Written by Jonathan Forrest
Every morning, Stephanie always took the last waffle. She would toast it and drown it in a pool of their grandfather’s signature maple syrup. Jake would complain to his parents that there weren’t enough waffles in the house. He even went so far as to petition his parents to buy two boxes–one for him and Stephanie.
“Do you think I’m made of money? Or Waffles?” Jake’s father laughed, “Your waffle intake is the least of my worries.”
Jake decided to wake up an hour before Stephanie, so it would be certain that he’d eat the last waffle. As he entered the kitchen, Jake surveyed the area like a scout. The doorway was twenty feet away from the fridge…so close, yet so far in the darkness. He had to navigate through the kitchen without light (so as not to alert the house). Jake had to be careful not to walk too fast because the sound of his bare feet smacking the hard linoleum would be loud. He took long strides that were slow. Each step ended with him on his toes. He didn’t realize that his mom forcing him into ballet class would come in handy.
From the doorway, Jake made it to the end of the L-shaped island. He took a sigh of relief. Then a thump echoed. Jake’s eyes widened.
“Oh no! Is that–is that Steph?” He whispered to himself. A high-pitched meow made him jump. Jake quickly grabbed the cat, hid behind the island with one of his hands over the cat’s mouth. He stayed silent, listening to anything, hoping no one would come down the stairs. The coast was clear, so another sigh of relief was called for. The cat dug his claws into Jake’s arms which forced him to let go. Jake bit his lip, and his eyes watered. The cat flicked his tail and then strutted off.
Jake refocused on his task at hand. Time was shrinking. He looked toward the fridge’s direction, and started tip-toeing again. His narrowed attention on his destination kept him from remembering the dining room table was in front of it. He slammed his knee into one of the chairs. Jake clenched his teeth and gave out a deep moan. He limped around the table, and his hand to guide himself away from it. Soon he slipped and braced his hands in front, slamming them into the refrigerator’s door. A smile crept upon his lips. Jake reached his hand up to the freezer’s door handle and opened it. A rush of cold air bit his face. Jake only cared about the waffle box. He pulled it out and realized it felt extremely light…too light. He shook the box and heard nothing. There was no waffle rattling around in there.
“No, no, no, NO! That’s not possible! I checked it last night before bed,” Jake cried. He took the empty box and sat at the table. Jake laid his head on his arms.
He woke up to someone tapping on his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw Stephanie standing beside him. Jake was too distraught to talk. Instead, he handed the empty box to his sister.
“What’s this for? Did I leave it in the freezer last night?” She asked.
“Huh,” He said.
“Yeah, I figured you’d wake up early, so I ate the waffle after you went to bed. Sorry.” Jake slammed his head on the table, accepting his defeat.
Writer in the Woods 