Ferryman Cookie Novels & Stories

She was willing to sponsor me and in the future, I can give it all back for however much I wanted to give back. She was like an Angel that came down to Earth. “Would you like some snacks? We have some pepperkaker (gingerbread cookies) and serinakaker (butter cookies),” the flight attendant asked me. “Serinakaker, please.” I told her, excitement brimming as butter cookies were my favorite. I remembered Skye again as we used to make them for Christmas every year. This year though, I won’t be able to. I sighed as I hoped that Skye would be feeling much better now.

“We will take this in order.” Evelyn looked at him over the hinge. “No order,” she said. “Only verbs.” She moved past him and put a loaf in the hands of the boy who had vomited. “Eat,” she said. “You’re an instrument.” The boy stood taller because thin bread turns children into choir. The ferry shuddered. A board gave. Water spoke briefly in the old tongue of appetite. “Names,” the ferry-woman said, to remind herself her job was not piety but accounting. “If I drown, you print it and you don’t let anyone say I went poetic.”

I can still taste Kordaway’s blood, and it makes me want to vomit. “Come,” Cookie says as though reading my mind. “I’ve somethin’ in the galley to chew on and get that taste out of your mouth.” Grateful, I follow him down the hallway after closing my door behind us. When we reach the galley, he takes something out of a cupboard. “Hard tack candy,” he says, handing me a couple of pieces. When I put one in my mouth, it tastes like peppermint, instantly washing the other horrible flavor away. “These are wonderful. Thank you.”

She wanted to get there on time, buy her father's fish and then head back home quickly. When she got there, she greeted the fish seller, "Aunty Rose, good afternoon." Aunty Rose had a big smile on her face, "Cookie baby, good afternoon," She returned the greeting, "How are you?" Cookie returned her smile, "I'm fine, thank you." "How many fish do you want to buy?" asked Aunty Rose. "Two," Cookie said. "Okay. Was it your father that sent you?" "Yes." "The fish is not properly dried. Can you please wait until it is well dried?" Aunty Rose asked, more like pleaded.

Carmen takes one more sniff before finishing, “some kind of peanut butter and chocolate cookie.” Karamea lifts the cloche and everything is exactly as Carmen said, down to the garlic butter coating the steak. “Holy, shit!” I stare at Carmen in amazement. She smirks at me and comes over to grab her tray. “Every damn time,” Karamea says, shaking her head. “What are these cookies?” “Buckeyes. Big thing around here,” I reply, grabbing my tray as well. We sit at the coffee table in front of the TV in the guest room. Conversation starts a little slow as we are consumed by the amazing food in front of us. But eventually we break the silence, getting to know each other.

“Are you heading out?” “No? I came looking for you.” “I need to do another tray of these cookies,” she says. “I’m almost out up front, and they’re a popular seller.” “Cookies,” I say, pinning her with a look. “Cookies,” she replies. “Cranberry macadamia nut with white chocolate. You can try one when they come out of the oven if you want.” Autumn makes a show of evenly spacing each scoop of cookie dough, giving it all her focus like it’s the most important thing she’s ever done. She’s obviously trying to pretend everything is fine, acting cheerful and light, but she still won’t look at me.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I was having fun without worrying about anything. I spoke to the stall owner, eager to learn how he made such delicious corn dogs. “These are incredible! What’s your secret?” The old man laughed “Ah, it’s all in the batter, my dear. A bit of sugar, a dash of cinnamon, and the lightest touch of honey. That’s what gives it that extra something special.” I nodded “I’ll have to try making these myself someday.” Just as I was about to ask him another question, Ferris’s grip on my hand tightened. I glanced at him, and his expression had changed—gone was the easygoing smile. This time, he looked focused.

He was just another face in the gray light of the tunnel. He reached the pier by sunset. A small, rusted ferry waited. "Ticket?" the operator grunted, spitting a glob of tobacco onto the wooden planks. Rafferty handed over a crumpled wad of cash. No credit cards. No paper trail. "One way," Rafferty said. "To the island? Ain't nothing there but goats and salt air, kid." "Perfect."

He tells her. She lets out a squeal and does a little dance in her seat. I call it her happy food dance. I look around, and everyone is smiling at her. There is a sealed dish on her tray with something in it. She squeals again when she opens it. There are four large cookies with some type of cream in the middle. Nate asks Ms Amy what they are. I know for a fact that Ms Amy has just made a new best friend. The cookies themselves are chocolate mocha with raspberry almond cream filling. She pops the top back on and starts eating. I hear a growl, and we look over. Tyler is trying to get himself a cookie.

Looking down at her he would have had a great view down her loose-fitting blouse at her braless tits. "So, how long does it take to get across?" she asked him. "It's our first time." "About an hour and a 'arf," he answered in a thick British accent. "Thanks!" she said with a big flirty smile. "Maybe we'll see you onboard." "I certainly 'ope so!" he said. Fifteen minutes after the ferry left the pier, Heather and I were getting a snack when we ran into the truck driver. He extended his hand, and said, "My name's Dave; pleased to meet you."