did it sound like?”

“… angry.”

He laughed now, “you made an angry cake?”

“Well it certainly didn’t sound too happy,” she picked up her drink and drank some, “apparently I set the stove a little too high, it was perfectly cooked otherwise though. If you think your attempt at that cake would be any better, by all means, come over and give it a try.”

“Maybe I will,” he finished his drink and set his glass down again, “want to order lunch while we’re here?”

“Lunch sounds good,” she glanced over to get the waiters attention again but momentarily turned back to her friend, “just don’t give it wheels this time.”