Flour. Chocolate. Eggs. Milk. These are just a few of the simple ingredients of the average chocolate-chip cookie. The soft, chewy, gooey variety. This is the story of my short life as one. Yes. I am very much a cookie. My life began at the wanting of sweets.
Putting multiple objects together, I was born spinning fast in a mixer. That including my family. We were all separated, put on a hard ground, then moved into a cave. Thus began my life.
The cave was hot. Hot enough to make my chips sweat out of me like a sauna. My skin slowly expanded, and hardened.
"This is too hot!" one of my brothers exclaimed. "Can this be any worse?"
"Shut up!" one of my sisters called. "We all know it's hot."
Hours passed, and the heat did get worse. What also got worse was the talking. I couldn't sleep with such a racket. The cave was a womb, and we were born inside.
But suddenly, the intense heat settled. With the cooling, came a loud noise from the cave's entrance. Then the ground started shaking. The sky flew fast above us, then we slid from the cave floor into a clear, round room.
"What the heck?" a sibling said.
"Get off me!"
We all freaked out as we fell on top of each other. Since I was on the bottom, I got the most pressure. All were on top, so I could count ten of us total.
Then we suddenly got quiet. I could hear some commotion above, but I couldn't see why. Then I heard a voice from the outside.
"Mommy? Can I have one please?"
"Sure, but one one."
Then one of us started to scream. He was taken outside, then a gruesome noise sounded through all of us. A loud crunch. The cookie was silent. There were nine of us left.
None of us quite understood what had just occurred, so we all forgot about it. But some strange rumors went around about "Aliens", an almighty creator, or "God". It wasn't like we had no real control over our own lives, right? We thought that nothing really happened. It was nothing. There was always the nine of us here in the room. But yet again, another one of us screamed.
"Help me! We are all going to die-!"
Eight. Since it was actually true that some of us were going to die, most of us, about all of the half on top, were worried about a depending doom.
A day went by. Those on top were now used to the life of death, while us near the bottom either demoralized it as salvation or a holy path we must all take. And yet, some of us, even myself, were thinking now and again that there was no real death. There was always eight.
But a chime from the round sun on the farther wall said it was six-o-clock. The sound was like an executioner's trigger, allowing the platform from below to fall. Until our lives stopped living. Another one of us was gone.
More voices were heard, and they weren't from any of us.
"You've already had one."
"But I want one! I want it! Want it now!"
The voices stopped, and the mood settled. But without knowing, another one of us was gone, followed by yet another loud crunch.
Six. A few of us cookie on top freaked out. They said that they saw what caused our deaths. They convinced themselves that they who were on top were targets for a God. To devour. And in the middle of the night, another one. A murder in the silence of night.
Five. But it continued.
Four. At lunch.
Three. At dinner.
Two. Midnight snack.
With only me and my brother left, we knew that we both would be gone by dinner.
Lunch. My brother screamed his last.
One. So I was alone. The large world around me left the feeling of death in my vision, and the only thing left of my family was their crumbs.
Then, as I thought I would live on, I saw the reason of death. A large being. Was this God? Our creator? It picked my up, but the being didn't do the same to me as the others. Instead, it put a tongue out and spoke.
"Eww. It's burnt."
I was then thrown away into a dark chasm. It stunk. I had no idea that I would live on. But I lasted through it. Now I sleep. This was the rest of my life.