NaNoWriMo Story

The Truth Behind the Man Made of Cookie.

You probably know of the Gingerbread Man. You know, the story of a gingerbread man meant to be eaten, but he has other plans and runs for his life like fire is at his heels. And  in the end he is eaten. Well, I am Jason, that same gingerbread man, and I wasn't eaten, I live a happy life with my baker, not running like the lies of stories say. I even made a candy house for a supposed witch in the woods.  Read this and uncover the truth of the Gingerbread Man, me, Jason.

I sat up with a start. I was in some sort of chamber. It was very hot, but increasingly cooling. Suddenly, one of the walls opened up and a man stood there, bigger than me. I was scared, I jumped up and ran for my life. He tried grabbing me but I fell off a ledge. He caught me and set me down saying, “Calm down, little buddy. I won’t eat you. I want to make you a house for Christmas.” I was really confused.

“Christmas?” I said curiously. After what seemed like hours and hours on end, he descriptively explained Christmas. I was happy about not being eaten, something feels… off.

I got up and said, “My house if you will.” He muttered an “oh right”, then made a lot of gingerbread and put in the shape of a house. It had white frosting rooftops. A ice cream sandwich cookie part for a door. It even had a working food TV for me.

“Do you like it?” The baker asked full of hope.

“I don’t like it,” I said as his face fell. “I love it!” His face was full of joy. He picked me up, told me to help me through troubled times, and set me down again.

“What will we call you?” he questioned.

“Jason. My name is Jason,” I responded after a bit of thought.

“Well Jason, what do you want to do?” He asked enthusiastically.

I thought about the question and after ages of thinking said, “I have an urge to build a giant gingerbread house, like mine but BIGGER!” I don’t know why but I have to build, I had an urge to help people by making a house you can eat!

“Okay, but who would you help? You are a gingerbread man. I don’t want to sound like I am doubting you, but they might want to eat you.” He countered.

My anger arose, “Well that is my risk to take. I want to help people not sit here in my house inside your building and idly stand by!”

He sighed and asked what he need of me to help me do a good deed.

I explained and he and I ran out the house and went our separate ways. I ran to a town nearby and asked where a carpenter was. But no-one listened to me. I ran to a person and climbed up them to next to their head.

“Sir, do you know where the carpenter is?” I asked.

“He is down the street that way. The building will have a sign labeled ‘The carpenter of Jamesville’,” He replied pointing down the street.

I muttered a quick thank you and took my leave running to the Jamesville carpenter. It was a quite a long run there, for a gingerbread man at least. I stopped at the door, out of breath and wondering how I was to open it. After all I am only five inches tall and the door is at least seven feet. I am three pounds and the door, considering it is all wood with 2 metal plates on each side, is at least 50 Lbs.

I knocked but got no reply. I yelled as loud as I can and heard a few footsteps coming this way. I backed up and a man, I presumed was the carpenter, opened the door, looked around. When he looked for who knocked he looked down to see me waving.

He was confused and picked me up, “How are you moving? You are just food. Is it… was it… wait, what? I can’t help but feel I am missing some context here.”

“I was made by a magical baker, I am alive and I need blueprints for a simple house, please can have them?” I explained.

He thought about it and told me where to deliver the prints and I told him. After that was done, I ran back to the bakery, noticed the baker wasn’t back, so went to take a nap.

I was awoken later by a door being slammed. I got out of bed, put on my gumdrop buttons, and investigated the scene. The baker returned with a load of supplies for a house we will make. On top of it all was a single paper with words on it.

I climbed the stack of supplies and grabbed the paper and read it,

“I wish to have a candy house made at the east side of the woods, I hope it won’t be much trouble. I shall pay a wagon to arrive at your bakery to deliver the supplies. Thank you for making me a house!

 Sincerely,

Mary”

I looked up and asked, “The woods?” Out of all the places. It would take about an hour or two to go through, but it’s super dangerous or it would take a week to go around it.

After a long talk with the baker, we set out through the woods. It didn't take long to get to our destination. It wasn't as dangerous as I thought. Once there, we set to work. But towards the end the baker grabbed a nail, a hammer, and me instead of a non-living gingerbread man.

I yelled but it was no use. He put me to a wall, put the nail in my head and nailed me to the wall one hit of the hammer at a time.

He looked around the house and smiled. A bit later, a woman came by the name of Mary. He said the house was complete. I tried yelling but couldn't muster the strength.

I faded out of consciousness. I often do now. Every now and again I fade out and in. I can always hear Mary laughing. I, even, saw her boiling some kids. But that is my story.

No foxes ate me. No grandma made me for her husband. I never went through ANY of that. Now that you know my story, leave, whether you are satisfied or not, leave, and never, and I mean NEVER return.

The

End