Squirrel Cakes
by Layton Smith
Layton Smith lives in the suburbs with his beautiful girlfriend and floofy dog. He enjoys chess, electronics repair, and shouting at birds.
Aren’t children wonderful? Their gullibility and fragility remind me just how tentative life can be. Their guileless smiles and unrestrained laughter transport me back to my own childhood, filled with endless summers spent exploring the woods around my home—a time when everything felt new, and adventures awaited in every glen. Truly, children are a blessing.
One day, two kids—maybe five and seven—approached my door. The poor souls! They claimed their father, a lumberjack, had abandoned them in the woods. Cold and hungry, they approached my house. It looked to their simple gazes to be made of candy and sweet bread.
They must have been very lost indeed to end up at my door. Have the elders forgotten that I am out here? Do they no longer tell my stories around the fire? No matter now, the children are here and there is work to be done.
“I can see you are hungry, but we can’t eat my house because then I would have nowhere to live! But I know a recipe for a special treat called squirrel cakes. Do you kids know what squirrels like to eat?”
“Acorns!” they exclaimed. I patted their heads, praising their cleverness.
“Now go find a big oak tree and bring me back some acorns so I can make you a special treat.”
With a full heart and a twinkle in my eye, I prepared for their return. Once we gathered all the ingredients, we ground the acorns and drizzled the meal with honey. We molded the meal into cakes and waited for them to dry near the fire. The younger one shaped her cakes like little squirrel tails, and I complimented her creativity.
As they savored their cakes, their laughter filled the room, a sweet melody in the evening’s quiet. They offered to share their cakes with me. Delighting in their innocent joy, I replied with a hearty chuckle, “No, squirrel cakes are only for children.”
I made a pallet in front of the fire and watched them drift peacefully off to sleep. But as the night wore on, their coughs grew harsher, mingling with retching sounds that echoed in the stillness. Blood trickled from the little one’s chin, pooling on the floor.
I stroked their backs and said, “There there, my little squirrels. It will all be over soon. Try and get some rest.”
By dawn, the children lay silent, their breathing stilled, their bodies pale and motionless. I sat in my chair, gazing at them, their once-vibrant faces now serene.
Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over their still forms. A hunger rose within me, a yearning I could no longer ignore. They had brought such joy and magic into my home, and now they lay before me, still and beautiful.
I admired my windfall with a full heart. I will eat and return to some semblance of my former self. No longer waiting for prey to blunder into my web. Soon I will go out and hunt.
THE END