A Whisk of Magic

Tanya Budhrani, The Hong Kong Polytechnic University

This baker’s brew has all the ingredients for happiness, but one is never certain of what the cauldron may spawn.

 

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A Whisk of Magic

By Tanya Budhrani 

 

Chapter 1

Each time the light of the moon shone in through the window and her pastries gleamed with the touch of magic, her love for baking increased tenfold. It was only in the kitchen that Juniper felt truly at home. Surrounded by the aromas of milk, sugar, and vanilla, she easily tuned out the cacophony of car sirens and barking dogs below the bakery. Not even the string of obscenities coming from a passerby, who had just stubbed his toe, could disrupt her serenity. 

As she kneaded the dough, Juniper focused solely on her breathing so as to better channel the warmth spreading through her body to her fingertips. Gradually, the batter began to emit a soft glow before settling back to its original hue.  

“Always the workaholic, Juni,” Chloé’s voice filled the room, pulling Juniper out of her thoughts. 

Juniper chuckled at her employee and only friend since moving to Paris. “Can you blame me? These scones are our bestsellers,” she replied, wiping a smudge of flour off her forehead. 

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Chloé snatched a raspberry scone from the display case. “I suppose you have a point there.” Bringing the treat to her lips, she sank her teeth into the warm, buttery exterior. A look of pure bliss spread across her face as she exposed her, now, red icing-coated teeth and let out a contented sigh. Her chest began to grow warm as she stared at Juniper, her eyes alight with wonder. 

Juniper watched her friend with amusement. “Careful, Clo,” she said, “you might fall in love with me if you keep eating like that.” 

Laughter.

“It’s not you who I’m in love with,” came the reply. “It’s your pastries. They’re like magic.” 

Juniper raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know how you do it, Juni,” Chloé confessed. “Every time I bite into one of your treats, it’s like I’m being transported back into my happiest memories: sailing along the Seine with my papa, playing hide-and-seek with my brother, meeting you…” she trailed off, a smile colouring her face. 

Juniper’s eyes softened. She knew her magic had an effect on people, but hearing Chloé talk about it like this made her heart swell with pride. “Ah, well,” she replied, “I’m glad you enjoy it.” 

Juniper had never told Chloé of her powers. In fact, Juniper had never told anyone. Of course, she valued Chloé’s friendship more than anything, but the thought of exposing something so precious to her made her feel anxious. 

Noticing a shift in her demeanour, Chloé grew concerned. “You okay, Juni?” she asked. “You go on home. I’ll close up shop.”

“Oui,” Juniper replied, absentmindedly, “I suppose I should. It is getting quite late.” Her attention shifted to the window where the moon’s glow illuminated the night sky. “Are you sure you’ll be all right here alone?” 

“Yes, yes, now go,” Chloé replied, ushering Juniper out of the bakery. “Goodnight, Juni!” 

Juniper shot her a smile before stepping out onto the dimly-lit street, where the sounds of the city hit her all at once: strums of the guitar from a nearby busker, tires screeching on the Rue de Rivoli, and the giggles of children over a shared secret. Yet, despite the noise and her recent interaction with Chloé, she felt more alone than ever. As much as baking had become a sanctuary for her, she couldn’t quite shake the yearning in her heart at the thought of being able to share her creations with someone: someone to whom she could pass her recipes; someone who would take over the bakery once she could no longer tell the difference between flour and caster sugar; someone who would call her “mama,” and whom she could call “my child.” 

Juniper had always wanted children of her own, but it seemed like life had other plans for her. Being the owner of one of the most famous bakeries, she hadn’t had much time to find the right person, let alone start a family. 

As the boulangère trudged into her apartment, the noise outside was drowned out by the silence in her home. She longed for the delicate patter of tiny feet racing down the halls as her child eagerly rushed to greet her, but no such greeting ever came. 

At least, not yet.

Juniper retrieved her phone and combed through her emails with a mixture of hope and apprehension. When she spotted the sender’s name that she was looking for, her pulse quickened as she opened it.  

Bonjour, Mlle. Martin, 

We appreciate your interest in adopting a child through our agency. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we are unable to move forward with your application. 

We understand that this news may be disappointing, and we want to assure you that our decision is not a reflection of your personal qualities but rests, rather, on the fact that the number of children is limited and the demand outstrips it. 

We will be re-reviewing your case and will be in touch should we change our decision. However, we would offer a gentle recommendation that you consider other adoption options in the meantime. We wish you all the best in your journey. 

Sincerely, 

 The Saint-Germain Adoption Agency

As she read, the sweetness of excitement sank into bitterness. This was the third adoption agency that Juniper had applied to and the third one to deny her application. 

Juniper felt tears start to blur her vision as she reread the message. The weight of crushing disappointment finally pulled her down onto the couch as sobs rose from deep inside and threatened to escape her throat. 

