Note: These short stories are set in The Magical World of Zealandia, offering glimpses into its adventures and mysteries. While they can be enjoyed on their own, reading Zealandia: The Dreadstones Grasp will provide deeper context and enrich your experience!
Emily frowned at the recipe card, her nose wrinkling as she read the tiny, handwritten instructions. “A teaspoon? That’s it? What kind of flavour is one measly teaspoon going to add?”
Before Victoria could stop her, Emily plunged a tablespoon into the mysterious golden-labeled jar sitting on the counter. “More is better,” she said confidently, dumping the heaping scoop into the mixing bowl.
“Emily!” Victoria snapped, crossing her arms. Her dark braid was sleek and tidy, a sharp contrast to Emily’s hair, which was already dusted with flour. “The recipe says teaspoon. You just put in—”
“Relax, it’ll be fine,” Emily interrupted, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the wooden spoon and began stirring with enthusiasm. “This is how masterpieces are born.”
“What even is that stuff?” Victoria asked, eyeing the jar with suspicion.
Emily leaned in to sniff the jar. Immediately, her face twisted in disgust. “Cinnamon…? No. Nutmeg? Or something spicy. Or… I don’t know. Festive?”
“Festive?” Victoria’s voice dropped into a warning tone. “Emily, Hazel’s going to kill us if this goes wrong. Have you forgotten the time you—”
“The teapot incident was months ago,” Emily cut her off, grabbing a rolling pin. “Let it go already. Now, help me roll this out.”
Victoria sighed, but moved to help. “If this doesn’t work, I’m not taking the blame.”
“It’ll be delicious,” Emily promised, cutting the dough into gingerbread men and carefully laying them on the tray. She dusted her hands triumphantly. “You’ll see. This is going to be epic.”
Victoria glanced at the golden jar one more time and muttered, “Or it’s going to end in disaster.”
***
The rich scent of spiced cookies filled the kitchen as the timer dinged. Emily pulled the tray from the oven, her face lighting up. “Perfectly golden brown. See? I told you I knew what I was doing.”
“You’re not done yet,” Victoria reminded her, gesturing to the piping bags filled with icing. “And don’t go overboard this time.”
Emily waved her off and set to work, piping careful zigzags and dots onto the first gingerbread man. “Ta-da!” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Genius.”
Victoria peered over her shoulder. “Not bad. Maybe this time you—”
The gingerbread man twitched.
Victoria froze, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did that just move?”
“What?” Emily leaned closer, squinting.
The gingerbread man sat up. Its stubby arms stretched, and its head turned toward them.
Both girls stared in stunned silence.
“I’M ALIVE!” it shouted, its high-pitched voice echoing through the kitchen.
Emily screamed and dropped the piping bag. Victoria yelped, backing into the counter.
“What did you do?!” Victoria hissed.
“Me?” Emily stammered, pointing at the gingerbread man. “What’s it doing?!”
The cookie hopped to its feet, wobbling slightly, before pointing a stubby arm at the girls. “We shall not be eaten!”
As they gaped, the rest of the cookies began to stir. One by one, they sat up, their icing mouths curling into sinister grins.
“They’re alive,” Victoria whispered, inching toward the pantry.
“How are we supposed to eat them now?” Emily muttered, horrified.
***
Chaos erupted as the cookies sprang into action.
One gingerbread man climbed onto the sugar jar, hurling sugar cubes like cannonballs. Another had tipped over a jar of sprinkles and was throwing fistfuls into the air like confetti.
Emily ducked behind the counter, clutching a whisk. “This is insane! What do we do?”
“You brought them to life—fix it!” Victoria yelled, swatting at a rogue cookie armed with a pretzel stick.
“I didn’t mean to bring them to life!” Emily shouted back. “It was that stupid jar! How was I supposed to know it was magic?”
“Maybe read labels next time!” Victoria snapped, batting a gumdrop away with a rolling pin.
The leader of the cookies, now perched on a makeshift marshmallow throne, raised a butter knife high in the air. “Today, we fight for freedom!” it declared, its voice high-pitched but commanding.
Emily’s jaw dropped. “It has a throne? And a knife?”
“They’re way better at organising than us,” Victoria muttered.
“We have to trap them before Hazel gets home,” Emily said, her voice panicked. “If she sees this, we’re toast.”
Victoria tightened her grip on the rolling pin. “Fine. But if I survive this, I’m never baking with you again.”
***
The battle was fierce.
Emily swung her whisk like a sword, trying to pin down the cookie leader. It dodged every attack, scampering across the countertop with its butter knife gleaming under the lights. “Stand and fight, coward!” it taunted.
“You’re two inches tall!” Emily shouted, lunging at it with a mixing bowl.
Meanwhile, Victoria was fending off three cookies at once. They jabbed at her ankles with pretzel sticks while another hurled chocolate chips like grenades.
“I could really use some help!” Victoria yelled, stomping her foot to shake off a particularly persistent cookie.
“I’m a little busy!” Emily shouted back, finally slamming the mixing bowl down over the cookie leader. She let out a victorious breath. “Gotcha!”
Victoria swept the remaining cookies into a colander and flipped it upside down. She leaned against the counter, panting. “Is that the last of them?”
Emily peeked under the mixing bowl. The leader pounded its tiny fists against the glass but couldn’t escape. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Both girls surveyed the kitchen. Flour streaked the walls, sprinkles littered the floor, and molasses dripped ominously from the light fixture.
“We’re not good,” Victoria groaned. “Hazel’s going to kill us.”
***
The front door creaked open, and both girls froze.
“What’s that smell?” Hazel called from the hallway.
Emily and Victoria exchanged panicked looks. Emily grabbed the colander, shoving it into the pantry, while Victoria stuffed the mixing bowl inside.
Hazel walked into the kitchen, her round eyes narrowing as she took in the chaos. “What happened?”
Emily grinned weakly. “Uh… creative baking?”
From inside the pantry, a faint giggle sounded.
Hazel’s brow furrowed. “What was that?”
“Nothing!” the girls said in unison, stepping in front of the pantry door.
Hazel stared at them for a long moment before sighing. “Clean this mess up. All of it.” She turned and walked out of the room.
As soon as she was out of earshot, a tiny voice piped up from the pantry.
“We’ll be back!”
Victoria glared at Emily. “I am never baking with you again.”