chocolates - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There are chocolates scattered over the marble tile. Each one was a perfect sphere dusted with fine cocoa powder but now several lie cracked revealing peaks of caramel or rum truffle. The inspector halts so as not to tread on one and stops to take in the scene. An engagement ring of white gold and diamond is perched in a small black box and the room was lit only by candles which have now burnt themselves out and are no more than puddles of wax. Under the unforgiving lights of the forensics team the expensive delicacies on the floor are showing signs of melting. Whoever bought them was now either in a great deal of trouble or dead and it was his duty to investigate.
The chocolates lie in the moulded plastic tray. There are fondant squares and caramels, truffles and peanut brittle. I feel guilty for my disappointment. I usually get the artisan chocolates from a fancy chocolatier for special occasions; they are hand-crafted and decorated with flakes of nuts and white chocolate, their shapes are organic rather than cookie-cutter perfect squares and circles and they come in a gold box. These ones are from the supermarket, most likely on discount since it's past Halloween. They'll have a low percentage of cocoa and taste just of sugar. They won't melt in the mouth in the same way or be so rich. The ones I buy are worth the calories, worth having to work out a bit longer to off-set it. But these are just pointless. I feel like such a snob, first world problems, eh? My son bought me cheap candy and now I have to eat it whether I want to or not. I plaster a great big Mom-smile on my face like I've never seen anything so lovely and wrap him in a hug.
The chocolates could only be from Jake. It was the kind of thing he'd do. A mismatched collection of Hershey kisses, white chocolate mice and maltesers poured from their packet. She poked at them to see one of the purple Quality Streets sitting just below the top layer. They were in a yoghurt tub with tissue paper glued to the sides and underneath them was shredded tissue paper too. Underneath was a note, "ThANk You," was written in green crayon. She picked them up from her desk and took them to the staffroom to share.
“Let me just show you instead,” he answers, shaking his head. He waves his hand in a spiral motion and there is a golden shimmer. Then, out of nowhere, he is holding a square box the color of amethyst. He hands it to me and I turn it over in my hand, perplexed.
“Open it,” he instructs as I flip the thing over to find a seam. I pull and it gives away in my hand. Underneath the covering is an earthly brown plaque marked with tiny depressions that form several squares. I look up from the intriguing treasure to Apollo, who stands there, smirking.
“Open your mouth.”
I do as he orders. He takes the plaque and breaks a tiny square from it. He then places the broken piece on my tongue. I close my mouth and lick it.
It tastes sweet yet a tiny bit bitter. As I move it around my mouth, it slowly melts, its taste getting even better. A small moan escapes my lips as I finish the delicious sweet that can only be compared to nectar and ambrosia, the delicacy of the gods.
On the coffee table sat a large square box with a glossy black cover. Amber pried the lid off, her mouth watering - dark chocolate filled with cherries, some with caramel. She picked a singled one. Popping the chocolate into her mouth, her eyes closed - savouring the sweetness of the moment. Letting the lid fall to almost closed she picked up the little card, reading the scrawled inked handwriting...