She tried to hold firm, but it was no use. The dam broke, and the tears flowed in waves of emotion. She cried for the children she would never have, for the emptiness of her home, and for the constant feeling of loneliness that seemed to course through her.

After a while, her sobs faded in number and intensity and, with another crack in her broken heart, Juniper sought sanctuary in the kitchen. She desperately needed distraction from the pain that always lingered. 

Wiping away any trace of sadness from her face, save for the red nose and puffy eyes, she began to bake. 

Finally, when it came time to knead the dough, Juniper shut her eyes and willed her power to form. 

This magic was unlike anything anyone had ever seen or heard of. It was a gift passed down through generations within her family and was said to come from the Goddess of the Moon herself. Being able to infuse each pastry with her emotions, she possessed the power to transfer happiness to all those who ate her creations. In the same way, however, she could also pass on her negative emotions, filling her customers with sadness – a feeling with which she was well acquainted outside her kitchen. 

At that moment, her heart was consumed with an intense longing. Unable to recall her happy memories, Juniper started transferring this yearning into the pastry.

With each breath, she pleaded, “Please help me to feel better,” and her powers listened. The dough began to glow as her eyes – stained red from tears – began to clear and the pain that had ached throughout her body melted away.

In its place, however, was a drowsiness that snuck up on her by surprise. Juniper had been so consumed by her task that she hadn’t realised the lateness of the hour. With heavy eyelids, she tidied up her workspace and called it a night, oblivious to the miraculous transformation beginning to take place in her very own fridge. 

Chapter 2

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

“Chloé?” Juniper yawned, as she tiptoed down the stairs. “I gave you a set of my house keys in case of emergencies, not for you to serve as a human alarm,” she chided. “If it is you making all that noise, no raspberry scones for a week!” 

THUMP

THUMP

CLANG 

Juniper stiffened. Throughout her time in Paris, she hadn’t encountered an intruder. 

Not anymore, it would seem. 

As she crept her way into the kitchen, she noticed the faint smell of vanilla as well as the refrigerator door being slightly ajar. She surveyed the room until her eyes landed on a white, mound-shaped piece of dough, lying incongruously on the floor, an anomaly against the always spotless hardwood. 

Her brow furrowed. “It must’ve fallen when I was baking last night,” she murmured to herself. Still apprehensive at the lingering thought of an intruder, she slowly bent down to pick up the piece – that is, until it twitched.

Juniper lurched back and then froze. Her eyes widened as a pregnant pause descended.

Then the mound started to roll. 

“What are y-” 

“Mama!” 

It spoke. The dough spoke. Well, “spoke” might be a bit of an overstatement. Surely, the muffled sound, which she could have sworn uttered the word “Mama,” was just her imagination and definitely not the voice of an inanimate object.

“Mama!” 

The voice was clearer this time. Juniper’s heart thudded noticeably.

“Mama?” the dough asked, “you there?”

The dough was “walking” on its own now, taking on a distinctly human-like form.

Juniper took another step back, her eyes darting around the kitchen for something that could help her make sense of what was happening. But nothing would calm her swirling thoughts. It was just the dough and her, alone. 

She swallowed hard, stopped moving, and took a hesitant step closer. “W… who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. 

The dough turned to face her; its soft, pliable body shifting under the dim morning light of the kitchen. As Juniper stared at it, she could make out little ridges on its sides and bottom, resembling limbs. 

“Mama know me?” it asked. “I mama’s child.” 

Juniper’s mind went blank.

This couldn’t be real, could it? And yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it was just a hallucination, she couldn’t deny that this leavened mixture of flour, water and other inanimate ingredients was ‘alive’ and speaking to her. 

All of a sudden, she felt a surge of emotions wash over her; fear, wonder, and awe bubbling within. 

Then, Juniper did the last thing anyone would expect to do in a situation like this. 

She laughed. A joyous, uncontrollable, liberating laugh.

She laughed until tears streamed down her face and her sides ached. “I’m a mother,” she exclaimed to herself, “I’m a mother!” Scooping the dough in her hands, she embraced it tightly. 

The dough let out a surprised yelp but it was drowned out by Juniper’s uncontrollable giggles. 

“Mama!” the dough beamed.

“My child!” Juniper beamed back. 

A thousand questions flooded her mind. She knew her powers were strong but never did she imagine they could be capable of creating life. 

Just then, a buzzing came from her phone, snapping her out of her reverie. 

“H-hello?” 

“Where are you?” Chloé’s voice came through, urgent and sharp. 

Juniper was still in shock at the events she’d just experienced. Having witnessed the miracle of life appear in the middle of her kitchen floor and having finally achieved her lifelong dream of being a mother, she had a bit of trouble forming coherent thoughts. 

Nonetheless, she pulled her wits together. “Still at home, why?” she asked, holding the dough in her arms. 

