baguettes and blood

A hop away from my house, the baguette shop rests at a corner where parked motorcycles cause disturbance and test wits of even the most skilful drivers.  Only mere seconds before its next palette, laden customer fall victim to the scents of fresh baked pastries pumped through its vents, teasing the nostrils and obscuring the nature of one’s venture. This is the very same shop where customers peruse, unknown to the gruesome murder that takes place nightly.

You couldn’t tell that blood was in the air by the smile upon the workers faces.  These workers weren’t hired to know details, and they definitely weren’t making $10.50 an hour to ask questions.  They were better off remaining apathetic to the scene, better off not knowing the truth behind the secret ingredient in J.H. Bakeries hypnotic pastries.

Each night after work, as street lights exchange faint passing with the closing storefronts, Jung Hwan bids the last customers farewell, then locks the front entrance with the largest protruding key that hangs from his obstacle of a key chain. Picking up the plastic bag of day-old pastries and waste, Jung sets it back down on the other side of the entrance.  He locks the front door, locks the chains and padlocks around his tables and chairs surrounding his corner shop. Once again picking up the bag, he continues to the rear of his building, depositing his bag in the bin labelled ‘waste,’ to deter intruders from rummaging.

It would have helped if Jung Hwan knew that he was being watched, but he had his wife and child on his mind, for it had been a long shift.  Jung had been going since eight in the morning, and now it was just after midnight. The back compound was only dimly lit by the streetlights, but he had memorized the steps and dips in the broken concrete, as night after night he walked the same route. Jung Hwan was a happy man, and often whistled during his nightly chores.  He was whistling on this night.

As he slowly turned the bag over into the waste bin, little crumbs flew through the air and the sweet smell of bread flowed through his nostrils.  J.H.  tilted the bag further, and the limbs started to fall.  Hacked and bloody legs, arms, fingers and every other indescribable part of his assistance’s body began sliding from the bag, coated in blood and the same sweet crumbs.  With the bag still hanging upside down from his hands, Jung Hwan stood sleepy-eyed with a big smile, whistling an unknown tune.  Nearby a customer approached to see what time the bakery opened in the morning.  Drawn over by Jung’s virile whistling, the customer now stood eye to eye with Jung.

 Jung Hwan finally brought the bag down.  He spoke first, while the customer stood frozen in his tracks.

 “She was no good you see. Not an ounce of fat on her,” Jung spoke “I really need to start hiring bigger girls. It’s a shame though, she really had a nice smell- I think she would have turned out to be a really delicious peach pie.”

The look on the customers face dropped and all he could cry out was “uh, uh, uh…Oh my God!”

“Oh don’t worry! I’m not going to kill you.”  Mr. Hwan told him “You are not my type. Men never make good pastries, they always seem too tense and customers always complain about the treats being too chewy; that’s why I strictly hire women.”

“I can’t believe it” the customer finally mustered the strength to speak “You m…m… I mean, your assistant, that w… w… was just in the store is n… n… now in that dumpster?”

“No, No, No… Don’t be silly,” Jung replied “you have to eat them fresh.  This is yesterday’s worker. My assistant today is locked in the store and I will prepare her fresh tomorrow. It’s like they say fresh is best.” Jung Hwan laughed.

“Really?” the man now said with peaked interest “What time do I have to come to try some fresh?”

“I’ll tell you what” Jung Hwan said “If you really want to try it fresh, come tomorrow at 8:15. In the morning before the store opens and you can come take part in the whole process. Just knock on the back door and I will let you in.”

The two shared goodbyes, but only it was only Mr. Hwan who was able to sleep.  The bakery’s best customer arrived home, only to wake early in the morning to the sound of his alarm.  

The next morning, Jung Hwan crept out of bed early, making sure not to wake his wife.  Jung Hwan had a big breakfast with his son, before driving him to his school, only a few blocks away from the bakery. After dropping his son off and wishing him a good day, Jung drove to work and parked his car at the side of the building. Opening the door, he stretched and took a deep breath.  Jung smiled a wiry smile and engaged in small chit-chat with some of the neighbours that live around his bakery.  Jung knew many of them on a first name basis.

