What Would I Do Without You?

Short Story

Ken Preston

10 April 2024

A photograph of raw rump steak with a garnish

The crash of glass smashing on the stone floor echoed through the castle kitchen.

Fabian, the head chef, looked up from attending to the first course, a selection of cold meat cuts wrapped in spinach and stuffed with Gorgonzola.

‘What was that?’

The clatter of dishes and pans, the rat-a-tat-tat of knives on chopping boards, all fell silent.

‘Well?’ Fabian shouted.

The kitchen staff parted like the Red Sea, allowing Moses passage to reveal a sweating, red-faced boy, staring wide-eyed and helpless. At his feet, a puddle of liquid expanded in rivulets between the ancient cobblestones and the sparkling shards of glass.

‘I'm sorry, sir! It slipped from my hands!’ His plump, glowing cheeks wobbled with every syllable uttered.

Writing in the Shadows is a reader-supported publication. To continue reading, receive new posts, and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.

Insert Content Template or Symbol
>