Work Text:
All was peaceful outside. Snow drifted softly down from the heavens, blanketing the earth. Frost etched its way in nonsensical patterns on the window panes.
It was a stark contrast to what was going on inside the house.
“Stop running away!” A girl screeched. She lunged across the countertop of the kitchen island at the latest cookie she’d cut, narrowly missing as it jumped off the counter.
The gingerbread man’s landing on the tile floor was punctuated with a slap. He was still doughy. “No can do. You’re gonna cook me!”
The girl rounded the island and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to cook you, silly.” The gingerbread sighed and slumped on the ground, doughy body disfiguring as he rested his back against a chair leg. This gave the girl time to pick him up and put him on a small cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. “It’s called baking.”
The gingerbread man’s head shot up, somehow staring at the girl without any eyes.
As the girl checked the recipe for how long to put the cookie in for, the gingerbread man frantically tried to stand up. But his body was sticking to the parchment paper.
“Ten minutes. Okay.” She steered the pan towards the oven and opened the door. The gingerbread man felt the wave of heat already, singeing his dough.
“No no no no no don’t put me in there!”
“You’re the last cookie, I have to.” And she placed the pan on the middle rack.
As the gingerbread man started to heat up, he was able to pull himself from the parchment paper. Just before the girl closed the oven door, the cookie made a desperate leap from the oven and…
Didn’t make it.
He hit the oven window with his entire flat body and sort of stuck there. He slid down a little and burned to a crisp.
The girl crouched down and looked through the door at his blackened figure, shaking her head in disappointment. “Maybe I should stop making gingerbread men.”