Bok choy and thin-sliced carrots, a bit past their freshness date, sizzled in the pan. She sniffed the aromas of sesame oil, lime, and Moroccan baked tofu. The sharp scent of sliced onion softened, long layers relaxing, rolling and shining over her cooking spoon.
Red pepper and slivered greens for sharpness and color, to be added at the very end. Peanuts in a bowl.
To her left, a tall pan of jasmine rice steamed, rattling for attention. She adjusted the temperature and resettled its lid.
“What’s missing?” she whispered.
Memory whispered back, “Lemon Pepper, just a dash. And me.”
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (10/07/2021): In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes whispers. It can be beautiful or creepy and any genre. Where are the whispers, who are they from, and what do they say if they say anything at all. Go where the prompt leads!
You’ve crafted poetry here. Your descriptions are divine, each step vivid in the reader’s mind. What a poignant take on the prompt, Liz, there’s much love in this one.
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Thanks, Rebecca!
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There’s sweet and sour, is there sweet and sad? A savory dish with a very tender ending.
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Thank you, Michael!
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You had me at each savory bite. The finish was tender.
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Aw, that ending. It was obviously a special dish and then we find out why. Something once made together perhaps, and shared.
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