The Baker of Blood

Where Am I?

It was a very cold night, I tossed and turned in my slumber, I had very
horrid dreams that felt so life like, so real, I felt a strong sense of
calmness as I woke from my sleep. I looked around, strange, I thought, the
house I woke up in was very pink, the taste of sugar filled the air with a
very strange disturbingly calm sense, the furniture was so clean and new,
almost like it had never been touched, the colour scheme for said
furniture was purple and blue.

I got up from the bed I had awoken in. It was strange, I had never seen
this house before, I could not recall any time in my life I had been here,
in fact, I can't recall any part of my life, nor my name, everything past
the horrid nightmares were fuzzy and no longer filled my mind with my
memories. I had no idea of whom I was.

With this, I stood and marveled at my clothes, like the furniture, they
were bright, I was wearing a pink button up long sleeve shirt, with a
purple vest over the top, brown pants and a blue bowtie, but what struck me
as odd was the red patches on my shirt. Could that have been from an
accident in bed? I thought to myself. Maybe I had scratched myself
previously.

I stepped out into the hallway, the sugar drenched air, was thicker, like
it was coming from a specific area, I walked past pictures of what seemed
to be the owner of this house, he had blonde hair, freckles and looked
quite sweet, his eyes were quite interesting, some photos he had bright
blue eyes, others he had pink swirls in the center of them, quite a lovely
looking man, he must have let me borrow some of his clothes.
The hallway got smaller and smaller as it drew to a close, a
door that looked quite similar to a cupcake was standing in the way, I had
opened it up only to hear a slow demented version of an ice-cream vans
horn, and it sent a shiver down my spine as I walked in. The sugar taste
was almost sickening at this point, the taste in the room was sweeter than
anything ever imaginable, and as the door slammed shut behind me I realized
what I was staring at.

I stood in place, frozen, trying to process what was in front of me, it
took a good two minutes to realize the brutal murder scene on the kitchen
floor, The black and white tiles were stained with blood, the kitchen
benches that used to be granite, now soaked with the red liquid, basically
cascading down the cupboards. There were three mixing bowls on the counter,
they had organs and other assorted body parts covered in flour, next to the
bowels were two cupcake trays, and next to those sat a whisk, covered in
blood, and what looked to be a kidney.

I fell to the ground covering my pants in the blood; I started realizing
the situation I was in and decide to look around to find clues. I searched
in the brown cupboard in the hallway; it had a few cookbooks, pictures and
cupcakes on it. In the bottom draw of the cupboard there were a few
trinkets, a snow globe with a snowman in the middle, a plastic rose covered
in soot and ash, and a baseball cap that looked to be quite old. I felt as if I should
have given up on the search. But then I discovered a vital clue. Next to the fire sat
an old grandfather clock, placed below the pendulum was a book,  I opened
up the clock and took a peek inside, an old journal covered in bunny
stickers lay covered in dust, I had no hesitation to open it up, the first
part read:

'Dear journal,
My mummy might be coming home today! But in the meantime, I have to live
with papa François, he's very mean to me, but he is mean to my brother
Allen as well, although Allen is papa's actual son, and I'm papas step son,
I bet one day he will accept me into the family!'

The more I read the more I understand this boy:

'Dear journal,
I have finally moved away from my step father, the chain smoking French
man has been rude to me for the last time, it was sad to say goodbye to my
beautiful little brothers Allen and Mathew, but I'm twenty now, and I have
a dream! A dream to become a famous baker, and to make many new friends,
hopefully my new neighbors in London will be nice to me,'

The writing became bigger, and a lot messier the further I read into the
journal:

'DEAR JOURNAL,
MY NEIGHBOURS MAY HATE ME, CALL ME A DEMON, THEY MAY KICK ME DOWN, THEY
MAY TRY AND BURN MY HOUSE DOWN, BUT THEY STARTED IT, THEY SHOULD HAVE
ACCEPTED ME! THEY SHOULDN'T HAVE HURT ME! SO WHAT IF I KILLED A MAN?  HE
DESERVED TO DIE!'

My hands shook as my eyes brimmed with tears, my heart almost bounced out
of my chest, I felt cold, the goose bumps and sick feeling. I dropped the
book and ran through the halls, trying to find a way to escape from the
mad-man. I saw a large cupcake shaped door, the smell of fresh air soothed
my sugar induced headache, it was wide open, almost like he was letting me
go. I sheepishly walked out the front and down the long staircase covered
in dead scattered roses, the night sky was pitch black with a bright full
moon covered in swirling clouds. I had never felt so free. It was a
slightly cold night, very quiet and still, I stared at my feet, the roses
on the ground, passing pennies and used gum on the way, I had no clue
where I would go, but anywhere is safer than with a murderer. I passed a
lake and a church, when I saw out the side of my eye, a boutique shop, it
had lovely ball gowns. It looked bright and safe, I walked closer to the
nicely lit shop, when it struck me, I could finally see what I looked like,
they had mirrors in the store that could show me who I was. I skipped into
the store, with glee in my step, to see what I looked like. I waltzed to a
large mirror covered in white iron swirls, I starred deep into the mirror,
in disbelief. No... it couldn't be... The face of pure evil was staring at me!
My freckles, my blonde hair, and my blue eyes, covered in pink swirls, the
man I was running from all along, was myself...