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The Winter Room
Avey and Sarah were reprimanded for using outside voices in the hall. If it happened again, the proctor told them, there would be punishment. The orphan siblings continued their trip to the kitchen, hushed, to pester the cook.
“Cook! Cook!” yelled the two in unison.
The cook was skinny and jovial. She had been cooking and baking for the orphanage for longer than most of the teachers and caretakers had taught or disciplined or maybe lived. She had a toothless smile that sparkled dully with fake gold. That sparkle made her dark skin seem darker and to shine a bit, like a lake beneath only a little moonlight. The cook always smiled and welcomed the children with a fresh cookie or pasty when these particular orphans came to visit. In many ways she was a sort of surrogate mother to many children, though neither she nor anyone else at the orphanage permitted such thought. Students weren’t supposed to be in the kitchen, but every year there were those that visited.
“Hello, children,” spoke the cook. Her voiced was warmly soft.
“Hi, Cookie,” said Sarah, the younger.
“Can we have a treat?” asked the boy.
The cook smiled her sparkle smile and shook her head with compassion. She rubbed her floury hands in her apron.
“It’s not a treat if you can have one whenever you want, is it child?”
“No, Cookie,” replied the children.
“I’ll tell you, I have some fresh icing chilling in the icebox to top these here hot-cross buns.” The children watched as the cook pulled baking tin after baking tin of warm rolls from the oven behind her. “I suppose if you children fetch it for me, I could let you split one while they are fresh and warm. Long as you don’t tell no one I gave you dessert before your supper.”
The children nodded and turned, sister after brother, to the icebox. The opened the larger door and walked in. Around them were shelves and shelves of vegetables and bread, thawing turkeys and shaved beefs. They walked between the shelves seeking the cook’s pastry bag of icing. They could have walked miles when they came to a wall painted as brick. When Avey pushed, a door slid open on rickety wheels. Sarah crouched and hid behind her brother’s slight frame.
Through the door they saw a dark and snowy forest. The sky was clear and speckled dark. The children cooed at the site. As they stepped forward, their shoes made crunching sounds in the snow.
“Children!” The cook was calling them from the door. “Children! What’s taking so long? Come out of there now. You’re going to catch yourselves chilled and lose Old Cookie her job.” The siblings returned, and joined the cook in the kitchen.
“What are children thinking, staying in that icebox so long?” The cook was not angered but worried. “The icings right here by the door,” she explained while swing open the door again and pulling her pastry bag from the nearest shelf.
Sarah coughed a little cough.
“You see. You went and caught yourself sick. Now run along back to your friends, that’s enough time in the kitchen for the likes of you. The cook ushered the children to the door, and returned to her duties. She drew some icing on a bun.
“Wait children, you forgot your treat.”
The children turned with a smile and accepted the gift together with one hand each. The cook offered another sparkle smile and patted their rears out the kitchen’s door.
“Where was it?” Sarah asked her brother.
“I think it was somewhere far away, or maybe very close, like the school goes inside out.”
This scared Sarah and she began to cry. Avey handed his sister the remains of his bun half, and she smiled. They continued down the hall. Both the children’s minds wandered the winter room as they walked the hall towards the dorms.
“I wonder if there are monsters in there?” Avey asked his sister. She shrieked. A proctor heard and again they were reprimanded for volume of voice. Her reproaches came through gnashed teeth, while the thumping of her palm against the copy of Nicomachean Ethics she was carrying rattled their little hearts. As punishment they were to spend the evening period scrubbing the dinner dishware.
“At least Cookie will be there,” Avey consoled his sister offhandedly. Thoughts of revisiting the winter room already consumed his mind. He hardly spoke through the meal, answering his sister’s many questions tersely and never really listening to her words.
“Children,” the cook exclaimed through a slight sparkle smile when the brother and sister arrived with grins of their own. “You really oughtn’t visit so much. You should make some friends, the both of you. And I do hope your not expecting a treat after just finishing dessert.”
Her smile fell to a frown when they told her they came for punishment. She outfitted them with gloves and brush, and after telling them how to scrub properly she set them upon the pots. They scrubbed and scrubbed. Sarah teared but did not cry. Avey’s mind continued to wander the winter room.
“We could sneak in there,” he told his sister.
“No,” she whispered back, “What if there’s monsters?”
“They’d be nice.”
The cook stepped behind them. “Now you children must be quiet.”
“What’s in the icebox, Cookie?” Avey asked.
“Don’t be foolish child. There’s foodstuffs in the icebox.”
“What else? What’s farther?” he returned.
“The dining hall. No more talking, back to scrubbing. Need I remind the two of you that you’re here as punishment for being naughty.” She clapped her hands rapidly to get them back to work.
“No monsters?” the girl innocently asked of the cook. Her face held fear that the cook recognized.
“Child,” she replied, her smile sparkling again, “you are safe here. No monsters live in my icebox, or anywhere else in my kitchen. We all have our own little worlds, and this is mine.” The cook walked off wiping her hands, leaving the children to their scrubbing.
“Come on.” Avey grabbed his sister by the hand when the cook had exited view, and the two slunk through the icebox door. They rushed through the aisles of produce and food, pushing on the painted brick wall that swung on rickety wheels. They entered the winter room and it was cold, but no more than the icebox had been. The snow crunched beneath their shoes. Avey yelled and there was no echo. They walked arm in arm, deeper into the speckled dark.
When the cook noticed the children had left the sink she called for them. She entered the icebox where they had lingered before, but they weren’t there. She called for them again. She alerted the caregivers, who searched the school. The caregiver’s alerted the police, who searched the town. But the children had found a place of their own and were not to be found.
