“Spice of Your Life” by Tamsin Wressell (Bournemouth, UK)
I don’t know how long I have been here, or where I am; in this murky, black hole. Being with my family and others like me is a distant memory. People used to walk past me, browse, take my friends, and throw them in a dingy metal basket where I would see them next to sauces and dairy products. I had looked at the time as the announcement was made, “ladies and gentlemen, this store will be closing in ten minutes, please take your purchases to the tills. Thank you shopping here at Sainsbury’s.” It was 9.50 at night, after losing a lot of the ones on my shelf; I thought I would be there for yet another day, with new seasonings put next to me by Martin, the shelf stacker I had become so familiar with. It was never me who was taken, I had become dusty at the back; Martin never thought to move me forward, until today. Sue, the store manager had noticed Martin’s incompetence for rotating stock and took it on herself to do his job. My surroundings had become quieter; a regular occurrence for the time of night it was, my senses became heightened, the scurrying of hurried footsteps, the flash of a vibrant mauve coat, a tightened grip around the middle of my body, and the smell of a pungent perfume lingered in the aisles. I could taste nothing. A few flashes of the lemon drizzle cake that had been piled on top of me in some plastic bag still came back to me at times.
For my time in this new-fangled, unfamiliar place, I had made a few acquaintances, but no one who I clicked with. Paprika was the oldest and wisest out of the seasonings, he hadn’t been used much so was still rather strong. He told me about the family who had bought me, the Seriau’s, a French family who had moved to England eighteen years ago before having their first daughter, Eloise. Paprika informed me of how they didn’t tend to open this space that he called a ‘cupboard’, apart from to use Olive Oil, a mysterious liquid, who never seemed to contribute much. From what Paprika had gathered, the Seriau’s had gone away for their yearly holiday to Calvi for two weeks, a time that the residents of the cupboard would dread every summer. He looked after me, and told me many stories of a seasoning that had been left on the table before the Seriau’s left; he called him Pepper, and said I would get on with him very well. All this time, I’d been anticipating the day that Pepper was put back in here, next to me. Paprika said Pepper had a soft spot for salts and had become attached to many in the past.
A few days had passed before I heard the noise of a door opening, wheels were rolled across the foyer; The Seriau’s were back. There was a lot of commotion coming from the other side of this emptiness; they seemed like a happy family, laughing and working together to create their supper of Carrot and Coriander soup with rustic cheese rolls. We had all become dreary and weak from the lack of radiance shone into our lives. My moment had come, “Elle, could you set the table please? Don’t forget the Salt and Pepper”. Luminosity filled the dingy cupboard and splashed on to me through the gaps in my lid, leaving my crystals to glisten contently. After an hour of listening to the stories and fabulous adventures of the Seriau’s holiday, I was put back in my home, this time, Pepper was too.
I had worked with Pepper a lot over the last few weeks; we entwined well and complimented each other. When I was used without him, I felt hollow and weak. He had seen many Salts come and go in his time, and felt nervous to become too attached to me; I was already half used and would have a month left at the most, whereas he was still 3/4s full. Our relationship was good, but not great, I felt like there was something missing, something to enrich my crystals and hydrate me. Friday night, and Elle had been sent to a takeaway to get Fish and Chips. After hearing this, Pepper had become distant and paranoid, he wouldn’t tell me why, only that he loved me but knew something was about to change our relationship. I was curious and frustrated at him, what was he going to do to betray me? Fifteen awkward minutes had past, whilst I felt weaker and parched. The luminosity once again grew larger as I was taken out of the cupboard. I looked back to see Pepper facing the other direction, I had never seen his ingredients list before, I knew this wasn’t good.
During fish and chips, I met someone new. I had been teamed with someone else to work with, his name was Vinegar. He was tall, solid of shape and quenched my thirst. He was different to pepper; I felt my crystals becoming replenished and refreshed. Our relationship grew from there as the fish and chip takeaways increased. I no longer talked to Pepper, and when I was put back with him, I would long for the next time I would get to see Vinegar again, I missed how he made me feel and how we worked together. Working with Pepper just wasn’t the same anymore; Paprika resented me for hurting Pepper so. The absence of Vinegar had affected me, as I started to become ill of health when I was stored away from him; his place remained to be the cupboard opposite.
A few days later, I was transferred from my plastic body to a glass, stronger container that twisted to crush my crystal pieces. I preferred it. I felt more like Vinegar as opposed to the other seasonings. I gloated over my strong, upgraded exterior, I figured seeing as no one in the cupboard liked me anymore, I may as well rub it in. The day came when pepper confronted me; he told me how he hated me for finding a different seasoning, and how I cracked him into a dust-like substance. I retaliated and accused him of being too dry and boring, it was then that I realised where my illness had been coming from; all this time, I thought it was my absence from Vinegar. That was not the case. It was Pepper’s intentions for me to become weaker.
I could hear a sudden movement within the cupboard, the condiments had teamed together to make Pepper move just as the cupboard was filling up with light again. His cracked, dusty elements sprinkled on top of me, overpowering me with an unusual sense of haziness. I sneezed the same time that the light filled up the cupboard. I was free falling, at what seemed an unusually slow pace, I had flashbacks of my life; the other Salts that were on my shelf, Martin, my time with Paprika and Pepper, and the last thing I thought of before I was let loose on the ground below, was Vinegar. I was stationary, with my container obliterated in pieces around me glistening, like me. I could see it happening. This was the end of me. A craze of fur with beady eyes came hurdling towards me, I saw a flash of an oversized crimson tongue, and I was gone, forever.