2 A.M. Photo – Creative Writing Challenge

I felt myself pulled back from the edge of sleep just as I was sinking into its sweet oblivion. The phone was making that persistent beeping that told me I had a message. I groaned and wondered how come I forgot to turn it off before going to bed like I usually do.  Another night of insomnia loomed ahead, I never could get back to sleep once I was interrupted at that crucial moment.

I opened my eyes, the LED light of the phone cast strange shadows on the walls of the room. I reached for the offending instrument and looked at the time; 2 a.m. Who the hell was sending me a message at 2 a.m. in the morning?  ‘Message from Gina’, I sighed, Gina the travelling gourmet and my goof friend was almost seven time zones away right now. I wondered if everything was alright and opened the message. It was a photograph her about to cut into an amazing chocolate cake !

Trust Gina to send me a picture of a chocolate cake in the middle of the night from thousands of miles away.  It wasn’t her birthday it wasn’t her anniversary it wasn’t her wedding, Gina was a foodie and she had obviously found or baked a chocolate cake that she was so impressed with that she had to share it with me regardless of the time. Okay so I’m a foodie too and always on the look out for a perfect recipe myself.

As usual the Instagram picture looked so perfect. The colour of the cake was a dark velvety brown, the strawberries that decorated it looked a rich ruby red and the stalks a deep emerald green.  The inside of the cake looked so moist and the chocolate frosting looked so creamy and rich. I forget to be upset as my mouth started to water.  There was no question of going back to bed now.  I had food on my mind, a dark chocolate cake.  I imagined it laced with brandy.

I got up, pottered into the kitchen and made myself a mug of think sweet cocoa.  Maybe that would help me fall asleep again.  As I sipped it I closed my eyes and imagined I was tucking into that sinfully wicked chocolate cake in the photograph.



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