- Sean Clark circa 2006
Avey and Sarah were reprimanded for using outside voices in the hall. If it happened again, the proctor told them, there would be punishment. The orphan siblings continued their trip to the kitchen, hushed, to pester the cook.
“Cook! Cook!” yelled the two in unison.
The cook was skinny and jovial. She had been cooking and baking for the orphanage for longer than most of the teachers and caretakers had taught or disciplined or maybe lived. She had a toothless smile that sparkled dully with fake gold. That sparkle made her dark skin seem darker and to shine a bit, like a lake beneath only a little moonlight. The cook always smiled and welcomed the children with a fresh cookie or pasty when these particular orphans came to visit. In many ways she was a sort of surrogate mother to many children, though neither she nor anyone else at the orphanage permitted such thought. Students weren’t supposed to be in the kitchen, but every year there were those that visited.
“Hello, children,” spoke the cook. Her voiced was warmly soft.
“Hi, Cookie,” said Sarah, the younger.
“Can we have a treat?” asked the boy.
The cook smiled her sparkle smile and shook her head with compassion. She rubbed her floury hands in her apron.
“It’s not a treat if you can have one whenever you want, is it child?”
“No, Cookie,” replied the children.
“I’ll tell you, I have some fresh icing chilling in the icebox to top these here hot-cross buns.” The children watched as the cook pulled baking tin after baking tin of warm rolls from the oven behind her. “I suppose if you children fetch it for me, I could let you split one while they are fresh and warm. Long as you don’t tell no one I gave you dessert before your supper.”
The children nodded and turned, sister after brother, to the icebox. The opened the larger door and walked in. Around them were shelves and shelves of vegetables and bread, thawing turkeys and shaved beefs. They walked between the shelves seeking the cook’s pastry bag of icing. They could have walked miles when they came to a wall painted as brick. When Avey pushed, a door slid open on rickety wheels. Sarah crouched and hid behind her brother’s slight frame.
Through the door they saw a dark and snowy forest. The sky was clear and speckled dark. The children cooed at the site. As they stepped forward, their shoes made crunching sounds in the snow.
“Children!” The cook was calling them from the door. “Children! What’s taking so long? Come out of there now. You’re going to catch yourselves chilled and lose Old Cookie her job.” The siblings returned, and joined the cook in the kitchen.
“What are children thinking, staying in that icebox so long?” The cook was not angered but worried. “The icings right here by the door,” she explained while swing open the door again and pulling her pastry bag from the nearest shelf.
Sarah coughed a little cough.
“You see. You went and caught yourself sick. Now run along back to your friends, that’s enough time in the kitchen for the likes of you. The cook ushered the children to the door, and returned to her duties. She drew some icing on a bun.
“Wait children, you forgot your treat.”
The children turned with a smile and accepted the gift together with one hand each. The cook offered another sparkle smile and patted their rears out the kitchen’s door.
“Where was it?” Sarah asked her brother.
“I think it was somewhere far away, or maybe very close, like the school goes inside out.”
This scared Sarah and she began to cry. Avey handed his sister the remains of his bun half, and she smiled. They continued down the hall. Both the children’s minds wandered the winter room as they walked the hall towards the dorms.
“I wonder if there are monsters in there?” Avey asked his sister. She shrieked. A proctor heard and again they were reprimanded for volume of voice. Her reproaches came through gnashed teeth, while the thumping of her palm against the copy of Nicomachean Ethics she was carrying rattled their little hearts. As punishment they were to spend the evening period scrubbing the dinner dishware.
“At least Cookie will be there,” Avey consoled his sister offhandedly. Thoughts of revisiting the winter room already consumed his mind. He hardly spoke through the meal, answering his sister’s many questions tersely and never really listening to her words.
“Children,” the cook exclaimed through a slight sparkle smile when the brother and sister arrived with grins of their own. “You really oughtn’t visit so much. You should make some friends, the both of you. And I do hope your not expecting a treat after just finishing dessert.”
Her smile fell to a frown when they told her they came for punishment. She outfitted them with gloves and brush, and after telling them how to scrub properly she set them upon the pots. They scrubbed and scrubbed. Sarah teared but did not cry. Avey’s mind continued to wander the winter room.
“We could sneak in there,” he told his sister.
“No,” she whispered back, “What if there’s monsters?”
“They’d be nice.”
The cook stepped behind them. “Now you children must be quiet.”
“What’s in the icebox, Cookie?” Avey asked.
“Don’t be foolish child. There’s foodstuffs in the icebox.”
“What else? What’s farther?” he returned.
“The dining hall. No more talking, back to scrubbing. Need I remind the two of you that you’re here as punishment for being naughty.” She clapped her hands rapidly to get them back to work.
“No monsters?” the girl innocently asked of the cook. Her face held fear that the cook recognized.
“Child,” she replied, her smile sparkling again, “you are safe here. No monsters live in my icebox, or anywhere else in my kitchen. We all have our own little worlds, and this is mine.” The cook walked off wiping her hands, leaving the children to their scrubbing.
“Come on.” Avey grabbed his sister by the hand when the cook had exited view, and the two slunk through the icebox door. They rushed through the aisles of produce and food, pushing on the painted brick wall that swung on rickety wheels. They entered the winter room and it was cold, but no more than the icebox had been. The snow crunched beneath their shoes. Avey yelled and there was no echo. They walked arm in arm, deeper into the speckled dark.
When the cook noticed the children had left the sink she called for them. She entered the icebox where they had lingered before, but they weren’t there. She called for them again. She alerted the caregivers, who searched the school. The caregiver’s alerted the police, who searched the town. But the children had found a place of their own and were not to be found.
- Sean Clark circa 2006
