(April Challenge - Later) All things Whole (2,090) words
Decaying Atheist
I know this is late. Enjoy, I'd be happy to hear anything.
All Things Whole
by DW Rushlo
Saturday morning was traditionally Larry Franklin's cleaning time. He was
already
wrist deep in the muck. "Look at the dust on these things," Franklin Said,
"it makes it
seem like I never cook." He slid a hand across his large belly. Franklin was
a monsterous
man, tipping the scale at over 360 pounds.
Larry pushed aside his black covered books, moved away the white and red
covers,
the green covers, the dark blue covers, and finally stopped when a book
caught his eyes.
It was bound in dark green leather with the words, "Whole cooking,"
embossed in
gold. Upon first inspection, Larry thought it might be real gold. It caught
the overhead
lights like real gold. He thought it couldn't be, nobody used real gold on
cookbooks that
were sold to average people. Larry pulled the book out and place it on the
kitchen table.
When he finished cleaning off the book shelf, he returned to the book on
the
table. It was warm to the touch, like fresh towels straight from the dryer.
"My god, it
is heavy." He put it back on the table.
Larry reached out to open it when the book seemed to open on its own.
The lettering inside was exquisite script.
"What's this?" He looked down at the book.
It had opened to a recipe for something called Tan's cake. It was then that
the
voice first spoke.
"You really should make me. I'm great for parties." The voice was a velvet
covered female rock waiting to crush its way to dominance.
"What?" Larry's jaw dropped
"Oh, nothing, just make me. Make me, Larry, I'm an excellent cake."
White-faced, Larry slammed the book shut. The book shuttered slightly and
came to
a complete rest on the table.
He stumbled into the bathroom, looking at the mirror. Deep purplish-black
bags
rimmed his eyes. His massive jowls quivered as he splashed water on his face
again and
again.
Inside the medicine cabinet a long line of bottles awaited Larry. Lithium
Carbonate, Risperidone, Lamotrigine, Bupropion, Venlafaxine, Fluvoxamine
Paroxetine
Nefazodone Carbamazepine, and Divalproex Sodium. It was a mix and match grab
bag for
Larry. A couple of small round pink pills, a few tan shields, down the
throat with a
little water and Larry felt better. There was no way the medications had
worked that fast
but they gave him comfort anyway.
He shut the cabinet and took another look at himself. He straightened his
clothing and splashed his face again.
Back in the kitchen the book was still resting on the table. Larry picked
it up,
found it was still warm to the touch, and decided to open it again. He
leafed through the
pages and arrived back at Tan's Cake.
Larry was in the backseat, as some force drove him. He pulled a piece of
paper from the
refrigerator and began to copy the ingredients down.
It wasn't until Eighth Street that Larry finally gained control. He didn't
stop
though; he just drove on to the supermarket.
Frankie's Farm Shop had the best food, almost all of it fresh and most of it
straight
from the farm. Frankie's sign was a neon pink monster with two cows holding
a jump rope
as Frankie's Farm Shop jumped over it. A work of art to some, Larry laughed
every time he
saw the sign.
The shop was nearly dead. The automatic doors hissed open blasting Larry
with
near-artic winds.
To make the cake:
Tan's Cake: Roman Helmet
Prep Time: 1 hour (Ready in 3 hours 5 minutes)
Makes 6 Servings
Ingredients:
Libum:
1 (18.25-oz.) pkg. Morgan's® Yellow Cake Mix
1 cup water
1/3 cup "Unholy" oil
3 "Deviled" eggs
Frosting:
1 (16-oz.) can Morgan's® Creamy Supreme® Vanilla Frosting
Brown, yellow, black and green paste or gel icing colors (not liquid food
color)
Decorations:
2 round black licorice candies
Black licorice twist
Black string licorice
Directions:
Heat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour one 1 quart ovenproof bowl and one 8
inch round cake
pan. In large bowl, combine all cake ingredients; beat at low speed until
moistened. Beat
2 minutes at high speed. Pour 2 1/2 cups batter into greased and floured
bowl to within 1
inch of top; pour remaining batter into round cake pan.
