He had always had a good sense of smell. He could pick out various scents from among others since he was child. When he was around seven years old, his mom would take him to the local farmers market to buy produce and other things. He would go into various fruit and food stands and standing in the middle of the wooden bins he would see how many foods he could pick out just by smell. He could smell oranges, and tomatoes. He would be able to smell pears and the wet almost undetectable scent of lettuce. He would sometimes lose his mom in the labyrinth of food, and bins, and stands. He would never panic though he would stand still and inhale the scents around him.
His mom always smelled of Jasmine. He didn’t even know what Jasmine was, but he knew her scent, and he was always able to find her after a short time. He was master of his environment and even surrounded by the sharp aromas of food and other people he could always find his mom by scent, just so long as she didn’t get too far away.
Food was always stored in separate bins. He inhaled and tried to discern different foods. The smells rushed in on him and his stomach grumbled again. He could smell tacos and lasagna. He could smell herb baked chicken and ribs. He smelled barbequed shish kabobs and zucchini casserole. But under all those different smells he could just make out the weak, but rich, aroma of sourdough and wheat.
He took a chance on the smell of bread. The warm, soft undercurrent of wheat and the smell of his dad’s holiday herb bread. It was hard to isolate the warm soft smell, it kept being overwhelmed by the stronger smells of veil parmesan, or warm holiday pies. He walked to where the smell of bread seemed to be coming from.
He was walking easier now even though his body was still not entirely recovered from the numb sensation that had crippled him in the last room. He could remain up right, but he still needed to concentrate on walking. The surrounding smells only seemed to grow stronger the more he tried to ignore them. He was following the scent of bread which was getting stronger. He could feel warm melted butter on fresh corn bread melt in his mouth. His stomach was grumbling and he had to do his best to wipe away the sensation of tasting anything. Tasting everything and eating nothing was the cruelest torture he had ever heard of. The only way to escape was to find a way out of this room.
He walked till he hit an obstruction. He overbalanced and his hands slapped up against the wall of the room preventing him from falling. He felt around the wall and discovered that the smell of baked bread and cinnamon rolls had led him to a corner in the room. He raised his foot up over a step and stood atop what he imaged to be a square of raised floor.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The promise of food was killing him and he just wanted to be out of here. He faced the corner of the room and searched blindly with his hands. Sensation had returned to his hands, but they were still partially numb. He felt for a long time along the wall, searching his surroundings. Here the smell of bread and butter was maddening. He hadn’t eaten bread in a long time, hot cross buns and dinner rolls, fresh buttermilk biscuits and raisin bread was all he could think about.
He tried not to concentrate on how the melted butter tasted on a piece of freshly toasted cranberry bread and he searched faster. He reached over his head and felt a grove that had been cut into the rock wall of the room. He reached up with his other hand and slid his hands along the lip. The groove continued out of his reach. He grabbed the ledge with both hands and slowly crawled sideways, out away from the step.
He moved along the wall. The groove he was free climbing along was raising itself at an angle, which meant he was getting higher, and closer to the end of the torturous smell of food that made his stomach growl and only reminded him of how hungry he was. Of course, continuing to rise up along the wall, meant he was getting farther away from the floor. The last thing he wanted to do was fall and have to start over. The smell of food was only getting stronger the higher he climbed. He didn’t want to know how high off the ground he was. He slid his left hand along the groove then slid his right hand to meet his left and so on. It was slow tedious work. His fingers and arms were burning with this unfamiliar muscle strain. The groove wasn’t deep, only about three inches and his fingertips were not used to having to support his body weight.
He had the strong sense of tasting Haggis. He had never eaten Haggis before. How did he know what Haggis tasted like? He didn’t have time to figure that out right now.
He had reached the far corner of the room. His thoughts were invaded by the taste of strawberry ice cream drizzled with chocolate and garnished with even more fresh strawberries on top. He shook the thought away, but the taste remained.
His feet, found a similar set of grooves that his fingers were using. He slipped his toes and feet into the new groove below and was able to ease the tenson on his arms and fingers by sharing the load of his body weight with his feet. He moved along the wall, inching along with both hands and feet, inching ever upward as he moved.
He continued around the room in this fashion. His calves were soon burning, and his fingers were sore and stiff. He had made it across three walls. He could barely concentrate. With the smell of grilled steak in his nostrils and the crunching of his stomach more desperate for food, he had tried to lean against the corner of the room from the two sets of grooves he now clung to. He reached out for the adjoining wall and his hands met nothing but air. He overbalanced and had almost fallen. He managed to recover though… just barely. It had taken him several minutes standing in the grooves, terrified beyond all rational thought to pull himself together. He didn’t know how high off the ground he was, and he was sure at that moment he didn’t want to. With a lot of talking himself up he was able to move on to the other wall.