The Kitchen

Of all the places in our home, I always, always stay out of the kitchen. It wasn't because I was scared—well, a part of me was scared— but mostly because my mom told me to stay away from the kitchen. She said it was for grown-ups only. I figured maybe it's because there are utensils in there that weren't safe for kids, so I obliged without question. But as the years go by, I remember I was 16 when I asked again why I wasn't allowed in there. She just laughed and told me there were monsters in that kitchen. Irritated, I marched towards the kitchen as an act of rebellion. To prove that I was responsible enough to be around dangerous utensils without getting hurt; and old enough without being afraid of monsters. She blocked me and slapped me across the face, hard. I remember feeling a bit disoriented because of the fact my own mother hurt me because of a room in the house. Seems pretty shallow. All I saw was red. From anger, and hurt. I remember I cried inside my room and never left the next day.

The next day I never saw her again; but she left a note on the counter beside my breakfast.

Other people may go in the kitchen, but not you. Please, my dear daughter, stay away from it. I beg you. Please do your best to remember me; for I cannot be with you anymore. It's not your fault. Remember that. I'm sorry to leave this way but know that I love you, always and forever. Goodbye.

I never went to school that day, or the following days after that. I just cried and cried and held my mother's note, clutching it to my chest, and reading it all over again.

That note became the only thing that reminded me of my mom. Her handwriting, that I have now memorized, was the only memory I have of her now. Her strokes, so delicate and careful, as if someone let her write that down with as much love so that i can still feel it, even though she's long gone.

Now that I'm 6 years older, I admit it's a little silly for me to still stay out of the kitchen. But as a promise to her, I will never set foot in the kitchen.

Still, I can't rely on take outs from restaurants all the time; so I hired a maid who takes care of my meals for me, just so I stay away from that room. One time I asked her what the kitchen looked like, and she told me it had a stove, a sink, a dishwasher, cabinets full of silverware, and an exhaust. The answer she gave me was anticlimactic, to say the least. I felt disappointed—I was expecting more. A reason, I guess, that would explain why my mom being adamant to keep me out of the kitchen.

I wanted to know. I wanted to see it for myself.

I spent all night thinking of a loophole so that I can still keep my promise to my mom of not setting foot in the kitchen, and came up with a great idea on how to do it. I placed my camera on top of a remote controlled car I bought just for this reason, and secured it with a duct tape so it wouldn't fall down. I then connected the camera to the laptop so it would give me a live feed on what's happening in the kitchen. So technically, I'm not disobeying her.

I placed the car in the hallway leading to the kitchen, and proceeded to drive the car inside. I then looked at my laptop and from there, I only saw what my maid told me; nothing more, nothing less. I roamed the car around in case something was hidden, but found none. All this time, I've been doing what my mom told me to do, but it turns out there was nothing to be afraid of. Of course she wouldn't want me to go in there as a kid; there were utensils that shouldn't be touched by children. I felt silly and childish to think that I've been scared of nothing all along. I laughed, and, since there's nothing that should be avoided, I stepped in the kitchen for the first time in my life.

When I was a child, I was dreaming of the day when mom would finally allow me in her kitchen. It made me giddy and excited, fantasizing what would be the layout of the kitchen. I remember thinking it would be magic and I would be awestruck of the things inside. Today, that day came, and it was one of the most anticlimactic experiences in my life. Nothing magical happened, no unicorns or rainbows or secret passageways on the walls. Just a plain old kitchen, with wooden floors and wallpapers that looked vintage. I guess my childish imagination made me expect more.

I decided I've had enough of this and stepped out of the kitchen, continuing my day to day life. The next day, I told the maid to stop working for me, and I thanked her for her service. It's also a good thing I fired her, because her pay was taking too much of my money. I was excited to cook for myself. I know it's a bit childish, but I have never entered the kitchen so I have been relying on my maid to cook for me, either that or ordering fast food online. I burned myself pretty bad from the oil, but my food was edible and somehow tolerable since it was my first time. I felt content and ate my food. I've been looking forward to mealtimes ever since.

I started to practice cooking because I found it enjoyable and I figured I want to catch up on the years I've never cooked, so after work I would make a beeline straight for the kitchen; trying out the recipes I bookmarked at the office. I must say, I made great progress after 2 weeks, and the food I ate was tastier than what my maid cooked for me. I was glad of my progress that I decided to throw a small get-together, just with my friends to show off my cooking skills. I scheduled the gathering on Saturday after work so I will be the one to cook our dinner. I feel so excited just from thinking about it. I saved a lot of recipes to cook for the dinner party and bought the ingredients needed.

I had less than a week to practice so I'm basically living in the kitchen for 3 days. The only thing I hate about this kitchen is that it smells bad here. I tried Febreeze-ing the room but it only worsened the smell. How my maid could stand the smell, I have no idea, but this smell was becoming worse and worse as the days go by. I figured I have to do something to lessen the smell; my guests might smell the putrid odor from the kitchen so I have to find a way to get rid of it.

'Kitchen smells bad cause'

I googled what might be the reason for the smell of rotten eggs in the kitchen, and it suggested that there may be – what a surprise – rotten eggs, or i may have carbon monoxide contamination. I searched for rotten eggs in the kitchen, thinking maybe I didn't see one of the eggs rolling away from me when I was making deviled eggs last week. I followed the smell into the back of the kitchen, the smell was stronger at the corner near the wall. As i approached the said wall, the smell became stronger and stronger so I figured this might be the place where it came from. The back of the kitchen doesn't have a lightbulb fixed in the ceiling so I crouched down and blindly touched the floor in front of me when I suddenly heard a different sound; as if the floor has a space underneath it. It sounded hollow. I tapped on another area of the floor to check but it didn't sound hollow. I opened the flashlight from my phone and saw that there's a hole on the floor that made a hollow sound. I also noticed the smell in here was so putrid, i almost gagged. I therefore concluded then and there that this was the source of the rotten smell. I shone the light inside the hole but unable to see what's inside, i used the my phone's camera so i can see it. I saw what looked like stairs. Was there a basement in our house? How come I did not know? I stuck my finger in the hole and pulled it, quickly learning that this floor was the basement door. I'm not proud of this moment, but I puked on the floor near the basement door. I made a mental note to myself to clean that up later.

As I trudged down the old wooden staircase, the smell was growing stronger that they I can still smell it even if when I covered my nose. I shone my light inside the room, and it was covered in spiderwebs and rusty metal. I also saw some kind of shrine, with symbols written on it and surrounded by candles. I roamed the room with the flashlight shining the way for me, when it shone on something red and bulky. As i walked closer, I can see that it's a mountain of clothes—wait, no— it was a mountain of bodies. 4 children, to be exact. The sheer terror of what's in front of me worsened when I shone my light to the left corner of the room and I saw a man. Dad. All this time, he didn't abandon me. He was here, dead, all along. By this point I've been too scared to cry. I walked backwards, preparing to run, to escape from this hellish nightmare. But when I turned to run, I heard a familiar sound from behind me.

"Haven't I told you not to go to the kitchen? It's a shame, you were my favorite child out of all your siblings."

Submitted January 01, 2017 at 09:14AM by sophieyuh http://ift.tt/2hD1tZX