Looking for a quick, fun read? Check out Part One my newest short story: “The Cake of Lowland Park”. Free and only available here on my blog! Part Two will be released here next week. If you enjoy what you read here, please share with your friends— it helps me immensely!

The Cake of Lowland Park

Part One

By E.G. Rand

Lowland Park was a charming example of urban greenery. Carefully laid concrete paths lay like candy stripes under manicured trees. Coworkers Gerald and Carolina cut through the park on their way to a leisurely champagne lunch. They were chatting happily, Gerald patting his freshly coiffed hair and Carolina digging through her capacious handbag for something or another. 

She stopped suddenly and Gerald nearly crashed into her. Carolina was sniffing the air like a dog with a scent, and soon it came to Gerald too. The rich smell of buttercream and vanilla. Their eyes followed their noses to a concrete picnic table in a clearing. 

There, glittering in the sunlight, was a beautifully decorated 3 tier cake. 

Lowland park was bordered by office buildings, so it was not usual to see the remnants of a picnic left behind by people who assumed someone would clean up after them. But this was no sheet cake left behind from an office party. No, this cake was a work of art. A sculpture of pastel frosting roses and silver baubles. This cake was the kind bought for a special occasion, ordered in advance, made to specs by a master baker. 

And here it was out in the open, completely unattended. 

Carolina was the sweet tooth, she took an immediate interest. 

“Look Gerald! A cake!” She said, rather stupidly as they could both plainly see it. 

“Yep, congrats girl. That’s a cake” Gerald sighed. He was fastidious about his waistline, eschewing sweets. He liked to make it known that he turned down ALL desserts offered to him-- demurely denying everything from fortune cookies to artisan doughnuts. Gerald seemed to believe this choice made him a higher evolved being, somehow above the pithy wants of the commoners. 

Carolina ignored him. She was awash in a wave of feelings, her eyes greeting the unattended cake as a long-lost lover. Carolina loved cake, all cake, every baked good really. She scarfed down the tender folds of a croissant as happily as the cheap sponge-like yellow cake she got from the office for her birthday. 

But Carolina was a modern woman, raised by a Slimfast mother. Carolina knew that she was not supposed to love cake as much as she did. Loving cake means loving food which made you fat and that was, of course, a cardinal sin. Carolina hated that she loved food, she hated her body and she wished she didn’t love cake. 

While Carolina might enjoy a small sweet or dessert while in public, she tried desperately to not let her true feelings be known. She was looking at the cake with lustful shame. 

Gerald watched Carolina sweat with disgust “You aren’t thinking of eating that, are you? It’s OUTSIDE Carolina, it was obviously left here for a photo shoot or something.”

Carolina pointed out that if the cake was used for a photo shoot, it must have been a while ago. Wouldn’t it be a shame to let it go to waste? The rich, creamy frosting was just starting to sweat in the sun. Carolina watched the sweat bead into a gleaming jewel, beckoning her forward. 

Carolina’s mind listed all the reasons why a perfectly good cake might be left out. Maybe the original owner didn’t want the cake. Or maybe it was left here in hopes that someone would take it and enjoy it. Someone like her. 

Gerald was annoyed. If he was going to waste time on his lunch break he was going to do it in a restaurant drinking wine, not watching Carolina lust over dumpster food. So he dropped his best weapon:

“I mean really Carolina, do you need to eat cake?”

The jab hit as intended.. Carolina flushed with horror as her desires were laid bare. Here they were, on their way to lunch (where Carolina had hoped to wash down several glasses of wine with a demure salad) and Carolina was thinking of eating CAKE! One that she had stumbled across outside, no less! 

Gerald’s remark was as quick and effective as a hidden razor. Cut down, Carolina had a final surge of rebellion. She considered going all in, knocking Gerald to the ground and attacking the cake with animalistic abandon. She pictured herself, hands full of sweet cake, cheeks smeared with frosting as people gathered around, jeering and filming on their phones.

Carolina crashed back into reality. Gerald was right, what kind of gluttonous animal eats found cake? Before a meal, no less? 

Shamed, Carolina hung her head and trotted after Gerald, who had started towards the restaurant without her. 

The cake remained untouched. 

Sarah and her child, Meadowstorm, approached the clearing. Sarah wore head to toe designer yoga wear and walked her child on a leash. The leash looked like Meadowstorm was wearing a cute monkey backpack, but it was still a leash. She would never admit it, but it was the only way Sarah could exert control over her 4 year old daughter. 

Sarah was a self proclaimed “full time mommy,” but her parenting style was based on a belief that the word “no '' damaged children psychologically. She refused to discipline Meadowstorm in any way. Meadowstorm had the temperament of a brain damaged feral dog.

