Hell’s Bakery

Something tragic happened.
My grandmother died…
It was so sudden…
Yes, she was old, nearing 80, but she was healthy as one can get…
We just had a bake-off last Sunday…
She said I won, but I knew better.
Not many in this world could match her ability to mix ingredients, and make delicious cakes, and sweets.
Now that she left…
I don’t know what to do with myself…
I’ve spent the last few days, staring at three towering piles of papers…
One, her recipes…. Oh, how many little tweaks she did, for oh so many sweets and cakes, even made-up a few of her own.
The second was the inheritance papers…
She left…she left everything to me…
And 3^rd…
The 3^rd pile is the papers for the place I bought, so we can open up a bakery together…
“Jellova Place”, would’ve been its name, as grandma used to say jello instead of hello, hell-of-a and hell.
She loved jello what can I say.
And the reason she left everything to me…
Well, I grew up with her, and took care of her when she got older.
Not because my parents or aunts wouldn’t do so, but simply, I loved my grandma.
My parents loved and still love me, but I had something much more spectacular with grandma than with them…
It took me a few weeks to get everything sorted…
Maybe even a couple months to be able to move in…
After all, how could I live in an apartment, when grandma’s house in the outskirts is getting dusty…
It took a couple of days to clean the house.
And I’ll be damned…even after all this time, the kitchen smelled…sweet…
I rested a bit, and then…
Then I went to the kitchen to bake something…
Our favorite…
Strawberry jello cake.
As I was baking, the smell and fragrance started to drift away…
Soon, some kids from the neighborhood came knocking.
I gave them some sweets…it was a thing grandma always did.
And I continued to bake and bake…
When a knock came…from the door to the basement.
I went to it, with a trusty cooking pan in my hand, and opened it.
It was a pink imp…
Small childlike figure, pink skin, pitch black horns, and tail.
I screamed, and slammed the door.
I could hear it gasp in surprise as well.
I waited, and waited, before opening the door again.
It was still…there.
“Hello, you must be Evangeline, Matilda spoke a lot about you.”
It said, with an amazingly fluent English…it even had the accent of those around these parts…
“Who…What are you?”
I asked.
“I am Meteul, a lower-ranking demon, of the 5^th hell, the hell of anger.
A great pleasure to finally meet you.”
Meteul said smiling.
I slapped myself.
“I must be hallucinating…”
I murmured.
“No, you are not.
Your grandmother’s house happen to have met…a weak spot of the veil between the 2 realms…
Hell and Earth, that is.
We came here first 40 years ago, but I am told the other hells made the first contact a few years prior to that.”
Meteul said.
“Did you make a deal with grandma, or why did you visit her?”
I asked.
Seeing how he had a bag, from which strong condiment smell drifted towards me, I guessed it was customary to gift grandma something.
“No, no deals…
The house is indeed on a spot where the veil is weak…, but the breaking point has been reached when a war broke out between pride and lust …
They were the first one to arrive here…
Wounded soldiers, wounded civilians…
And your grandma…fed them…”
He said.
I smiled.
Typical grandma, first feed than think.
“Is she…Is she down there…”
I asked.
“In Hell? A saint like her? We would rebel once more against those damn holy pigeons if they dared to send such a soul to us!”
He reacted harshly.
I giggled.
“So, you are here for cakes and sweets, I assume.”
I said.
“Yes…”
He said, fidgeting around.
“I am sorry for your loss…
If you can’t bake…it’s not a …”
He continued.
“No worried…It’s not a problem.
Grandma…grandma would’ve wanted this…”
I said, going to the kitchen.
And after that, I started to get visits every week, from different demons…
Soon, it became a routine…
I sold the shop I bought, and renovated grandma’s house, making it into a bakery itself…
The name changed though…
“Hell’s Bakery… Goods good as hell can be found here…”
As I read it, I laughed at how cheesy it was…
But everyone in the neighborhood became a loyal customer, and let’s not even mention the huge orders placed by those below…
I can now understand how grandma was able to bake even in her sleep…
With this much practice, it’s hard not to get good…