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Holder of Sweets

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In any country, in any city, get into a car, alone. Drive west until you arrive in the countryside. Find a house on a spacious lot that a family appears to live in. Exit the car from the road and walk slowly down the driveway, looking only at your feet. No matter what you may see in your peripheral, do not look up or around.

Only when you arrive at the front porch may you relax, for the moment. Knock thrice, lightly, and wait. If the door does not open, call out in a confident voice, “I come for the Holder of Sweets,” and wait again. If the door opens to reveal a small boy, fall to your knees and pray, for nothing can help you then. If an old, grizzled man with cruel eyes answers, however, he will wordlessly beckon you inside. Follow him.

Immediately, you will smell something delicious being made in the kitchen. Turn to the old man, but do not look him directly in the eye. In a voice like ripping cloth he will say, “My wife,” and point you to the kitchen. Once the man vanishes, so will your final chance to turn back.

The room will seem far too large for such a house. It is full of mouth-watering pastries and desserts of countless kinds - set on counters, tables, or on racks to cool. The half of the kitchen furthest from you will be painted strangely, in a fresh, vivid red. The side from which you entered is mellow shades of blue. The window near you will show a young boy and a dog on the lawn outside, playing and romping. Do no more than glance, however, for you will then be warmly welcomed by the beautiful young woman at one of the counters. “Hello!” She will offer you a tray of pastries or the like. ”Would you like a treat?” Refuse immediately. The woman may pout, then shrug and smile radiantly. “Oh well! Would you like to make cookies with me instead?”

If you answer that you do not want to, or do not know how, she will drop whatever she is holding with a crash. The woman’s face will twist horribly, her jaw will snap and re-hinge to make room for crooked fangs, and her flesh will fall off in splattering red sheets to show her true form underneath. It may be the last thing you see before you suffer an undying death, torn to shreds and meaty chunks no larger than pocket change... But you will still be conscious. You will feel everything as your remains are added to batter, then put in the hellish heat of the oven, unable to scream, unable to see, only aware of yourself roasting and eventually being slowly devoured and digested.

It would be much, much wiser to accept. She will again smile charmingly. “Lovely! Hand me that measuring cup.”

All the while, stay by her side. Do not wander to the red side of the room, and do not touch any of the baked goods. Each time you begin to ask her a question, she will speak over you, asking for an item or for you to hold something. You must attempt to question her 12 times before she gathers all the ingredients. One too many or less, and you will suffer the undying death.

After collecting and mixing, she will cross over to the red side of the room. It is hot and uncomfortable here, and instantly, she will turn to her true form, as will the ingredients. Do not flinch or cry out when you see the bloody entrails and bodies that will replace the sacks of flour and pitchers of cream - these are all past Seekers who have failed. Stay alert and calm, and do not hesitate, and you will not meet the same fate.

The demon wife will turn to you, asking sweetly, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Do not grimace at the smile she gives, now splintery with jagged teeth. “Bring the cookie sheet over.”

She will look out the window on the red side - follow her example. Outside, the dog has turned into a hell-beast and is tearing at the mangled body of the little boy.

The woman will pause in setting clumps of bloody, meaty batter onto the pan, and say, “Aw, they get along just lovely, don’t they?”

You are then to reply, “As lovely as your baking.”

If you've convinced her, she will smile and continue preparing the cookies. However, if you stumble over your words, or pale, or suddenly break out into a sweat, you will join the failed Seekers of the past.

If you’re still living at this point, the beastly woman will open the oven and bend to place the tray inside. At this time the head of the little boy will come smashing through the window. As soon as you hear the glass breaking, swiftly shove the woman inside the oven and close it. Be sure the tray has been placed firmly on the rack prior to this. Set the temperature to 538 degrees and give it an arms-length distance. Whatever you may hear from the oven, do not open it, be it the screaming voices of your family or loved ones. Do not open it.

The boy’s head will be on the counter. Ask him “What will tempt those who seek them?”

He will answer in a lifeless croak, and his long, macabre response will finish just as the oven door is thrown open. Avoid the unbearable heat by reaching in quickly to grab the one cookie the demon is not touching. Do not touch her remains. Ignore the blisters rising on your hands and sprint to the refrigerator, open the door, and throw yourself inside.

You’ll find yourself on the floor of your kitchen, in your own home. You're safe...for now.

The cookie is Object 120 of 538. May it never be consumed.

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