"Timeless" - Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge - Oneshot Collection

"Be There"

Word count: 2772

Prompt: Apple cider

Notes:

• Russel Engel and Rosa Engel are OC's created by StorySnippets SaharaCastine and myself.

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"Set them in gently," Helen advised, showing Susan exactly what she meant with an exaggerated hand gesture, leaning over the pot full of water.

Biting her lip in intense focus, Susan held the large red apple slice in her tiny hand, and on her tiptoes, on the wooden stool, she gingerly plopped the piece into the stock pot sitting on the stove.

Swaying in the liquid slowly, the quarter of apple turned to its side and stayed, the water rippling around it.

Beside her, Mother nodded, "Good job." Then she placed five apple chunks of her own into the pot from the large pocket sewn onto her apron.

Susan watched and then turned around to look straight at her mother, "When will it be done?"

Chuckling, Helen moved to turn on the stove, "Not until dinner. It takes a while for the apples to boil."

Frowning, she impatiently jumped off of the stool and went to the spice cabinet to get the cinnamon and allspice.

"Here," She said, toddling over and handing the two spice jars to her mother.

Helen took them and read the labels to be sure before dumping in the selected amounts of the orange-tinted powders.

"Now, do you want it to be sweet or bitter?"

"Sweet." Susan wrinkled her nose at the thought of someone wanting it to be bitter, besides, sweeter meant more sugar and that was always better

"Alright," Stirring in a cup full of brimming white sugar that glistened in the fall morning light echoing through the window, Helen waved for Susan to come over.

Stumbling a bit, she cocked her head and scurried to her mother's side, grasping her skirt so she didn't fall, "What is it? What?"

"Climb onto that stool again, then you'll see."

Doing just that, Susan heaved herself up and then excitedly patted Mother so she would move and the view to the pot was promising.

Inside the pot, the water boiled and bubbled around the apples, turning brown and a little bit thicker than before. The smell was wonderful and she leaned nearer.

"Don't get too close," Mother warned, grasping the back of Susan to keep her from being burned.

"Sorry," She grinned up at Mother and patted her face; she was always keeping her safe.

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Cinnamon hovered in the room and stained the air with a fragrant scent. Oranges and reds decorated the kitchen in a cozy covering, allowing the space not to feel so lonely.

All though, Susan still felt a bit alone.

Silence chimed through the house and the only noise to be heard was the birds chirping outside in joy-filled songs.

But she didn't feel very joyful. With mother and father dead just last week everything felt wrong.

Tears welled in her eyes and slowly fell, dripping off her face and onto the single apple she held in her palm.

The stock pot on the stove sat empty, nothing inside, though there was supposed to be apple cider boiling, filling the cold atmosphere with warm drafts.