[Supposedly] Spooky Stories: The Lost Cinnamon Bread

The breeze carried the scent of fresh cinnamon fry bread through the air. The seller had positioned himself at just the right place: The nutty-sweet aroma would waft from one end of the town to the other. You could follow it right up to his shop, where a long line waited for one of his oversized treats.

Konrad and Nell found another vendor, less known for his bread and with a menu that featured layered nut bars and long twisted sticks with chocolate swirled in a spiral on the outside. Some even had creams inside.

They took their treats from his daughter, her smile radiant and grateful. The entire mood of this vendor exceeded the other, not laced in greed, but with hope.

Nell bit into his bread. It was unique, something he would never tire of.

The pair headed to the desert, the sun hidden behind a haze. The sky dimmed as they walked, a cloud blocking their view.

Their mission was to find a cave, just on the outskirts of town. It was hidden behind a swampy pool, the water shallow and a likely harbor of something foreboding and ominous.

Just as they headed into the dry high desert, through the thicket, a cry pierced the silence.

Thousands of voices coalesced into one scream, incoherent except their fear.

Konrad’s hand fell to his sword and he turned back toward the town.

Nell protected the bread.

The two wove their way back to town as the screams trailed into silence. The haze had obscured the sun entirely, and had cast a shadow over them.

Konrad held his sword as they stepped into the empty market. The fountain was still running, the water splashing onto the last remaining footprints of children who were playing there just moments before.

As they stepped further into the town Nell retched at the stench of rotting food. His body convulsed, and he dropped the bread. His stomach squeezed in on itself as a fish coated in milky mildew slipped from a display onto Konrad’s boot.

Konrad stepped away.

“How has the food soured so quickly?” Konrad asked, a caved in apple held on the tip of his sword.

“I don’t know,” Nell replied. “Based on the rate of food consumption, I only ate ten minutes worth of bread.” He glanced back at the dust coated bread, a green fuzz coating the top of it already.

“We need to leave,” Konrad declared.

Nell was about to agree, when a single voice shrieked.

They turned their heads toward the depths of town, where the sound had emanated from. Konrad flicked the apple from his sword and held it steady.

Now, Nell too drew his sword.

Another voice shrieked from a vending booth where they had chosen not to get their fry bread.

Then another, from deeper in town.

When the voices settled, a sound as soft as a kitten’s meow echoed on the breeze. “Help me,” it cried.

Nell and Konrad shared a glance, then stepped deeper into the town.

“Hello?” Nell called out. “Where are you?”

There was silence. They continued walking into town, searching for a light in a window that would guide them.

They had all burned out, a blackened echo of their light on each bulb.

“Please! Help me!” the voice called again.

They searched buildings, and rooms, the voice their only beacon, more urgent as they moved through the town.

The voice screamed. “Help!”

Konrad shoved a door open with his boot. They entered swords raised. Like every other room this one was empty. The voice cried out. “They’re coming!”

They pushed open a bedroom door. The voice burst through the air into silence. There was no one there.

Not a sound.

Not a body, nor a footprint on the dust coated floor.

“It’s time to go,” Konrad insisted. He pulled a travel pack from his pocket and held Nell’s hand.

The travel pack fell to the ground and rolled away, leaving a distinct trail across the floor.

“Help,” a voice called in the distance. “Please help me.”