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It’s the prompt! I swear! I just reeaaally wanted to try to write in this setting, don’t know if I did well.

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The warm smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. Noel breathed in the faint taste of melted butter and baked bread. The bakery was still, caught between the lull of the sunrise, devoid of all customers but them. The dusty floorboards creaked softly as they stepped towards the counter. The place looked abandoned and old-timey, but Noel felt the fire running. They leaned against the rough wooden counter, gently brushing off floating dust. They waited, searching for some way to get the baker’s attention.

They called out warily, "Hello?..."

"Just a moment!" Rang a silvery voice from behind the wall, sectioned near the counter. A tall woman appeared from the doorframe, rushing up to the wood slab and drumming her fingertips against it. She wiped her hands on her apron, which were covered in flour and what was most likely jelly. “What can I get you?"

"Well. It’s my younger sisters birthday today. I was hoping to get a cake." Noel responded, scuffing their shoes on the floor.

"Oh of course! " the woman said, clapping her hands together, "What a nice thought! We've plenty for you to chose from." She smiled widely and gestured toward the thin glass display.

Noel bent down, examining their options. The various pastries seemed to glitter, singing to be chosen. Regretting not having breakfast, Noel eyed the muffins eagerly. Then they remembered the task at hand.

"Do you make custom cakes, by chance?”

“Oh!” Said the baker, who let out a abrupt, sharp laugh that sliced through the air, “For a special occasion, sure. What type of cake would you like?”

Feeling a bit awkward, Noel looked down. They tugged on their sweater, “She likes vanilla. Maybe her name, Maggie, on it?"

The baker figited with her long blond hair, tightening her ponytail. Her face was resting in an expression Noel couldn’t place, but it was a bit unnerving. Suddenly it contorted back into a smile.

“I will get right on that! Anything else you’d like?” She asked.

“No thanks.”

The baker flashed her teeth and darted back into the kitchen. Noel marvelled silently some more at all the items. Eventually, amidst the clatter of pans and slamming of drawers, she returned.

“Would you come back with me to finish the decorating?” She questioned, her voice sweet with powdered sugar, “To run it by you?”

Noel thought this was a bit odd, “Are you sure I can?”

“Of course! I own this bakery, after all. Come on in.”

They trailed behind her, rubbing their palms on their jeans anxiously. Something felt a bit off to them. The kitchen smelled even better, on the surface. It was calm and inviting, but Noel immediately noticed the underlying scent of burnt butter and sour milk. The scene itself was what you’d expect. Drying frosting all over the furniture, sprinkles spilling out of jars. Rolling pins tossed aside and flour coating the walls.

The baker lead them over to a scraggly table. Deserted bowls, half empty bags, and a container of eggs laid next to the greatest cake they ever saw. Noel's eyes lit up. It was square, spongy, and perfect for their sister.

The baker clicked her worn boots together, “Good. You like it. I’ll go get the frosting.” She twisted around and headed for some drawers in the far corner.

Noel scraped some frosting off an excess chair with their fingernail. They noticed fresh jelly on the table, and tried to clean it up. It was awfully liquidy for jelly, and didn’t smell similar at all. All of the treasures of the bakery began to make their stomach churn. They tried to calm themselves, steadying against a shelf. They picked up scattered sprinkles and examined them. They looked like pills. Noel dropped them and turned around. The baker was walking towards them, smiling with her hands full of icing piping bags.

“Would you like to taste it?” She offered, violently grabbing their wrist and squeezing a drop of bright green icing on their finger.

Hesitantly, they did. It felt like acid, burning their throat and setting fire to their stomach. Noel grimaced.

“Don’t like that one?” The baker asked innocently.

“No, that’s okay,” Noel managed, backing away, “Do whatever. How about I come back when it’s done?”

The baker’s pleased expression dropped. She scoffed and replied, “Why would you do that? It’s-“

Noel lunged for an empty glass jar, smashed it on the floor, and bolted from the building. She ran the same frightened pace all the way home, deciding that maybe it’d be best if she just _made_ the cake.

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