Spice Rack

The following is a creative writing piece, compliments go to Rod for the great idea. This week's topic is "Spice Rack," and what you read below is my own creative writing piece inspired by the topic. I opted for some freestyle fiction today, so I hope you enjoy.

Maria paced the kitchen floor, lost in thought. What to eat, what to eat. Her stomach burned with hunger, and yet, a sense of bittersweet remained in her mind. How could she have been so blind? Regardless of how she tried, she could not, would not let go. It was too late.

She opened the pantry and stared inside. Everything was organized immaculately. Her eyes scanned the shelves, and she willed the food to jump off the shelf at her, so as to be spared from making the decision herself. Her eyes glazed over as memories flooded through her, and as her head lowered in defeat, she had a fleeting glimpse of light reflecting off glass.

She blinked, then turned her head. There to her left was her spice rack. A spice for every memory. She read over a few labels. Cayenne Pepper, Cumin, Thyme. As if she was not overwhelmed by her thoughts already, whole new memories and feelings coursed through her. The pain of a lifetime could be found within those spices. Maria had, in the past, cooked with her feelings, matching them with spices.

She knew it was futile. It always was. Her thoughts raced uncontrollably, until at last her mind stopped, settling on a single, novel idea. Her mouth twitched, almost into a grin. It was time. No more could she hold on to the past, no more could she dwell on what was beyond her control. Carefully, she removed the rack from its place, careful to balance the weight of all the little glasses so as not to drop any of them.

Maria quietly walked through her house, and out the front door. She was sure others might stare in awe as she carried her spice rack with her, but she did not care. She continued walking, until at last she arrived at her destination. It was an abandoned warehouse. Littered with broken beer bottles, the warehouse knew secrets of dozens of frustrated lives.

As she stared into the setting sun, Maria's resolve become overpowering. She flung the spice rack with all her might. As it soared into the air, a few of the spice glasses fell out and began to tumble to earth. the rack hit the wall with a resounding thud, then fell to the concrete below. Maria closed her eyes and listened as the sound of glass breaking filled her ears.

She opened her eyes and watched as spices filled the air, a jumble of scents and color. Glass lay strewn about on the ground, and spices dusted the ground in a whirlwind of color. As she gazed, transfixed, Maria felt that at last it was over. What she saw before her and what se felt inside could only be one thing: freedom.

As dusk settled more fully along the horizon, Maria turned and began her slow walk home.