Bake at 350°F. until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Bake cake
in pan for
35 to 40 minutes; bake bowl cake 45 to 50 minutes. Cool cakes in pan and
bowl for 15
minutes. Invert cakes onto wire racks; cool 1 hour or until completely
cooled.
In small bowl, tint 1 cup of the vanilla frosting with brown and yellow
icing colors to
make desired tan color; blend well. Place cake from pan on platter or
foil¬covered
cardboard. Frost top lightly with tan frosting.
With serrated knife, trim top of bowl cake to level; invert onto cake from
pan. Trim
around edges of cake from pan to create slanted edge for rim of helmet.
Frost with tan
frosting, sloping frosting at bottom to make rim and shape of roman helmet.
Divide remaining vanilla frosting evenly into 2 small bowls. Tint 1 bowl of
frosting with
black icing color; blend well. Tint other bowl of frosting with green and
brown icing
colors to make desired color; blend well.
Decorate helmet with round licorice candies and licorice twist. Use string
licorice to
outline rim of helmet
Larry overpaid on the way out but he wasn't worried. Although the voice no
longer
compelled him, he pushed himself forward. He had to see what was up with the
cake. The
ride home was pointlessly dull.
The smell of baking was in the air even before Larry began. The book
cradled
closely to his chest was humming softly. "Now mix in the eggs, Larry."
"Sure." Larry pawed the eggs and dropped them into the bowl one at a time.
"What do I call you," Larry said, "I mean don't you have some sort of
name?"
"Call me Amy, Larry."
The book cradled in his right arm seemed to wrap around him in a friendly
hug.
Larry pushed back, almost dropping the book into the cake batter.
"That wouldn't do Larry. I must remain clean if you're going to try this
delicious cake."
Larry toiled the afternoon away and took a nap while the cake baked.
The trees were covered in bright green leaves. Tiny blue flowers rested
against
the trees trunks. A small path of smooth white stones flows between two
trees and out
into the open. Larry first saw her there by the trees.
She had short blond hair, and a sharply angled face. The combination of
features
and dress suggested that she was in her mid twenties.
"Are you Amy?"
"Of course, Larry. Why won't we sit down and talk a bit." Amy's waved her
hand
toward two flat rocks.
Larry waited for Amy to take her seat, before he sat down. They sat in
silence,
as Larry watched the sky.
"What are you looking at Larry, can't look at me? Don't you like what you
see?
Don't like blonds?"
Larry stammered, he grabbed at his collar and readjusted it.
"It's not that, this is a dream Amy. I know that. I bet the entire thing is
a
dream."
"Larry, the book is no dream, the cake you are baking is very special. And
I'm
here to make sure it comes out right. I know you can do it. I wouldn't have
picked you if
I knew you would fail."
"What's so important about the cake? I mean it is just a cake," Larry said.
"Larry, if you only knew. But enough of that, let's just relax for awhile.
There
is still more to do."
Amy edged closer to Larry and leaned in. She grabbed him and kissed him.
She
tasted like cake.
"Why'd you do that? I mean why me."
"Because you're special too Larry. You're going places and I like powerful
men."
Just as she was leaning in again, an alarm shattered the perfect scene.
Larry got off the couch and moved into the kitchen. The scent of baking cake
filled the entire room. He opened the oven, the cake looked just right. He
pulled them
from the oven and placed them on the wire racks.
Larry mixed the icing to get the tan color and waited.
"Just another hour and we can finish the cake Larry. Just another hour
until you
come into your own."
"Amy, I want to ask you something."
"Go on," Amy said, "ask me anything."
"Are you real? I mean real, not just something in my head."
"Oh, I assure you, Larry, I'm very real."
"Would you go out with me?"