“I can’t find the keys to the bakery anywhere and we open in less than an hour.” 

Juniper looked around, spotting the keys on her dining table. She must’ve taken them with her by accident instead of leaving them with Chloé. “I have them. I’ll be there in ten,” she replied before hanging up.

Placing the dough on her kitchen counter, she weighed her options. Leaving it alone may result in a disaster, but taking a sentient piece of dough to the bakery could raise more than a few eyebrows. 

Still, she couldn’t bear to part with her newfound kindred soul.

Deciding on the latter, she wrapped the dough in a sheet of tinfoil before gently placing it inside her bag. 

With a deep breath, she grabbed the keys and headed out the door, heart racing with excitement and nerves. 

Chapter 3

“Salut, Chloé!” Juniper waved. 

Chloé turned. “There you are!” She kissed Juniper’s cheek. “I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t be able to bake the pastries in time.” 

Juniper unlocked the door. “Nonsense.” She replied, “You know we never get customers this early.”

They stepped inside. 

“Maybe today will be different. Once passersby get a whiff of our chocolate croissants, that is.” 

Juniper scoffed, amused at her friend’s optimism. She set off to arrange the tables and chairs when the leather skin of her bag began to pulsate as if being pounded from the inside by a tiny hand. 

Quickly, she peered inside to see the dough trying to climb out. “So dark,” it whined.

Feeling pity for her ‘child’, she carefully extracted it and placed it on a nearby shelf, where she could concentrate on her work yet have it within her gaze.

Leaving the dough to its own devices, she continued setting up shop until it was time to open. 

As the clock struck nine, the doorbell chimed and a customer came in; a short, stout man with a frown etched on his face. 

“Bonjour!” Juniper greeted him from behind the counter. “What can I get you?”

The customer peered at the selection with disinterest. “A chocolate croissant, please,” he replied gruffly.

Juniper smiled to herself as she thought about what Chloé had said earlier. “That’ll be three euros please,” she replied, handing the man the parchment-wrapped pastry.

The man muttered “thanks” as he took a bite of the croissant. Juniper watched with bated breath. Instantly, his face transformed. His frown began to disappear, and in its place appeared a wide grin. 

“Mademoiselle,” he said, in awe, “this is incredible.”

Juniper couldn’t help but laugh at his shift in demeanour. “Is it that good?” she asked.

“Oui,” he replied, shaking his head in wonder. “You know, I didn’t believe my friends when they raved about this place, but I do now. You’re a magician.”

Juniper smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She looked at the piece of dough on the shelf, smiling at her, and she felt that warmth intensify multiple times over. She thanked the man for his compliments as another customer walked in. Her day continued in the same vein, with a constant stream of customers and never-ending baking. 

As the sun began to dip below the horizon and the sky took on a violet hue, Juniper closed up shop with a sense of joy and satisfaction. Despite the tiring day she had experienced, she felt an uncontrollable surge of happiness. Throughout her shift, she would constantly steal glances at the dough and, in return, it would greet her with a grin or sometimes even a wave; or as close of a wave as it could make with its little nibs for hands. 

Wrapping the dough back into the tinfoil, she carefully tucked it into her bag. Bidding farewell to Chloé, she stepped out into the night. 

“Pinch me,” Chloé exclaimed, halting Juniper in her tracks. “I must be dreaming! Our great workaholic actually wants to go home on time?” 

Juniper gave her an amused eye roll. “I have some family in town,” she fibbed.

“No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood all day,” Chloé remarked. “You seem really happy, Juni.” 

Juniper couldn’t help but glance at her bag. “I am,” she replied. “Well, have a good night, Chlo.” 

“Good night, Juni,” Chloé smiled, retreating into the bakery. 

Juniper continued onward, eager to see her child once again. 

Upon reaching home, she immediately took it out from her bag and placed it on the kitchen counter. 

“Hello, little one,” she said. “Would you like to keep me company as I cook?” 

The dough leaned forward; its smile fixed on its pale face. 

Taking that action as a yes, Juniper let out an excited giggle and began making dinner. 

The dough sat by her as she ate. Unable to consume food, being a piece of food itself, it was content just watching her. 

It stayed next to her as she cleaned her house and changed her clothes. 

And, when it was time to go to bed, the dough nestled beside her as she fell asleep, greeting her with a cheerful “Mama!” the moment she woke up the next morning.

Her week floated by in a similar way: spending every moment she could with the dough – bringing it with her on errands, to work, even to the other rooms in her house – and, it was because of this constant companionship that her mood seemed to improve greatly.

And her pastries were a testament to that. 

The positive feedback from her customers was a much-needed boost for her, but what made her even happier was the sight of her dough, smiling at her from across the bakery. 

It was truly the best gift she could have ever asked for. 

Which is why she couldn’t understand why its mood seemed to sour. 

