The Spice Must Flow Novels & Stories

"The stairs are too long. What if we need to get to the top or come down really quick? Which do you think will be more helpful? Stairs or elevator." "What if it doesn't work?" "We won't know if we don't try." "Fine," Helia raised her hands to the air in surrender. "You win. We will try the spell." "Great." Danica smiled. "I'd get the ingredients." Danica rushed to the shelves which had the things required of in the book and brought them to Helia. At Danica's request, Helia began to make the portion with the directives of the book. "The last ingredient," Danica said excitedly as she stretched a little jar toward Helia. "The Maruvian flower oil. Just add three drops."

He said. “Hmm…” I hummed as I blushed listening to him. “At that moment I was hit with inspiration and wrote a song about you. It needs more work to reach perfection but do you wanna hear it?” he asked me. “Okay,” I said excitedly. “What’s the title?” I asked him. “It’s called, ‘You are my FLAME’.” He answered with a smile watching me getting all excited. “What does that mean?” “Well, FLAME is an acronym. Each word denotes something.” Grabbing my hand and spreading my fingers with his.

Unfortunately, the happy times were long behind them. Cassiopeia took out the pictures and tore off Lucas's figure from each one of them before throwing them into the trash can. Anya and she were the only ones that remained. Halfway through packing, she caught the whiff of a repulsive smell. She frowned instinctively. When she went to open the door, the smell grew sharper. When she had taken a few steps forward, she was hit with a heavy wave of nausea and almost lost her balance. She staggered a few steps before planting herself against the wall. Her head felt like mud.

It was a picture taken when Clayton proposed to me. That summer, I said to him, “Clayton, if you ever decide to propose, promise me there will be fireworks. “Our love should be as bright and beautiful as fireworks.” In the end, when Clayton proposed, he set off fireworks across the entire city for me. Under the fireworks, we made wishes to cherish each other and grow old together. However, we forgot that fireworks were fleeting by nature. After the brief, brilliant display, nothing remained. Clayton remembered that day, too.

With a sinister smile and two, HE gladly replies. “Well then. Just who are you suggesting to be the spice without disrupting the flow of fate that I already wrote into everyone’s lives?” A bit of a dangerous dare that HE knew that is difficult to do. Yet HE trusted the Mistress to comply for such a criterion in choosing the perfect spice to open the book of the next stage. “Remember that the spice I needed is someone whose sin is as pure as black. With the Yang that is pure as white. I want someone who is pure and true, with the other half of its pure darkness.”

Sophie chirped, her tone unusually bright. Flora’s focus was still on the spreadsheet in front of her, trying to make sense of the projections Planning Team 1 had sent over. She barely registered Sophie’s words until a tantalizing scent filled the room. The rich aroma of spices made her stomach twist, a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten since that quick bite of toast earlier in the morning.

But somehow, Conrad got the wrong idea and thought I was the one getting married. Maybe the mix-up was fate's way of stepping in, but we really did need to talk. I was still in that pristine white lace dress, its layers of delicate petals softening my figure. For just a moment, something like awe flickered in Conrad's eyes. Neither of us said a word. "What brings you—" "Sorry, if this is awkward, I'll go—" We spoke over each other, then both fell silent. I bit back a laugh. Just like that, the tension between us dissolved.

"Annie, look at you. You've been so busy handing out milkshakes that you haven't even had a sip yourself! Go on, have a sip." I took the milkshake from my roommate's hand and brought the straw up to her lips. "No, Sienna, you should drink it. I bought this to welcome you, after all." Annie Redwood waved her hands quickly, pushing the milkshake back toward me. However, I saw how her eyes lingered on my lips, unable to hide the anticipation as she waited for me to take a sip.

The silver anklet Layla had bought her chimed softly with every step. They stopped at a spice stall—piles of saffron, cinnamon sticks, dried rose petals glowing under lanterns. The vendor—an older man with kind eyes—offered them tiny spoons of harissa and ras el hanout to taste. Adeyemi closed her eyes as the heat bloomed on her tongue, sharp and warm. Layla leaned close, whispered against her ear. “Reminds me of you—sweet at first, then it burns in the best way.”

However, he immediately smelled a strong scent of Flaming Hot Cheetos in the living room when he returned home that evening. Valerie and William had acquired a new snack, Flaming Hot Cheetos. "Dad, these Flaming Hot Cheetos come in several intensities. We had the extra-spicy ones earlier, and now we're trying the cheese-flavored ones. I bought one of each for you to taste the variety," Valerie explained. "They taste so good. Val, you're so good to me," William said, wiping his runny nose and continuing to eat. On the coffee table, there was a bowl of water. Since William found the Cheetos too spicy, Valerie brought him a cup of warm water to cleanse his palate before he indulged again. Willi