Larry's cheeks reddened and he looked toward the floor, he noticed a speck
of
dirt. I should have swept better, he thought.
"I'd love to, Larry. I just can't until my job is done."
"Your job?"
"Yep, helping you reach your full potential. Helping you find your way."
"And a cake will do that?"
"It'll be the start, there is much more after that."
Larry sat at the table leafing through the rest of the book, the other
recipes
seemed bland, or were scribbled in such a way that he couldn't read them.
"Why are the other recipes so useless?"
"They aren't important. So when the cake is finished you really should
think
about having a party. That way people will come to know how good your cake
just is."
"Would you come to the party?"
"Oh, I'll be there," Amy cooed.
The timers buzzed and Larry went to work, frosting the cake and getting it
ready.
"Larry no piece for you right now. Your guests get the first pieces."
Larry jumped, there was a knock at his door. Nobody ever visited him, so it
took
him a few seconds to gather his wits. When he opened the door, he was very
shocked at the
site.
Reverend Timmons was a pencil thin man with a huge bushy mustache. He had
tiny
eyes buried by large glasses with thick lenses.
"I came when you called Larry, although I thought it was strange at first,
I
never refuse the kindness of my flock."
"That's it Larry, let the Reverend have some cake. He's a good place to
start. A
fine man to make contact with, knowing him well will let you go far."
Larry ushered Timmons in, invited him to take a seat at the kitchen table.
He
did. Larry cut a piece and offered a drink. Timmons declined.
Timmons first took a small bite and seconds later, he was shoveling the
cake into
his mouth spraying crumbs as he want. When the piece was finished Timmons
stared ahead,
as if dazzled by the kitchen wall.
"Larry, now you will see just how important this cake is. Ask the Reverend
to do
something."
"Reverend Timmons, please stand up."
With shaky legs the Reverend stood, turned slightly to face Larry and
seemed to
await another command.
"He's all yours, but honestly just making the man stand. That's tame. Why
don't
you do something else. Something else that shows your power." There was an
urgency in
Amy's voice now.
Larry found himself saying, "Reverend Timmons kiss my feet."
"Now that's what I'm talking about."
The Reverend fell to his knees and crawled over to Larry's shoes. He began
kissing his feet.
"Send him home, tell him to invite others, so we can be alone."
"Go home Timmons. Tell others to come."
The Reverend regained some of his composure and left out the front door. A
few
seconds later Larry heard the car leave the driveway.
Another knock but this time, the door blew open on its own.
It was Amy, her hair brown now. She wore a thin white sheet over body.
Everything
below the sheet was nearly visible. The sheet shifted often covering up her
delicate
parts.
"So now, you know the secret. Now you know the plan. Invite people until
the cake
is gone, make another one, and another one after that. Do this and you'll
see your power.
Come here, now its time for your reward."
Larry moved across the kitchen and into the living room, but as he got
closer he
stopped.
Amy's fair skin has taken on a red tinge, her eyes were dancing flames. Two
small
horns poked from her forehead.
"Now you see the truth! Don't you like me?" Amy's body shifted again, blond
hair,
fair skin.
"What are you?"
"I'm your friend Larry, the only one you have."
In Christian demonology, Amy is the 58th spirit, a President of Hell, which
maketh one
marvelous in astrologie and in all the liberall sciences, and procured
excellent
familiars *Wikipedia
Patrick
"Decaying Atheist" <har...@mainedot.rr.com> wrote in message
news:rsWdnQenkYh7fdzb...@giganews.com...
>
> I know this is late. Enjoy, I'd be happy to hear anything.
>
> All Things Whole
> by DW Rushlo
Hi, Derrick! I've read this. I like it. I like the idea. However, I
think it can be better. Comments below:
>
>
> Saturday morning was traditionally Larry Franklin's cleaning time. He was
> already
> wrist deep in the muck.
Muck? Look, I am really confused as to where he is. Muck makes it sound
like he's cleaning up some sewers or digging ditches or some other
disgusting thing like that. It took me a while to realize he was at home.
