Short Story: Season 2
Witches’ Loaves
Witches Loaves
[Witch-Gifting Bread]
O. Henry
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[Witch-Gifting Bread]
O. Henry
Martha Meacham has a tiny bakery located on a street corner.
Martha was forty years old, her savings book showed the number two thousand dollars, and she had two dentures and an angelic heart. Many married someone no better than Martha.
About two or three times a week, there is a customer who starts to attract his attention. He was a middle-aged man, wearing glasses, and his beard was shaved thin.
He speaks English with a very strong German accent. His clothes were always shabby, matted, full of patches, and a little loose on his body. But he still looked presentable and his attitude was very well mannered.
He always bought two musty loaves. Fresh bread sold for five cents, while at that price he could get two musty breads. He never bought another bread.
Once upon a time Martha noticed there were red and brown stains on her fingers. He was convinced that the man was an artist and very poor. She must have stayed in the attic room that also served as an art studio and ate musty bread while imagining devouring all the delicious food on display at Martha's bakery.
Often when Martha sat down and enjoyed her bread and tea, she hoped that her gentlemanly artists could come to enjoy her delicious meal instead of eating dry bread in a stuffy room. As you already know, Martha was a kind woman.
To test her guess at the man's job, Martha hauled a painting from her room and displayed it on the back wall of the cash register. The painting is not an expensive painting. Martha bought it at a flea market.
It was a painting of the city of Venice. The magnificent building made of marble stone (that is what is written in the painting) stands tall in front of a field—or perhaps more precisely a pond. Surrounding it are gondolas (with a picture of a woman tracking her hands above the surface of the water), clouds and sky. A true artist would look at him.
Two days later, the customer arrived.
“Please pack two musty bread.”
“This painting is beautiful, madam.” His comments while Martha was wrapping up the order.
“Really?” sahut Martha's. His heart was happy because his plan had worked. “I really admire art and” (no, don't call artists. Too fast for that.) “and painting,” he continued. “Do you think it's a good painting?”
“The balance,” his customer said, “not well drawn. His perspective is a little wrong. See you, madam.”
He picked up his bread, bent down, and passed away.
Yeah, he must be an artist. Then Martha took the painting back to her room.
How soft and warm his eyes are! Thick eyebrows! Able to assess perspective in a fleeting time—while living by eating musty bread! But geniuses sometimes have to fight hard before they are recognized.
How good it would be if his genius in judging art and perspective could be backed up by two thousand dollars worth of savings, a bakery, and a kind woman for—but this is just a delusion, Martha.
Sometimes when he comes, he chatted briefly with Martha from behind a glass cabinet. It seems that he really likes the words of Martha who is always full of cheerfulness.
He kept buying musty bread. Never had his famous Sally Lunns cake, pie, or bread.
He started to look skinny and discouraged. His heart was filled, wanting to add something delicious to his shopping, yet he did not dare to do so. He did not dare to be asked by her. He knows the self-worth of an artist.
Martha decided to wear a silk shirt with blue spots. In the back room, he had made a mysterious potion made from the seeds of quince and borax fruit. Many people use it to beautify their face.
The man immediately rushed to the door and looked out. At that instant Martha got the idea and grabbed her chance.
In the drawer under the cash register was a piece of fresh butter delivered by the milkman ten minutes ago. Using a bread knife, Martha cut the middle of the musty loaf, then put a lot of butter into it, and reattached both sides.
When the customer returned, he immediately wrapped his bread.
As she was leaving, after a bit of conversation, Martha smiled at herself with happiness in her heart.
Is he too presumptuous? Will the customer be offended? Sure didn't. No words ‘LANCANG’ in food dictionary. Butter is not a symbol of the beauty of women.
All that day Martha could not get her mind off of it. She imagines events when her dream man finds a surprise from her.
He put the brush and paint. He stood before his painting which had a perfect perspective.
He went to prepare a lunch consisting of dry bread and water. He cut his bread, and— ah!
Martha was embarrassed. Would he imagine the hand that put butter there? Will she—
Suddenly the door bells clinked loudly. Someone came in and made a scene inside the store.
Martha rushed to the front desk. Two men stood there. One of them was a young boy who was smoking cigarettes—Martha had never seen him. The other is her beloved artist.
The man's face turned red, his hat slightly fell to the back of his head, his hair tangled. He clenched his hands together and shook Martha's shoulders.
“Dummkopf!” shout as loud as possible, then “Tausendonfer!” in German.
The young man tried to separate them.
“I won't go,” he shouted furiously, “before I finish talking to him.”
Then he hit Martha's shop table.
“You have ruined my life,” she cried. Now his blue eyes are blazing behind his glasses. “Sini, let me tell you. You old cat!”
Martha could only lean on the closet behind her and put one of her hands on her blue silk waistband. While the young man held the man by grasping his collar.
“Ayolah,” sahut, “you've said enough.” He dragged the man out of the shop, left him by the side of the road, then went back in.
“Looks like I should explain this to you, madam.” Said, “Name as Blumberger. He works as an architectural designer. I have an office with him.
“He has been working for three months drawing new city building designs to be included in the prize competition. He just finished coloring his lines yesterday. A designer always draws using a pencil first. When he was done, he would remove the pencil line with musty bread. The result is cleaner than india eraser.
“Blumberger has long since bought his bread here. But today, ma'am, his manager has now his Blumberger design can no longer be used except as a sandwich bread wrapper.—
Afterwards, Martha went to the back room. He took off his blue silk shirt and replaced it with the brown shirt he used to wear. Then she threw her beauty potion into the trash can outside the window.
[Finished]
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This story will be copied soon so don't report it in the next story huh