Despite all the feedback from nannies and child care professionals, Sarah viewed herself as an ideal mother. She created a blog where she told heavily fictionalized stories about her pregnancy and parenting. Sarah was apparently under the impression that she was the first woman to undergo motherhood, and that her information on the subject was not only valid but invaluable. 

As they entered the picnic clearing Sarah considered snapping some photos of the scene, editing out the leash of course, for her blog. She was selecting the best angle when the cake came into full view. 

Meadowstorm, who had been ripping up grass by the handfuls, now threw down her foliage and lunged, screaming, towards the cake. The force of her efforts caused Sarah to have to dig in her heels to prevent being dragged. 

Sarah had naively believed that she was safe from the cake's power. In stark contrast to her laissez faire discipline style, Sarah monitored Meadowstorm’s diet rigidly. She forbade any kind of processed sugar in the home, in addition to dyes and preservatives. Her food purity regime was so throughout that, to her knowledge, Meadowstorm had never even seen a cake, let alone eaten one. 

Again, Sarah was wrong. Her husband had been slipping Meadowstorm sweets for years. He did this partially out of guilt for his constant work trips, but also because it was the only thing that seemed to soothe the monster that was his offspring. 

Meadowstorm went into overdrive. She kicked, she screamed, she thrashed on the ground like an alligator in a death roll. 

Sarah could barely contain her horror. Not at the tantrum, of course, but that her own sweet baby girl would want to eat something so base and common as cake. Sarah wouldn’t even let doctors vaccinate Meadowstorm (because of preservatives, or something. Sarah wasn’t really sure why.) Now her child was trying to eat CAKE? Made from non-organic bleached flour, full of refined sugar and food dye...not to mention that the cake was likely full of drugs, set out by some sort of pervert. Sarah forbade it! She abhorred it! What would her fellow mommy bloggers say?

Meadowstorm was strong for her age and she crawled towards the cake with the tenacity of a dying man, screaming as if she was being stabbed. Sarah pulled back on the leash, trying to get her bearings. 

Sarah tried the only parenting tool she had, deflection. 

“Meadowstorm, how about we sing a song instead? Won’t that be fun? Sing a song?” As usual, Meadowstorm ignored her mother. Instead she made another mad dash at the cake, leaping for the concrete table with all her might. This sudden jump, combined with Sarah’s pull on the leash, accidentally caused Meadowstorm to hurl backwards, crashing into her mother. 

So now, in addition to being denied cake, the toddler was hurt and disoriented. The frenzy was only increasing and Meadowstorm decided to switch up tactics. 

She attacked her mother, who again vainly tried to dissuade her child 

“Meadowstorm! Sing a song Meadowstorm? NO MEADOWSTORM SING A SONG, SING A SONG MEADOWSTORM!” Sarah’s cajoling fell on deaf ears as the toddler continued the siege. Meadowstorm wretched handfuls of expensive honey blonde hair from her mother's head while delivering well placed kicks to her stomach and liver. 

Sarah managed to detach Meadowstorm from her hair, clumps of which were still in the toddler's sticky grasp. Meadowstorm continued flailing and howling, as inconsolable as a rabid bobcat. 

Sarah was bleeding from her scalp, dirt ground into her leggings and under her plastic nails. She finally managed to pin her offspring and tried to soothe her, while keeping from crying herself. 

 “Come on Meadowstorm,” Said Sarah in a breaking voice,  “lets count to five and calm down, ready? Okay, one…” Meadowstorm stopped thrashing for a moment, and it looked like she might seriously consider her mother's request. Then the toddler turned her head, and again saw the picnic table with its forbidden treasure. 

“CAKE!” Meadowstorm shrieked so loudly that Sarah’s ears rang. The toddler sank her teeth into Sarah’s arm as hard as she could. Sarah was surprised to find that she was panicked. 

It was a decisive moment, a before and after kind of moment. As blood began to bead on Sarah’s skin, all that mommy blogger shit went right out the window. For the second time, Sarah yanked Meadowstorm off her person, but this time by the scruff of the neck. 

“NO” Sarah screamed in her child’s face “NO, YOU HEAR ME YOU LITTLE SHIT? NO CAKE! NO CAKE EVER!”  

Everyone was quiet. Even the birds were a bit stunned. Meadowstorm froze, eyes wide and staring. Soon she started wailing again. Sarah ignored her, grasped Meadowstorm’s leash and began a defeat march back to their penthouse, dragging her howling daughter behind her.

The Cake Remained.

To Be Continued Next Week!