Jung Hwan went around, unlocking the padlocks around the tables and chairs.  Then, taking his large keychain, he walked to the front door and began to put the key in the slot.  Using the sleeve of his shirt, Jung Hwan rubbed a smudge in the window.  He rubbed it in circles until the smudge had disappeared.  The store owner resumed twisting the key in the slot, and entered his store.

The store was fairly neat and straightened from the night previous, even without his assistant’s help.  Jung Hwan picked up the few last trays that lay with crumbs, and brought them behind the counter to the big stainless steel sink.

Raising his head he saw that it was 8:09 am, and he had to start rushing before he could have his store piping with pastries by noon. He had been so tired the night before that he had forgotten about meeting the man the night prior that was coming to his shop in just a few short minutes, and when a knock on the backdoor had come it had startled him and he began to wonder why someone would have come to the back door. Either way he walked to see who it is.

 “Who is it?” He shouted on his walk to the door.

“We met last night,” the man replied.

“You are going to have to be a little clearer than that. I have hundreds of customers every day,” Mr. Hwan yelled back through the door.

“You know… I’m the guy who saw you...” the man now changed his tone to a whisper “bringing out the garbage.”

“Well, what do you want here?” Mr. Hwan continued to shout.

“You told me to come back to your store this morning,” the man replied “before the store opens to help prepare some of your pastries.”  The man was now getting frustrated with the exchange.

“Well, unfortunately I don’t recall any of this and I am pretty busy right now,” said Mr. Hwan.  “I am just about to start my batch, how about you come back at twelve.  You will be the first one to try a piece from the batch.   I’ll even give it to you on the house.”  Mr. Hwan shouted.  Turning his back on the door, he began to walk away.

“If you want to see your wife again, I’d open the door this fucking second!”  The man’s voice raised multiple octaves.

Jung Hwan froze in his tracks, his eyes widened with rage.

Now with a quick step, he walked to the steel sink to grab a knife.  Mr. Hwan turned and walked to the door, with enough verbal ammo to tell this guy what the deal was.  Throwing the door open, holding the knife behind his back, Mr. Hwan stood with his feet firmly planted on the cement floor.

“Min Ji, are you ok?” Jung Hwan implored.  “Did he hurt you? Don’t you lay a single fucking finger on her, or else I’ll stab you and hunt down your entire family” Jung Hwan exploded.

“The same way you murdered all those girls to make your pastries?” Min Ji shouted back. “Open the fucking door you pathetic little prick.”

“What are you talking about?”Jung Hwan stuttered, surprised by his wife’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Shut up!”  She shouted as they burst into the backdoor, unaware of Jung Hwan’s knife behind his back.

Min Ji  and the man stormed inside, the man demanding to see his daughter.

“Ahhh... Fuck!” Mr. Hwan sighed.  He was putting the pieces together.

“Where’s the girl?” Min Ji burst.

“She’s in that room” Jung Hwan pointed.

The man ran to the room and opened the door.  He burst into tears at the sight of his daughter tied up in the middle of the floor, duct tape thick over her mouth.

The man went to comfort her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

“Sul Ki darling, I am here now,” the man assured “everything is going to be alright. I am going to take this tape off your mouth.  It might hurt a little, but it’s the last pain you will ever have to go through.” Her father pushed the jagged words past his broken lips.

As her father bent down by her, he slowly inched the piece of the tape off the corner of her mouth with his trembling fingers.  He was in the middle of a countdown to rip the whole piece off when the door slammed shut behind him.  Now they were both locked inside, their screams shut off from the world, yet still ringing like a city’s towering clock at midnight. 

Outside the door a commotion arose and the knife was drawn “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“I…Uhh… I… I…” the voice stumbled.

“Do you want to join the couple in the cooler?”

“No…no… I want to help you. Anything you want, I’ll do...”

“I want you to go in there and cut those bodies up...we have some pastries to make, and the store opens in a little over two hours.”

“Yes... yes...yes...  anything” The hacking clever was grabbed, and the room filled with blood faster than they could say fresh. In pieces, the bodies were carried to the pressing room to be ground down and mixed with the premade dough. 

Quiet steps walked up behind the other until cold steel rested against the others throat.

“You know I don’t like being woken from my sleep,” the voice whispered as the knife entered the shaking body.  “Don’t worry, you won’t go to waste. I think you’ll make a fine pie.”