Sugar: Write something so sweet, it makes your teeth hurt.
Author note: Another piece for my Dystopian Fiction Project, you might want to read the other pieces first. Let me know what you think in the comments below or on social media!
Sitting hunched around the fire, he watched his Father carefully working on the cases lock. His Father had told him stories about something called Christmas, the excitement of opening wrapped presents with family, not knowing what was inside, this must be just like Christmas had been.
They had found the suitcase half buried in the forest they’d been trekking through, it was only by chance, if he hadn’t stubbed his toe on the corner, it would have remained hidden. He had seen plenty of cases in his time, but they had all been open, their contents long stolen, now belonging to new owners.
He had wanted to smash it open there and then, but his Father thought they could salvage the lock – it would be useful to have somewhere safe to keep their things.
Only the crackling of the fire interrupted the otherwise silent night, they hadn’t seen another soul in weeks.
The lock snapped open, he smiled up at his Father, and was pleased to see him smiling back. He leant in over the case, eager to see what treasure lay within.
The top layer of fabric turned out to be a jacket, a soft cloth in a green to match the trees around them. He watched as his father held it up for size.
‘It will look good on you Dad!’
His father just smiled in response, he didn’t talk much these days.
They continued to unpack the treasures carefully, some shirts, a pair of trousers and a hat. Though much too big, he asked to keep this for himself, he had always wanted one.
Once the clothes had been removed, he watched a look of joy appear on his father’s face as he tenderly reached into the suitcase. He lifted out a small packet, long and thin, the wrapper rustled in his fingers.
‘Son, you’re in a for a treat.’
‘What is it?’
‘Here’ his father opened the packet and broke off a brown square before passing it to him. He took it carefully in his hands. The square was solid, but it started to stick to his fingers. ‘Eat it, before it melts.’
He placed the small square in his mouth. It immediately started to melt, smooth liquid, sweeter than any berries he had ever tasted. He tried not to swallow it, wanting it to last as long as possible, but his mouth kept watering and it started to disappear down his throat.
‘Dad…what was that?’ he gleamed at his father.
‘That, my son…was chocolate.’
Prompt taken from Think Written: 365 Creative Writing Prompts
Image taken from Pixabay (Free Stock Photos)