Day 149 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Include the words cellar, whisk, and beggar.
Erin: There is a reason I refuse to go into the cellar. When I was a kid the beggar from downtown had found his way into the storm window and camped out in the corner. When I was playing hide-and-seek, I found him while I was running around looking for my brother. I was immediately terrified. He wasn’t looking to harm anyone, just looking for warmth, but since then I was terrified of finding something even more unsettling. So, when I was forced to clean out my parent’s wine cellar it was time for me to break my fear. I did, and the only unexpected thing I found was a whisk my mother must have forgot in the midst of cooking and grabbing a bottle. Replacing my old memory with one of remembrance of my mother’s nature helped me move on and for that I was grateful.
Shannon: “I need your help right away. You can set your stuff in the bedroom next to wine cellar. If I find even one bottle missing from those shelves I’ll kick you back out on the streets and you’ll be a beggar again. I’ll make sure you never find another job in this town. I don’t take you as the type to bite the hand that feds you, but I’ve been wronged before,” the older women explained as she directed me to the dark stairs. When I waited at the top she got a little impatient, “What’s wrong, what are you waiting for?”
“It’s dark,” I twitched. “Is there a light somewhere?”
She reached for the switch by the doorway. “Are you afraid of the dark,” she questioned.
I nodded, looking down, relaxed by the illumination.
“There is a switch near the door in every room. Do you think you’ll be ok, or do you want me show you?”
I tried to hold back my head from jerking, but I knew I looked uncomfortable. “No I’ll be fine,” I was telling the truth.
“Good, there is a shower down next to your bed room. Once you get cleaned up and changed into the uniform I gave you, come up here and I’ll teach you how to use a dough whisk. Move as quick as you can. The bread has to be ready by tomorrow morning,” she patted my back. I was happy she understood my movements. She seemed to know I couldn’t control them, and they weren’t a reflection of my feelings. It usually took people a lot longer to gain even a slight understanding of my disease.
Three words of your story is already done.
Pelky Sisters 
When I woke up Christmas morning there was a strange chill in the air, as though I’d just stepped down into a freezing cellar. The stiff breeze caught at my throat and eyes as I wandered about in a circle, ticking off all the things I might have wanted to be opening right about now: a full bottle of whiskey, that new pen I’d been eyeing and a card from my mother. Of course, over here I wasn’t going to get anything at all, but I could still wish.
I was just breaking into a jog attempting to keep my core temperature at a comfortable level when the door opened and a plump elf stepped through holding what could have been an ancient scroll. After a moment of carefully unravelling the document and clearing his throat, he began to recite from it, “Dear human. Having considered the consequences of keeping you here for your lifetime I’d come to the conclusion that you would be better back in your world. So long as you vow never to step foot here again, you shall be escorted back to the rift and be allowed to leave. Somena.” Once finished, the elf leisurely rolled the page back up and stood, staring at me expectantly for several awkward minutes before I realized he was waiting for an answer.
“Oh, sorry, of course I want to go back and I promise never to come back,” I answered, glancing about nervously.
Whistling a short note, the man smiled wryly before adding, “We, of course, can’t risk you finding your way back here, even if you were to happen upon the rift again so you’ll be blindfolded.” I sighed a long, low breath, beggars couldn’t be choosers, but I had no qualms about staying as far from this world as was physically possible; they didn’t need to make sure I couldn’t come back. When a couple of tall, burly elves dressed in stripes came to the door and whisked me away, I didn’t put up any struggle at all. Instead, I was just happy to be going home for Christmas.
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Rick insisted coming with his cousin to see where she’d be trained. He and Jacey follow Josh to the Evert garage and down another set of stairs.
“We can’t train you in the dojo, because of… Well.” Josh quickens his pace down the stairs, “We figured this could work better.”
The basement is spacious, with a sitting area, a storage room, which also leads into a smaller dojo workout room. “Is this also where you were planning on having your… operation?” Rick asks.
“Why?”
“It… needs improvements. It’s a cellar.”
“Basement,” August says, walking around a few boxes.
“Same thing. I can see why you needed my father’s help. This place is a dump.”
“Rick, be nice,” Jacey says.
“Well… beggars can’t be choosers,” August says. “Jacey, if you may,” he motions to the dojo. Jacey walks in, looking around.
“Some forms won’t work here, but it’s better than in plain sight.”
“Well, Gus can get started with that, while I whisk up something for us to snack on. I heard you get hungry after practice.” Josh is gone toward the stairs.
“The saying is actually, ‘Whip up’-”
“He really doesn’t care,” August sighs.
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