Kitchen Alive

• Kelvin Trinh, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

The door creaked not once nor twice, but instead thrice, as the much praised refrigerator was slowly opened. The surrounding were now more visible, as the light from the fridge began to illuminate the room. The kitchen was still, the kitchen was cold; the kitchen is now full of life. The clock ticked then tocked, all night long, till finally the residents were asleep. The fridge kept creaking; the clock kept ticking, till now. Midnight.

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” The clock started screaming as the fridge was finally completely opened. The cakes, the cheese, the vegetables and the meat all rushed out in relief and delight, for they are spared another day, uneaten.
The soup ladle swung, mimicking the action of a grandfather clock. As it rushes from left to right, it grew pace, as it reached higher and higher, suddenly, it flipped vertically, and stood there for moments. It knocked on the cupboard it now faced, once, twice, falling down again, and then started to faintly swing. Again the cupboard door swung open, where cookie jars, vegemite and coffee mugs began to leap to freedom.
The fridge started growling; faint sounds of music could be heard. The sing-along magnet on the fridge was now in full of life, and the mugs, chairs and knives started dancing.

The stove began sizzling as it became red hot, yet, there was no smoke. The raw meat jumped on the burning stove, then relaxed, enjoying the crimson heat. The lights flicked on as everything stopped – everything but a child walking through the kitchen to grab a cup of milk. In silence, the food, furniture, utensils and storage mourned the carton of milk. Out of place, the kid took no notice and walked back to his room. The lights flickered once, the lights flickered twice, and once again they were off.

The movements slowed, as all activity stopped. It was now reaching dawn. The friends waved goodbye, as they went back to their storage area, as the sun rose – the kitchen slowly losing its life. There were no dancing cookies on the floor, no sumo wrestling cookie jars, no celebrity instant noodles. Nothing. Everything was gone, back to their homes, back to their oblivion. The sunlight seeped through the kitchen as the family entered.