Home Read What's New Join
My Account Login

Read Our Devotional             2016 Opportunities to be Published             Detailed Navigation

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge



how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level


submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners

Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.



how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Taste (07/15/10)

TITLE: It Tastes Like Chicken
By Terry R A Eissfeldt


“What is this? Chicken? It tastes like chicken.”

“Of course it does! Everything tastes like chicken at our age!” George peeped over his half-moon reading glasses toward the new guy, Raymond. He almost felt sorry for him.

George remembered his first meal at Fair Plains Retirement Home. It was a mash of tasteless gumbo. He was numb from shock. As unbearable as it was to bury his beloved Anne, companion of sixty plus years, it was almost equally deplorable to be removed from everything familiar and deposited amongst strangers.

It was like being sent off to boarding school but worse. Much worse.

At boarding school George had purpose: excel in classes, join appropriate clubs, make friends who were bigger than him, and wait for holidays. Each year it got easier to go back to school and harder to find something to talk about with his parents over the Christmas ham or Easter Turkey.

He graduated at the head of his class, went on to university and fulfilled his dream of becoming an architect. He had it all: a great wife, healthy children, a satisfying job, wealth....where did it all go? Where did the years go?

“George?” Teresa gently tapped his shoulder. Her wrinkly brown face peered at him. “Maybe you could give some of your secret sauce?”

“No.” He shrugged his shoulder and grunted into his stew. The nubie could just suffer and find out the reality of communal living. Every man for himself.

“But George!” Teresa lamented, “He just lost his wife.” She leaned forward and whispered in his hairy ear.

George glanced across the small table. Raymond was sitting there staring into the stew. He was ashen. George looked away.

Henry, the fourth member of the table, was happily slurping up his lunch, spilling most of it on his towel covered lap, secure in his own world. He didn’t notice the new guy and wouldn’t remember him five minutes after lunch, let alone tomorrow. George wondered if losing one’s memory was maybe the better way to go.

“I’m not going to be here long, you know,” shuffling his feet and mindlessly turning his spoon over and over, the newest member of the table looked George defiantly in the eye. “My son and his wife are going to...”

“Let me guess!” George cut in, “sell their house and buy one where you can come and live with them? Humph!” He threw his spoon down. “I’ve heard that one a time or two.”

Raymond’s ashen face grew paler. George looked away. Hope was for suckers. All that was left in this life was the moment you had. Food, drink, and company. Isn’t that what Solomon came to in the end? He reached into his pocket and drew out the tiny bottle.

“Hey, Raymond,” George softened his voice. No use letting the entire dining room in on the conversation.

Raymond’s watery grey eyes locked on to George like an imprisoned dog at the catchers.

“This helps bring out the taste in the food around here.” George passed the hot sauce across the table. Raymond stretched out his brown spotted shaky hand to take it.

“Thank you” he whispered.

Teresa broke into a grin that exposed the gaping holes in her dentures. She squeezed George’s arm in delight. Henry went on slurping, oblivious to anyone else at the table.

“I know you’ve probably had the official tour of the joint,” George picked his spoon back up, “but if you want, after lunch I’ll take you on my own special tour.” The men’s eyes met again. A faint flicker of light was breaking out of the grey.

“I was an architect for forty-five years. I know how to get in and out of places even the Director doesn’t know about.”

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.

This article has been read 471 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Sarah Heywood07/24/10
I enjoyed this. You really bruoght the reader into the world of the aging and infirm - something that even I don't think about that often. Nice!
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 07/25/10
This is about so much more than chicken and you did a divine job of painting a picture that many elderly people are living. This is well written and pulls at my heartstrings.
The Masked Truelovers07/27/10
good message to help the reader empathize with our grandparents, parents - and ourselves as we continue to age. Good dialogue, well-written.
Lollie Hofer07/27/10
I hope you get a lot more yellow boxes. This story deserves them. You did a remarkable job bringing these characters to life. I was there seeing and feeling all of it. I laughed out loud about the mc making sure he had big friends at school. Great line. Seriously, I hope this one did well with the judges. If not, it's a winner in my book.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 07/30/10
Congratulations for placing in the top 15 of your level and in the top 30 overall.