I tend to ramble when I write so I liked the challenge of my first flash fiction post (A Shot at Fame). Since my roommate is currently cooking and thus filling my room with frying pan aromas, I thought I’d try another flash fiction. However, for the heck of it, I bumped my allowed word count up to 150. This story is definitely pretty derivative of my first flash fiction, but whatever. I liked it. Also, I met a girl name Manian today and thought her name was cool, so I’ve used it here.
As she scrutinized the recipe with a ravenous finger, Manian could taste her culinary destiny. One day she’d be a renowned chef, expertly composing mouthwatering victuals for even the pickiest gourmets—or foodies, if you will. Manian wouldn’t. She had a taste for the classic delicacies and the classic reverence they commanded. She assembled the ingredients for coq au vin with all the love and hope that a mother might have when gathering her child’s supplies before his first day of school. One generous chicken, its succulent meat browned to perfection. Two bubbling hot cups of Cognac showering down with aromatic delight. Three clicks of her lighter, and the cooking lard she’d careless dripped ignited. Manian frantically threw the bag of flour onto the stove to combat the grease fire, then ran from the kitchen in a cloud of white dust.
On second thought, maybe she would try interior decorating.