The whole cookbook confused me, too. Quite honestly, I had thought through
the majority of this story that he had found the cookbook somewhere else
while excavating an archeological site or something, because it's almost, by
the tone, as if he didn't recognize it. That being said, I'm having a hard
time believing that this devil cake recipe is just in an ordinary cookbook,
and apparently has been there for some time, so I'm left to wonder why Amy
didn't appear to him sooner. If the cookbook was in his house all along,
that is. Stories of this nature always work better when a demonic power, or
a power that can rule the world, has been lost and has just recently been
found, thus reawakening the demon's power. So, my advice is this: Have him
find it somewhere, or maybe he's cleaning out his grandfather's attic(who
just recently passed away), and comes across the book, stored hastily in a
cardboard box. Or something of that nature. Just my thoughts.
> "Look at the dust on these things," Franklin Said,
said
> "it makes it
> seem like I never cook." He slid a hand across his large belly. Franklin
> was a monsterous
> man, tipping the scale at over 360 pounds.
>
> Larry pushed aside his black covered books, moved away the white and red
> covers,
> the green covers, the dark blue covers, and finally stopped when a book
> caught his eyes.
What is he doing? I guess I don't know what the covers represent. What's
he cleaning? I think more scene setting is probably in order.
> It was bound in dark green leather with the words, "Whole cooking,"
> embossed in
> gold. Upon first inspection, Larry thought it might be real gold. It
> caught the overhead
> lights like real gold. He thought it couldn't be, nobody used real gold on
> cookbooks that
> were sold to average people.
I'm guessing that nobody uses real gold on ANY cookbooks heh. I'm thinking
you could probably end the sentence after "cookbooks."
Larry pulled the book out and place it on the
> kitchen table.
placed
> When he finished cleaning off the book shelf, he returned to the book on
> the
> table.
book book book book book. It's hard to write a story when a noun you need
to use over and over again is so crucial to the story, and there seems to be
no suitable synonyms for it lol. Believe me, I know. Still, I'm wondering
if there are other better ways to rephrase the sentences so we're not using
the same word over and over again. "Tome" came to mind, but it's not
exactly a tome, is it? So, I'm at a loss. Still, you might be able to
delete the word "book" before "shelf"; the context will make it clear what
it is you're talking about, me thinks.
>It was warm to the touch, like fresh towels straight from the dryer.
I like this image.
> "My god, it
> is heavy." He put it back on the table.
Uh.....he never removed it from the table in the first place.
>
> Larry reached out to open it when the book seemed to open on its own.
This sentence can be stronger. This is a major event, with a seemingly
ordinary book opening on its own, and the words should reflect that. You
dilute the strength of the verb by using "seemed" anyways. But, even if you
had "Larry reached out to open it when the book opened on its own", that
still could be stronger, An example of what I might do is this: "Larry
reached out to open the book when it opened by itself, the cover slamming
onto the table, the pages flipping of their own accord, to finally stop at
page 58." Hopefully, maybe that will spark some ideas.
> The lettering inside was exquisite script.
>
> "What's this?" He looked down at the book.
Cut everything after the line of dialogue. You don't have to tell us he
looked down at the book. What comes after will imply that he is indeed
looking down at the book.
>
> It had opened to a recipe for something called Tan's cake. It was then
> that the
> voice first spoke.
Again, you can cut everything after "cake." You make the action and the
surprise more immediate, if it was something like this:
It had opened to a recipe for something called Tan's cake.
"You really should make me," a female voice spoke from nowhere. "I'm great
for parties."
>
> "You really should make me. I'm great for parties." The voice was a velvet
> covered female rock waiting to crush its way to dominance.
This last line sounds like YOUR voice, and not the story's voice, if you get
my meaning.
>
> "What?" Larry's jaw dropped
>
> "Oh, nothing, just make me. Make me, Larry, I'm an excellent cake."
