Creative Writing, Prose

Taste

Something I wrote for a Creative Writing course I’m in, the prompt was to slow down time and describe a 10-second action, no inner monologue or dialogue allowed.

The layers are perfectly defined: dark brown, white, red, light and dark brown again and there are no smudges between them. The smell, a sweet cacophony of aromas, speaks of Heaven itself; the fresh scent of ripe strawberries signals the beginning of spring; the dark chocolate gives it elegance and maturity, and the caramel reminds her of her childhood, sticky hands and smiles in her native Argentina.

The little, silver fork, engraved with the now familiar heraldry, cuts the piece without efforts, as if there was no resistance, and she daintily picks up the little piece with it, guiding it to her mouth, her rosy, plump lips opening slightly to let the morsel pass, and her small teeth, even and white, barely show as she takes the bite from the expensive piece of cutlery. She closes her mouth, and her eyes follow on their own accord.

A sigh escapes her while all the flavors invade her mouth, the sweet, rich and creamy dessert invading her taste buds and she gladly surrenders. As she lets her tongue explore all the textures – creamy, soft, so, so good – she inadvertently lets out a moan, which in other situation, and in other company, would have been considered sinful, and maybe in this situation, it would be considered sinful, too.

She took a deep breath and swallowed, slowly, leisurely, taking all the time she could, to enjoy the taste, commit it to memory, and put the fork on the plate, next to the delicious piece of cake. She moved onto the next sample, ready for another test.

It’d look like this (but this one is missing the caramel)Fudge-Lovers-Strawberry-Truffle-Cake-543x407-custom

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