The dough hadn’t smiled the whole day. 

While it wasn’t necessarily frowning, it had been uncharacteristically silent. Juniper couldn’t help but worry. She tried talking to it, showering it with love and affection, but nothing seemed to cheer her little dough up.

As the days went by, Juniper couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. She continued to make pastries, receiving the usual flurry of compliments from those who ate her food, but nothing could take her mind off the dough. 

Then, things took a turn for the worse when it began to cry. 

It happened one night after Juniper came home from work. 

It was a quiet sound, one that only she could hear, but it felt deafening to Juniper. 

As she cradled the dough in her hands, she felt cracks beginning to form on its surface; its once smooth face was now riddled with fissures and bumps. She embraced the dough, thinking that perhaps if she willed hard enough, it would return to its old self. 

But alas, it continued to sob, its tears seeping into the cracks of its body. 

“Seven days?” Juniper asked in disbelief. “Is that all I get?” It was unclear to whom she was speaking; she didn’t even know herself. God? The universe? The dough? The only thing she knew for certain was that her time with her child was fleeting.

Juniper thought back to that night, racking her brain for the cause of the dough’s sudden unhappiness. She then remembered how she had felt when she kneaded it. 

Sadness. Despair. Hopelessness. 

Juniper hadn’t realised that the dough absorbed it all. Nor had she realised just how much of a strain she put on herself. 

“I’m sorry, my child,” her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for forcing you to carry my pain for so long. I’m sorry for carrying all this torment within me.” She gently kissed the dough’s forehead, her eyes fluttering shut.

“You’ve shouldered my burdens for long enough.” 

Its tears began to slow; understanding the gravity of the situation, it smiled at Juniper and closed its eyes. 

Juniper hugged it with all her strength as it crumbled in her hands. With a trembling breath, she allowed it to fall to the ground. The pieces lay scattered around her. 

For a moment, she just sat there among the remains, feeling the weight of her sadness returning to her… until she thought back to this past week and how much happiness she had spread to her customers. 

Slowly, she sat up. Despite the loss of her companion, she felt a surge of gratefulness well up within her. The dough had brought her immense joy; joy that she was able to pass on to those around her. Seeing the smiles light up their faces as they bit into her pastries was a gift on its own, and one she had failed to fully appreciate before. 

She knew that her healing journey was far from over, but she felt content, excited even, to greet the next day. She felt eager to go to work, to see the smiles of her customers, and to be the source of their joy, just as the dough was for her. 

In the days that followed, Juniper’s mood remained blissful. 

She made her pastries with a new sense of purpose this time. Her creations were no longer a respite from her sadness, but a celebration of the joy she was slowly rediscovering.

Customers still flocked to her bakery, but their compliments held a new weight with Juniper– they were a testament to her resilience and strength. 

And, although the little dough was gone, she could still feel its presence in whatever she created. It was a reminder of the pain she had carried for so long, but now could finally let go of. 

As she closed up shop one evening, the nightly sounds of the city filled her ears once again. But, today, she found herself singing along to the buskers and laughing with the children as if she were one of them. With a spring in her step, she basked in the light of the moon, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. 

As Juniper lifted her head to the sky, she felt a vibration in her pocket: her phone. She answered. “Hello?” 

A cheerful voice filled her ears. “Good evening,” it said, “I apologize for the late hour. Is this Juniper Martin?” 

“This is her.” Juniper replied, still staring at the moon. “Who is this?”

“Ms. Martin,” the voice replied, “this is the Saint-Germain Adoption agency. I have wonderful news.” 

 

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About the Author
Tans, who calls the Philippines and India home, is an active sophomore at PolyU. She has been involved with the English Debate Club, Robotics Club, and Inscribe. She also works as a student researcher for her major, computer science and linguistics. When not in class or student ‘clubbing,’ Tans enjoys reading a variety of genres, including classic novels, memoirs, essays, and the occasional romance book. She seems well on her way to achieving her dream of being a machine learning researcher at an esteemed university.

Author’s Reflection
While I’ve never been an avid reader of fantasy novels, I chose to enrol in ELC1A04 because I love writing and saw the course’s exploration of the fantasy genre as an opportunity to challenge myself. However, when the time came to write my own fantasy story, I was at a loss. No matter what direction I considered, every idea seemed to border on the childish or absurd. That was until I recalled a short Pixar film, Bao, that I had watched with my younger sister a few years ago. That film resonated deeply with me, evoking the bittersweet feelings associated with growing up, facing adulthood, and separating from family.

My story touches on these themes but focuses more on the mother’s perspective than the child’s. I wanted to explore the emotional complexities of motherhood: the joy of anticipating parenthood, the struggles of nurturing a child, and the heartache of watching them grow and eventually leave. Through this lens, I hoped to convey the bittersweet journey of love, loss, and letting go.