I´m just a cookie
"Would life ever be sweet again?" I wondered. Sweet as rice crispies covered in chocolate and colorful sprinkles.
Papa Milano used to call mother that, his sweet Crispy, even though she is a butter cookie. He was simple too, but in the inside, he was sweet and kind. But papa isn´t here anymore. So mother cries almost every day, and well, everyone knows what happens when a cookie gets wet. She is falling apart literally, crump by crump. I fear she might end up disappearing one day. Already there's a crack that goes from the right of her forehead to her nose bridge. It’s slowly cracking open like a cracker.
By the way, I'm Mallow. And yes, I am half cookie and half marshmallow. Living in the Pecan lands isn't easy. Nothing is what it seems. Not all the persons that walk the streets of this town are actual cookies. They just pretend to be and we let them.
My papa isn't dead if you were wondering. He just… he had to leave to the Icing land. Not because he wanted, or at least that's what he told us. The world has turned sour rather than sweeter as I grow up. I was incredulous to believe that most of the cookies in this town are made with salt. You know, the rocky crystals that make you scrunch up your whole face when tasting just a small portion. Life has led me to believe less in what my sprinkled eyes can see.
He wants us to go with him somewhere around the time sugar cookies start glazing their faces with spider webs and jack-o lanterns.
Although papa writes in his letters that the Icing lands aren’t as full of icing anymore, in my opinion, it will be a better home than here.
Cookies live in fear here. There´s no freedom or peace. If you go out to the park or the grocery store, you have to be careful not to look "them" in the eye. I'm talking about the brownies. If this text were to end up in their hands, they would surely turn me over to the Tasters, or even worst, I could end up being cracked into pieces they would pack in a tiny box and send it to my mother! That´s what happened to one of our neighbor’s son.
So please, whoever gets this message, don't share it with anyone. Just keep it.
My father had to leave the town because of them. They're always thirsty for cookie filling and were planning on breaking him to pieces themselves.
Why? I don't know. My father has always been a good cookie. Why would anyone want to break him?
Mother says it's just the way they work (the brownies). The cruel reality is that the Donut Officers are with them, and my father wasn't able to ask for their help.
And you want to know what's even more horrible about this? Some time ago before my father left, a cookie wafer who was tired of the donuts had gathered a group with all sort of cookies. He had the intention of taking down the Tasters. He wanted a revolution.
But it never came. The wafer was killed shortly after the brownies let him think he had won one stunt. They offered more flour to the rest of the group, so those cookies are too working with them.
Sadly most of the Pecan town doesn't know this. The cookies that live here think that those wafers and s´mores that stand at each corner out in the streets are here to defend us.
I have two little brothers, Chunk and Chip. I don't wish for them to grow up here, in the middle of a battlefield filled with crumbs and jam filling that covers the streets.
The Icing lands might not be our homeland, but at least there, the Tasters keep themselves at bay. Yet this doesn't make mother any less mournful about leaving the land in which she was baked. I understand that, but not why everyone wants to stay here without making a change.
Leaving will not be easy either. My little family and I plan every day. We need to be ready if we want to outsmart the Tasters so they can let us go to meet with papa. There are two ways we can go to the Icing lands. One is with a special permission and the other way is sneaking by, disguising ourselves with royal icing.
Since mother is an honest cookie we will try out the first way. I really hope in the name of the baker that made us that we get that permission.
However, in the end, I'm just a cookie. Meanwhile, there's nothing I can do but wait. I can't protect my family from "them" or anything at all.
I can just hope and keep wondering if life will ever be sweet again.
Image Credit »