Nursery Crimes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Inspired by 'The Queen Of Hearts'.

Chapter 8 (v.1) - Baking Day!

Submitted: April 06, 2018

Reads: 212

Comments: 8

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Submitted: April 06, 2018

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The Queen of Hearts,

She made some tarts,

All on a summer’s day.

The Knave of Hearts,

He stole those tarts,

And took them clean away.

 

The King of Hearts

Called for the tarts

And beat the Knave full sore.

The Knave of Hearts

Brought back those tarts

And vowed he’d steal no more.

 

Baking Day!

The Queen was adamant! In spite of the palace cook’s protestations, today she wanted to do some baking. It was ages since she had been allowed to cook, and still had fond memories of hours spent in the kitchen with her grandmother. That was all in the past, of course. All before her own mother had caught the eye of royalty and changed their lives.

“But, your majesty, you are the Queen! You can’t spend your time with your hands in flour and dough!” The kitchen was the domain of the cook. If she wasn’t working there, where was she to go?

The Queen took a small bag of coins from around her waist. From the bag, she tipped two gold ones out and gave them to the cook. “Go and treat yourself to something nice. For all the years that you’ve been serving us delicious food we’ve not shown enough appreciation.”

Well, what could she say? The cook could hardly refuse, and those coins to her were a small fortune. “Well, thank you, your Majesty. I’ll go and visit my sister, take her a present or two. If you’re sure....”

The Queen nodded, the cook curtsied, and the lady of royalty found herself alone inside the palace kitchen. She busied herself selecting ingredients; she knew exactly what she was going to bake – tarts – her husband’s favourites! It didn’t take long to mix the pastry, but now for the filling. This one was going to be extra special. She took the bottle from her pocket, a tiny one; added just a few drops to the strawberry mixture. How convenient that her chosen poison was flavoured of, and smelled like, almonds. It fitted with the recipe perfectly. Soon the kitchen was full of the smell of delicious baking. Her husband, the king, would not be able to resist.

At last they were ready to remove from the oven. She set them out to cool, and unlike royalty, she washed and cleaned up behind herself. All she had to do now was wait until tea time, and by night she would be free.

On the return of the cook, the Queen gave instructions that the tarts were to be left for her husband, but the cook was confused. When she entered the kitchen there was no sign of even one tart, let alone a plate of them. Perhaps the Queen had put them safely inside a tin or something.

Out in the Palace yard, there was a commotion. People were running here, there and everywhere and the palace physician was summoned. The prince had been discovered near one of the barns, an empty plate beside him. “Dead,” said the physician. “Poisoned, from the look of it.”

Accusatory eyes were turned to the cook. “It was not me, your Majesty. The Queen had a hankering for baking this day.”

The Queen stood with tears running down her cheeks, her guilt clear for all to see. If only her son had not stolen those tarts, they could have lived free of the tyrannical King.

 

 


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