“Once in a small town called Twondo a young baker prepared for a festival day, the festival was to celebrate the marriage of the towns lord and his second wife. The first wife was rumored to have disappeared one night and had never returned, leavening her four unlucky daughters. Town’s folk blessed the new bride, praying that she wouldn’t be cursed like the first wife and would produce a heir. The baker was quite exited because he had been selected to bake the wedding cake for the lord. So he started to prepare to head to the market and get the ingredients. He walked down the cobblestone street, weaving between people. The sidewalk was reflected on the glass windows of various shops, in front of him was a slow old couple. As he slowed down to not trail behind them impolitely something in a shop window caught his eye.” I paused my story to look away from the wavering blaze and glance at my listeners before turning back to the burning light in the hearth and continuing the tale.

 “The sight in the window or I should say reflection off the window was of a beautiful woman, she had golden hair in tight curls tied upon her head, a thin figure dressed in a flowing colorful gown. The baker simply starred at her while still walking. Soon the window ended, and the baker tripped on the old couple in front of him. After apologizing to the couple he turned around to meet the stunning lady, only to find the street behind him empty of anyone who resembled her. So he pushed her to the back of his mind and continued on to his errands.

“After buying his ingredients, he started heading home. As he walked through the town center he glanced at the statue of the original town founder. A top hat was chiseled on the head of a stone man with a long beard, his trench coat hung heavy on the still figure. In the corner of his eyesight the baker saw the beautiful woman again walking towards him. He turned just in time to see her orange eyes with blond eyelashes and rosy cheeks, as she ran right into him. He tumbled to the ground but quickly recovered and grabbed his bags off the floor before turning to a empty space that she stood moments before.

 “His two run ins with the lady confused him deeply but it wasn’t something to worry over, so he let it go and headed back home to start baking. The wedding cake was ordered to be 10 layers and enough for the whole town. The baker began making the cake in the afternoon and took only two breaks for tea and dinner. The cooking process passed quickly and soon it was night time approaching midnight. The baker cleaned up for the night, set on the fact he would be able to finish baking and icing the cake before the celebrations the day after tomorrow. He climbed the stairs and started closing the drapes on his windows as he saw a lone figure walking down the empty street. The figure approached his door, and he could make out fine blond curls framing a perfect face. She knocked twice then once more, he stumbled down the narrow stairs and swung open his door. The dark street was empty once again leaving no traces anyone had stood in front of his door.”

 I stretched my back and neck, looking at the two travelers and my parents who waited for me to continue completely fascinated with the story so far. “Then a sound erupted in the kitchen. The baker rushed into the room only to find nothing amiss, except for and open window and a pan on the floor. The baker hadn’t opened the window, but he blamed his forget fullness on sleep deprivation as he closed the window and slunk back up to bed.

 “The day of the celebration arrived, and the cake was complete. The baker had already sent it up to where it was displayed on the food buffets. The party had recently started, there was a speech from the newly wed lord then dancing began. Town folk streamed on and off the dance floor and ate plates of dinner and dessert. The colorful dresses and shirts of men and women blurred together in the festive lights hung above. The baker stood on the edge of the crowd watching people eat his amazing cake. He suddenly felt hot breath on his shoulder but didn’t turn around yet. A calming voice filled his ears with a warning, ‘Don’t eat the cake’ it whispered. A pair of soft lips kissed the back of his neck, but when he turned to look at who it was nobody was there. A ruffle of fabric from bright colored dress caught his eye as the beautiful woman disappeared into the crowd.

 “The baker listened to her and didn’t eat the cake he had made. The leftover cake was distributed to the towns folk who could not make it to the festival, everyone praised the baker for the amazing treat. He felt immensely proud of his contribution to the festival, and he thought about it as he sunk into slumber that night. The next morning, he was awakened by screams and cries for help, as he ran out into the street, he saw chaos. The cobblestone path was littered with dead bodies and vomit, green people were tossing up their own guts. Ones who were in less severe sickness were calling for help. Some were dragging the bodies out of their houses and locking themselves away to wait for help. The baker ran into his own home and barricaded the door against any survivors seeking help. He stood in the kitchen making breakfast when he heard footsteps behind him. Swirling around he came face to face with the beautiful woman that he had never been able to catch. She smiled sweetly at him and took more steps towards him. He saw her prepare to embrace him and reached his own arms out to hug her. He wrapped his arms around her small shoulders and drew her close, but he suddenly felt pain searing through his torso. He released her and looked down. A dagger was wedged in between his ribs, piercing his organs. The beautiful woman smiled and turned, walking out of the room. The man ran into the hallway only to see the door still barricaded. He limped to the window and started at the woman as she climbed onto one of the gypsy wagons and the caravan left the town. The baker dropped to the floor coughing up blood, he leaned his head against the cool pane and accepted his fate.”