Sweet Revenge

This short story was inspired by the recent article about a missing gravestone that was found being used as a slab to make fudge on in someone's kitchen. Characters are my own and bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead. No disrespect is intended. 

For as long as anyone could remember, Granny Crux and Granny Waller had lived next to each other. And for as long as anyone could remember, they had been feuding.

Granny Crux was tall and thin as a bean pole, with a long, hooked nose like a olden days witch. Her clothes were a many times mended patchwork, so that no one could see what the original looked like.

Granny Waller was short and plump, with pink cheeks like a child. She still had all her teeth and the sweetest smile. She always wore a big starched apron that nearly engulfed her in its folds.

Granny Crux was a baker. She made cakes and pies and tarts that were so good, people flocked from miles around to eat them. People would even walk for miles along the dirt road to get a taste of her cooking.

Granny Waller’s talent was the same, but she was a confectioner. Fudge, taffy, Brighton Rock, you name it, she could make it. The children came from far and wide for her free samples, and she always greeted you with a smile sweeter than sugar.

In their youth, it was rumoured, Granny Crux had stolen Granny Waller’s sweetheart. Of course, they had first names back then, but no one remembered anymore. Now they were both just Granny.

Granny Waller found another young man. Both the ladies married, had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. They were both widowed and now lived alone, but for their many daily customers.

Every day, when the baking was done, if there was any lull between customers, they would take the time to fling open their kitchen windows and yell insults at each other. It was a part of the town life, and people would sometimes stand on the sidewalk and watch the two old ladies going at it like hammer and tongs. People would munch their pies and cakes, or suck on their sweets and watch. Sometimes they would join in, supporting their favourite. It seemed like this would go on forever.

Of course, all things come to an end. One day, when the customers came to Granny Crux’s house, the door was locked, the windows shuttered. Fearing an accident, they broke down the door. Granny Crux lay peacefully in bed. She had died in her sleep.

People came from miles around for her funeral. A collection was taken to buy a marble tombstone, a beautiful pink marble flecked with black. People brought their own, inferior cakes and left them by her gravestone as a symbol of respect and love.

After some time, however, people stopped making the pilgrimage to her grave. Some went to Granny Waller for their treats instead, but others remained loyal to their side of the feud, and went to the new bakery a town over, although the young baker there was no patch on Granny Crux. So it was that no one noticed Granny Crux’s tombstone was gone.

Granny Waller was said to have an extra spring in her step once her rival had gone. She named a fudge in honour of her long-time enemy and continued in her business for another forty years. She was estimated to be a hundred and twenty years old when she, too, passed. Right in the middle of making a new batch of fudge.

When she died, the people came from all around to pay their respects. Filing into the house, where she was laid out in state, they commented on their memories of the old ladies and their feud. All of Granny Waller’s children, grand-children, great grand-children and great-great-grandchildren were there.

The children were running a little amok, as children did. They didn’t understand the solemnity of the situation. There was a huge crash from the kitchen and everyone that could crowded into the doorway. A child had leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by the huge marble slab granny Waller made her confectionary on.

The parents ran at once to comfort their child, but everyone else was staring at the marble slab.  A pink marble slab flecked with black. Now laying the other way up to reveal the inscription: GRANNY CRUX.

It seemed Granny Waller really did have the last laugh.

Granny Crux’s tombstone was returned to its place, and Granny Waller was buried next to Granny Crux. People say that on a warm summer night, you can still hear their voices, bickering away.