>
> White-faced, Larry slammed the book shut.
slight POV switch. How does he know his face is white? Now, when he runs
into the bathroom and looks into the mirror, then that would be an excellent
opportunity to tell us.
> Inside the medicine cabinet a long line of bottles awaited Larry. Lithium
> Carbonate, Risperidone, Lamotrigine, Bupropion, Venlafaxine, Fluvoxamine
> Paroxetine
> Nefazodone Carbamazepine, and Divalproex Sodium. It was a mix and match
> grab bag for
> Larry.
Er.....you either did reserach, or you are familiar with all of these
medicines. :-) I couldn't even read half of them.
> He shut the cabinet and took another look at himself. He straightened his
> clothing and splashed his face again.
>
> Back in the kitchen the book was still resting on the table.
Comma after "kitchen"
Larry picked
> it up,
> found it was still warm to the touch, and decided to open it again. He
> leafed through the
> pages and arrived back at Tan's Cake.
>
> Larry was in the backseat, as some force drove him. He pulled a piece of
> paper from the
> refrigerator and began to copy the ingredients down.
>
> It wasn't until Eighth Street that Larry finally gained control.
I'm wondering if this story would have more impact if the voice took him
over completely. IOW, have him turn to the Tan Cake page, and then, the
next line, have him be in his car, and wondering how he got there, with just
a vague feeling that he should drive to the supermarket.
He didn't
> stop
> though; he just drove on to the supermarket.
>
> Frankie's Farm Shop had the best food, almost all of it fresh and most of
> it straight
> from the farm. Frankie's sign was a neon pink monster with two cows
> holding a jump rope
> as Frankie's Farm Shop jumped over it.
Hmmm.....the above make it sound like the onnly things he can buy there are
items that come from a farm, but he buys a cake mix there.
A work of art to some, Larry laughed
> every time he
> saw the sign.
Insert "but" before "Larry"
>
> The shop was nearly dead. The automatic doors hissed open blasting Larry
> with
> near-artic winds.
Er....why?
Seriously, I know you put the directions in here to give the story some
authenticity(and I love the "unholy oil", the "deviled" eggs, the black
licorice, everything relating to evil), but it was dull to read. I got
bored. A better solution, is to insert this recipe throughout the story at
every stage of his cake making, instead of having it all up front. IOW,
have the list of ingredients here. Then, cut to him buying them. He goes
home, consults the recipe, then cut to the recipe of what he actually needs
to mix together, cut to him again, mixing those ingredients, cut to him
reading the recipe of what the oven needs to be set at, etc.., etc...,
etc... It WOULD break up the story more.
>
> Larry overpaid on the way out but he wasn't worried.
Heh. I'm surprised the cashier didn't chase after him. My wife is a
cashier, and here, if their tills are off by so much, they can get in
trouble, written up.
Although the voice no
> longer
> compelled him, he pushed himself forward. He had to see what was up with
> the cake. The
> ride home was pointlessly dull.
Heh. I like this last line.
>
> The smell of baking was in the air even before Larry began. The book
> cradled
> closely to his chest was humming softly. "Now mix in the eggs, Larry."
>
> "Sure." Larry pawed the eggs and dropped them into the bowl one at a time.
pawed?
> The book cradled in his right arm seemed to wrap around him in a friendly
> hug.
Dude, that's creepy. And I like it!
> Larry pushed back, almost dropping the book into the cake batter.
> The trees were covered in bright green leaves. Tiny blue flowers rested
> against
> the trees trunks. A small path of smooth white stones flows between two
> trees and out
> into the open. Larry first saw her there by the trees.
Nice description, but there's a tense change in here.
> "What are you looking at Larry, can't look at me? Don't you like what you
> see?
>
> Don't like blonds?"
Move this sentence up.
> Amy edged closer to Larry and leaned in. She grabbed him and kissed him.
> She
> tasted like cake.
