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"You need to add some marjoram."

"Not for this. What it needs is cardamom."

Shuka was a soft-spoken girl; no one ever heard her raise her voice, and she hated it when others seemed angry with her. But she knew her culinary arts. They were the only thing that gave her confidence.

Mrabko frowned, then shrugged and reached for the clay pot.

The figure stirred and moaned, straining against the wire that bound him to the slow-turning spit. Shuka smashed him in the temple again with her rock.

Consciousness meant fear - and that would only spoil the meat.

3 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Horrorshow about 8 years ago

    Great to get another Chris Walker drabble after a two month absence! Welcome back, CW. :-)

  • avatar

    Rodindeadpan about 8 years ago

    True so true, fear really does spoil the meat.

  • avatar

    Chris Walker about 8 years ago

    Thanks for the kinds comments all - much appreciated! Been away for far too long; looks like I have a few hundred drabbles to read now :-)

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