The Gingerbread Incident: by Rachel

You may think that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.  I thought so too, until the incident. Trees, ornaments, presents, garlands, hot chocolate, fuzzy socks, snow, cozy pajamas, candy canes, and… gingerbread. Ah, yes. Gingerbread. The quintessential Christmas treat. However, these little cookie men hide a dark secret behind their sweet exterior, and I was unlucky enough to be the target of their wrath. 

It all started on December 13, a Friday. That day’s spooky if you believe in that kind of stuff, and it could explain everything that happened that night. As I was closing up at the bakery I work at, around eight o’clock, an insane storm started. First, there was one giant clap of thunder, and then a blizzard started out of nowhere. Within seconds I couldn’t see through the windows in the bakery at all because of the snow, and the claps of thunder and horns honking outside became muffled as the snow came down harder. This was definitely not good. I tried to open the front door that led to the sidewalk outside and the back door that led to the dumpsters, but neither of them would budge. I was snowed in. I groaned, sat down in one of the white wicker chairs by the window, and pulled out my phone to call my boss. 

“Hi Brenda,” I said, trying not to sound upset, “I just wanted to let you know that the blizzard snowed me in and I can’t open any of the doors.” I can hear Brenda yelling at her kids to stop jumping on the couch for a second, and then she closes a door. 

“Hi Noelle,” she says, exhausted, “we’re snowed in here too, this storm is crazy. Do you still have power at the bakery? Mine’s been going on and off.”, she sighed.

“Yep! We have a generator, right?” I asked.

“We do. I was wondering if you could do some work overtime, maybe? You would be paid, of course, but we need to make some gingerbread cookies for the holidays, and we’re going to be behind on baking tomorrow because of this storm.” Brenda said, apprehensively.

“Sure!” I say. I loved making cookies. 

“Thank you so, so much Noelle, I really apprec-.” she said, and then I heard a giant clap of thunder and the connection dissolved. That storm was really, really weird. Brenda’s probably busy comforting her 4 kids, so I decided not to call her back and get to baking. I went to the kitchen in the back, turned on some Christmas music, pulled up Brenda’s special gingerbread recipe on one of our tablets, and started baking. I finished making the dough in one of the big, baby blue stand mixers, and rolled it out flat on a countertop. I cut out the little gingerbread men, put them on baking sheets, and put them in the oven. Just as I closed the large oven door, lightning struck the roof of the bakery. The building is plunged into darkness for a second, but then I hear the generator buzz and everything flickers back on. I can smell a bit of smoke, but no fire alarms are going off, so everything’s fine. I turn the oven back on, and then go to clean up and decorate the bakery some more. 

As I’m hanging up some Christmas lights on the light pink walls and hanging paper snowflakes on the ceiling, I hear a strange wheezing noise coming from the kitchen. I go to investigate, but nothing seems to be wrong. Since I’m already in the kitchen, I decide to make some red and green frosting for the cookies. I mix everything up, and then I go to pull the cookies out of the oven. Before I could even get to the oven, I heard a banging sound coming from it. “Great.” I thought, “Now I’m snowed in and the oven is probably broken. What else could possibly go wrong?” I pulled the heavy trays out of the oven, but to my immense surprise, only one of them had gingerbread men on it. The first tray had the bottom half of a gingerbread man, the second tray had a torso on it, and the third tray had a head. The last tray was exactly how I left it. The gingerbread head was bigger than my head. “I didn’t do this.” I thought,  “This is really, really weird.” Frustrated, I tossed the three giant cookies in the garbage can and left the tray of normal ones to cool off. I go back to my decorating. I headed past the fridge and down the short hallway to the rest of the bakery, but before I could even get there, I heard a splashing sound. I run back to the kitchen as fast as I can, and immediately step back in shock. The last tray was empty. The gingerbread men- there were about sixty- were putting the humongous one I had thrown away together with the red frosting. It looked like a crime scene in the kitchen. There was red frosting everywhere: On the counter, on the floor running, down the walls, and all over the gingerbread men. I hadn’t made all this frosting. None of this made sense. All of the little heads turned to look at me simultaneously. 

“Excuse me?” I said in a wavery voice, “What are you doing?” but they all went back to their work.  Slowly, the large gingerbread man stood up on the counter, dripping with red frosting, and turned to look at me with its green frosting eyes. It had to have been at least three feet tall. 

“This isn’t possible, I didn’t do this!” I whispered, to no one in particular. 

“Hello, Noelle.” They all said in monotone, childlike voices, green frosting mouths not moving. I backed up further, and slowly they all jumped off of the counter. I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket to try to call someone: the police? My boss? I didn’t know who, but it was no use anyway. My phone was completely dead. However, they weren’t moving towards me. The cookies were headed for the knives. I ran as fast as I could to the door, but it still wouldn’t budge. 

“OH NO OH NO OH NO!” I screamed, completely terrified. The cookies moved much faster than I thought they would, and they were walking right towards me, armed with toothpicks and butter knives. I grabbed a wicker chair and threw it at them, but it didn’t do anything. The giant cookie emerged from the kitchen with a butcher knife and walked down the little hallway, looking me in the eyes. Once again, the gingerbread men said “Hello, Noelle.” in their monotone voices, but this time, they scattered. The tiny cookies shrieked, tore down christmas lights and snowflakes, knocked down the small christmas tree in the corner, shattered light bulbs, toppled tables and chairs, and caused as much chaos as possible all while I yelled to stop, frozen in fear. Finally, they all said “Stop.” in their strange, otherworldly voices. The giant one raised its arm to gesture at me, and they all ran towards me. I ran wildly around the small bakery, but there was nowhere for me to go. The cookies were small, but they were armed and had proved themselves to be strong, fast, and excellent climbers.

“Hello, Noelle.” they said again. “We’ve come to take you.” 

“NO!” I yelled, “you CAN'T take me.” 

“Yes we can. We can catch you, for we’re the gingerbread men.” they said, and then they giggled. I jumped over the fallen Christmas tree, and they followed closely. I hopped over the counter and down the hallway to the kitchen, and then I got an idea. I opened the door to the walk-in fridge, went in, and pressed myself up against the freezing cold wall. I can hear my name being called. 

“Noelle, Noelle, Noelle, Noelle.” they say, “We’re going to fiiiind you.” 

“I’m here!” I yell, and within seconds they find where I am. I wait until they’re all in the fridge, and then I jump over them, getting my feet sliced up in the process, and slam the heavy metal door shut. I push a table against the door and lean against a frosting covered counter in relief. However, that relief is short-lived. Around the corner, I can see the giant gingerbread man, calling my name. I grabbed a rolling pin, kicked the knife out of its hands before it could even say my name, and crushed it with the rolling pin. 

“Merry Christmas” I said to the crumbs, a little out of breath, and swept the remains of the little demon into the garbage can. The cookies were no longer scratching at the refrigerator door with their knives, and I could see cookie crumbs spilling out from the tiny crack between the door and the floor. It was finally over. I collapsed onto the floor, completely exhausted, and fell asleep, covered in frosting, crumbs, and blood, until the firemen came to dig everyone out in the morning. They were confused by the state of the bakery and my sliced up feet and asked a lot of questions, but I’ve never told anyone what happened on the night of December 13th. Well, until now.