If you really want a creepy image, since Amy came from the book, have her
taste like moldy pages. LOL. But that probably wouldn't work, because why
would he ever want to kiss her again?
> Just as she was leaning in again, an alarm shattered the perfect scene.
> Larry got off the couch and moved into the kitchen.
You must have wrote this in separate sittings, and got confused by the
location. He was outside, sitting on rocks.
The scent of baking cake
> filled the entire room. He opened the oven, the cake looked just right. He
> pulled them
> from the oven and placed them on the wire racks.
Them? I thought he only made one.
> "Oh, I assure you, Larry, I'm very real."
>
> "Would you go out with me?"
LOL! I love this last line! It is so.....human....and so out of touch with
reality, which fits Larry's character to a tee.
>
> Larry's cheeks reddened and he looked toward the floor, he noticed a speck
> of
> dirt. I should have swept better, he thought.
Weird wording. "...and he looked toward the floor, noticing a speck of
dirt."
>
> "I'd love to, Larry. I just can't until my job is done."
>
> "Your job?"
>
> "Yep, helping you reach your full potential. Helping you find your way."
>
> "And a cake will do that?"
>
> "It'll be the start, there is much more after that."
A start.
>
> Larry sat at the table leafing through the rest of the book, the other
> recipes
> seemed bland, or were scribbled in such a way that he couldn't read them.
A semi-colon in place of that first comma.
> Larry jumped, there was a knock at his door.
Rearange these sentences. Have the knock first, and THEN have him jump.
Nobody ever visited him, so it
> took
>
> him a few seconds to gather his wits. When he opened the door, he was very
> shocked at the
> site.
sight.
>
> Reverend Timmons was a pencil thin man with a huge bushy mustache. He had
> tiny
> eyes buried by large glasses with thick lenses.
Great description. My weakness. I tend to not describe my characters at
all.
>
> "I came when you called Larry, although I thought it was strange at first,
> I
> never refuse the kindness of my flock."
>
> "That's it Larry, let the Reverend have some cake. He's a good place to
> start. A
> fine man to make contact with, knowing him well will let you go far."
It's obvious(to me) from the context of who is speaking, but you might want
to put in here that it is Amy speaking.
> Larry found himself saying, "Reverend Timmons kiss my feet."
>
> "Now that's what I'm talking about."
LOL! Awesome!
> Another knock but this time, the door blew open on its own.
> It was Amy, her hair brown now. She wore a thin white sheet over body.
HER body.
> Amy's fair skin has taken on a red tinge, her eyes were dancing flames.
> Two small
> horns poked from her forehead.
I don't know what you intended, but this is a comical image to me. It might
be the two horns that are doing it, which is a much overused cliche. You
might be able to really horrifically describe her, if you think about it,
her skin bubbling and blistering, that type of thing.
>
> "Now you see the truth! Don't you like me?" Amy's body shifted again,
> blond hair,
> fair skin.
>
> "What are you?"
>
> "I'm your friend Larry, the only one you have."
>
>
> In Christian demonology, Amy is the 58th spirit, a President of Hell,
> which maketh one
> marvelous in astrologie and in all the liberall sciences, and procured
> excellent
> familiars *Wikipedia
I love this note at the end. I didn't realize you based Amy on any
Christian demonology. Purty cool of you to do that. Like I said, I love
the concept. But I think it can be cleaned up. You're not done yet.
Thanks for sharing. Take care.
Decaying Atheist
"Patrick" <pat...@sbcglobal.net> wrote in message
news:5ajco9F...@mid.individual.net...
>
Very valid points Patrick.
I suffered with this one to even get it to this stage.
I've been going through a lot of real world crap and I've found it to be
another excuse to neglect my writing.
I was up until a week ago a cashier too, so I know how crazy people
get about the till values being over or under. I figured since it was
such a small store it didn't matter as much. Although I didn't make
that clear, so I shouldn't expect others to know that.
Anyway, thanks again for the comments and I really do think
I can do better with this, given some time.
DA