Quick recipe of a wicked soup for Kings and Queens

Short story of the determined witch Kook.

Kook’s Soup 🍲

Kook was grating her fingers in the pot when there was a knock on the door. She took a sip and grimaced. Too much nail.

If she didn’t get this right soon, she would have to find another job. Her funds were lower than her hopes.

The knock sounded again. She sighed, wiped her hands with her skirt and moved to open the door. There was no one there. She huffed and banged the door shut. Bloody children! Always playing with her. As if agreeing with them, her niece giggled from her cradle, making Kook frown.

Like she didn’t know that she had failed again. The local taster for the Royals was not so kind with his words when she had put her bowls in front of him last time.

“Too little skin.”

“It tastes like your first ever soup. Shit.” He glared at her from behind his glasses. The man never minced his words.

She had saved the best for the last, “Try this one.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bowl. He put the spoon to his lips and grimaced, “The smell is off.” He pushed all of them in the street off his sill. The old man had never bothered to open the door for her, “Come again tomorrow. With something edible.” And shut the window with a bang.

Kook hung her head in shame and went back, avoiding the snickers from people. She was used to it now. They were open in their skepticism of her abilities.

As long as they bought her batches, she didn’t mind. But the sales were lowering as the days went by. She had to throw most of her soups before going home, barely making enough money to buy ingredients for the next batch.

Yet, Kook started working as soon as she got home with fresh produce. The first batches of soups she made were not good. Still, she would feed them to him, if not for anything then in hope he pukes. It was not like he was allowed to turn away any sample.

Sometimes, he even took the bowls inside without a comment. It meant he had liked them but there was something wrong that he couldn’t point out to her. Not because of rules, but because he was a bastard like that.

It seemed like he was in particular mood that day. So, he ruined hers too. Bloody Old hag! He was always nice to her mother and sister, saving the worst for only her.

She often fantasized about punching his crooked nose to lift her spirits. No one would notice it. And he couldn’t touch her because of her family.

She took out a new pot. This one was a gift from her mother after she had grated her full legs for her soup. Kook had scoffed then. It was always better to start with hands, she thought. Her mother had been out of commission for a year till her legs grew back, twisted.

Kook started with a bit of her chin this time. The onions would provide a better flavor so she cut those too. And then she moved to grating a bit of her arm over the pot. The left one had made the batch yesterday more delicious. So maybe a bit of that and a dash of right for that spicy taste.

Her niece peeked from her cloth cradle and asked for some in her small voice. Kook grumbled and gave her a bowl form the last batch. How was her sister able to get her soup right before her? The woman was younger and yet the soldiers went to her home last winter. Kook had only gotten to know when two officers of the Royal army had delivered the baby to her.

Kook burned with envy whenever she passed the market square to get her spices. Her mother’s name was a bit older on the plaque but her sister’s shined beneath her grandmother’s and aunts. Her grand aunt had been famous for using her tongue for her soup. She couldn’t taste her own creation.

Yet, they were hailed as the feeders of the Royals, sent to work for them and prepare their meals up north. Her village had sent seven, all of them were women from Kook’s family. No letters were allowed. No one could know the exact location of the Royals or who they were. Just that they loved their soups and were always looking for new varieties that met their standards.

People all over tried day and night to get it right. They had heard words. About the luxuries, only make your soup once in a while, the elixir that made their limbs regrow and the best of all, they lived at the same place as the Royals. The guards were cruel about their remarks on this yet Kook’s eyes shined with the possibility.

She went every morning with her soups in different containers to be tasted, three at least, five at most. And waited every night while preparing the next batch that the soldiers will come knocking on her door.

But only the snot nosed children who dared to venture this far from the village came to her door. It became a joke and a dare among them. And a nuisance for her.

She ignored the knocks that came again and minced the pig eye she had bought. She hesitated on the fish. The money was almost over. And the inn that took the rest of her soups sometimes was closing this winter. Not enough travelers this far on the continent.

If this continued, she would have to take up the job of making mead for the local bar. She shuddered at the thought, and dumped the whole lot of meat in the pot. This would be it! She knew it.

She searched around for the table for her hair she had saved from last week. They tasted better with a bit of sunlight. She went to the window to look for the jar.

She turned around at the sound of something grating. Horrified at her niece, she snatched the little girl away from the pot. But the damage had already been done. She had grated her pointer finger directly in the pot and it was bleeding, so the blood also went in.

Her bottom lip trembled at the sight and she pressed both together to not let out the building sob. She looked at her niece who also had tears in her eyes.

The little girl had always been curious and asked in her childish babble to do the same thing Kook did over the pot. She should not have let her seen working. Or she should have kept her farther away from her table. What would a child know, anyway? It takes time for the body to solidify its blood, and it only happens with some of the families like hers.

Kook sighed and put her niece to sleep after applying some salve to her hand. She looked at the soup, adding the hair as if in daze before giving it a good stir and taking it off fire.

The next day when she took all her soups for tasting, the taster looked at her with a glint after tasting the last bowl and shut the window with a bang. He didn’t even bother to throw away her earthen bowls in the street this time.

She had taken the one with her niece too. It irked her to bring only two samples. She didn’t have the strength to make more. And he was going to reject them anyway. But maybe she shouldn’t have done that. She went back home with heavy heart and empty hands. There wasn’t enough money to buy more produce.

She sat staring at her empty hands, trying to hold back her sobs while her niece wailed.

The knock was louder that night. She picked up her broom to swat those devils away and opened the door quickly only to be pushed aside by a horde of soldiers in royal uniform. They searched around the little cottage. But their gazes went over her without notice till it landed on her niece. They took the child away while Kook screamed and kicked them to let her go.

The old taster was mounted on his own horse, looking down at her with a look of disgust.

She struggled with the leader but was kicked back. She didn’t realize when another soldier took out the club meant to dismember people like her. She only heard the end of their grumblings before her world went black.

“This one will hardly last them a week.”

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A little spooky story before we get in the festive mood. You can check out other Dead Sister’s tales if you liked this one. Stay tuned to not miss out.

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