Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be able.
Speaker 2: To handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended now
for tonights micro terror. Ginger's Gingerbread Disaster by Danny Dreadful.
It's December sixteenth, shouted Ginger from a distance. She burst
out of her room with her pen and notebook in hand,
and darted for the kitchen. And you know what that means.
Ginger's mother, Debbie exclaimed, it's Ginger was already sifting through
the pantry before her mother could finish her sentence. Tomorrow
was the holiday fair, which means that gingerbread bake off competition.
Ginger cried, She was smiling ear to ear. This was
a very special year for Ginger. This was the year
she could finally enter the competition without an adult. This
was the year she would bake all on her own.
It was a rite of passage for all the women
in her family. She, like all the others before her,
took this very seriously. To Ginger, this was more than
a lighthearted competition. She longed to please her mother, especially
given the significance of this event being tied to her namesake.
Before you go reading the pantry, you'll need this. Debbie
grabbed her cookbook and pulled out NaN's gingerbread cookie recipe.
She smiled warmly as she reminisced about the holidays spent
in the kitchen with Nan. It was a magical time.
They'd bake gingerbread men while listening to Christmas songs as
the snow glistened through the tiny window that sat just
above the kitchen sink. It was always snowing whenever they
baked the gingerbread men, and that was the real magic.
Debbie carefully handed Ginger the recipe. You must be very
careful with this recipe, Ginger, her mother said sternly. These
were not just any ordinary cookies. They were award winning
The recipe had been passed down from generation to generation,
and it was Ginger's turn to wow the judges this year.
As she stood in the pantry with her recipe in hand,
she began making a checklist of all the ingredients needed.
She checked off each ingredient one by one until Ginger
furrowed her brow and frowned. What's wrong sweets, Debbie asked,
already knowing what her daughter would say.
Speaker 3: I have all the ingredients in the pantry except for one.
I don't know what the special ingredient is. She sighed, Oh,
don't you worry about that. Once you get to baking,
I'll be sure to share it with you. Thanks, Mom,
you are the best. Ginger gave her mother a big hug,
then continued to pull all the goods needed from the pantry.
Now it was time to get baking. Ginger grabbed a
big mixing bowl and added in the sugar, cinnamon, allspice,
ground cloves, baking soda, eggs, brown sugar, unsalted butter, molasses,
and of course fresh ginger. She was just about finishing
up when she called out for her mother to bring
the special ingredient. She was as giddy as could be
as she impatiently waited for her mother to enter the kitchen.
Debbie arrived holding a small brown leather satchel. It looked
as old as time. The leather was weathered and worn out,
and it was tied shut by a single piece of
gold thread, which was barely hanging on. Ginger was not
expecting the special ingredient to be packaged in such a way,
but she did not question it. She was too eager
to finish up her hopefully award winning cookies. Now only
add a dash of this, do not add any more?
Do you hear me, Ginger? It is very important that
you abide by this rule, no matter what. Debbie's tone
was forbidding, and Ginger took note of the sternness in
her mother's voice. Ginger eagerly nodded her head in agreement
and impatiently rea for the satchel, almost tearing it from
her mother's hands. I'll be in my office if you
need anything, honey, she thanked her mother. Then shoot her
out of the kitchen. As she added in the final touch,
Ginger shaped her fingers into a pinch like state and
dug into the satchel perfect. Just as she was about
to mix all the ingredients together, she heard a faint whisper.
She shrugged it off and plugged in her hand mixer,
chalking it up to her overly active imagination. This time,
the whispers grew louder, and it sounded as though someone
or something was trying to get her attention. She could
not pinpoint where the sound was coming from until she
saw it. The leather satchel was glowing an irridescent green color,
and the whispers were now audible. It sounded like someone
was in her ear. No, in her head.
Speaker 4: Add more of me if you want.
Speaker 5: To ring, the voice said, do it now.
Speaker 4: Before your mother comes back. If you don't add more
of my delicious spices, you will never win. You will
be a disgrace to your family. Is that what you want?
Speaker 5: Ginger was in a state of shock. What in the
world was she witnessing right now? On the one hand,
she didn't want to disobey her mother, but on the
other she couldn't bear the thought of being a first
girl in her family to lose the competition. The voice
spoke again, this time in a softer, more gentler tone.
Speaker 4: Go on, just a few more pinches. That will do
the track, I promise.
Speaker 5: Ginger, knowing full well, she should have ignored the voice,
went over to the satchel, took three more pinches and
mixed them into the batter. She did not care what
the repercussions would be She just needed to win.
Speaker 4: Good, good child, you are sure to ring now.
Speaker 5: I promise. The voice hissed, and with one last menacing laugh,
the green glow dissipated and the voice faded away. Ginger
continued on. She mixed up the batter, rolled out her dough,
cut out gingerbread shapes, and put them in the oven.
Bake sale day, Ginger walked into the dimly lit gymnasium.
It looked like a scene straight out of a Hallmark movie.
Santa's sleigh was front and center, surrounded by his little helpers,
and cut snowflakes were dangling from the ceiling and walls
as a snow machine blasted artificial snow. Christmas lights glimmered
all around. There was a manora and a ten foot
Christmas tree, both shining brightly. Various vendors sold hot cocoa, popcorn,
and other goodies that Ginger was sure to indulge in
after the competition. This was certainly her favorite day of
the year. It would be even more so once she
won the competition. As she was taking in the sights,
she saw it. The life sized gingerbread man cut out
holding a sign that Read Gingerbread competition. She grew giddy
and raced over cookies in tow to set up her booth.
As the judges made their rounds, savoring each cookie one
bite at a time, they finally made their way to
Ginger's booth. Her palms were sweating and her heart was
raising as they each reached for a perfectly shaped and
beautifully decorated gingerbread man. Just as one of the judges
was about to dig into her cookie, a green, glowing
mist emerged. It was the exact same mist that appeared
in Ginger's kitchen. Not long after the mist took over,
a familiar, eerie voice echoed through the gymnasium, speaking in
an unknown tongue. Debbie stopped dead in her tracks, with
a look of pure terror up on her face. She
looked over at Ginger, whose facial expression was of equal terror.
Debby raced towards Ginger, but it was too late. The
once nearly three inch gingerbread men were now a staggering
nine feet tall and terrorizing the patrons of the bake sale.
They began by knocking down the booths of Ginger's competitors.
Then they tore each decoration down one snowflake at a time.
People screamed in horror and tried to take cover as
they watched the monstrous cookies come to life and take
over the fair. Then a voice whispered in Ginger's ear.
Speaker 4: See, I told you you'd will if there's no competition,
you will by default.
Speaker 5: The once picturesque fare was now giving more horror vibes
than Hallmark Debby shot. Ginger al of disappointment as she
watched the events unfold. Luckily, she was prepared for the worst.
She pulled out a worn out leather satchel which contained
a purple powder. She started sprinkling the powder around herself,
creating a circle while reciting an incantation. But just as
she shouted the last word into the air, everything froze
and began to rewind. Ginger was once again standing in
front of the judges, but this time there was no
mist no giant gingerbread men, and the look of terror
on the judges faces was replaced with cheerful smiles. Ginger
ultimately claimed the title of best gingerbread cookie baker, along
with a lesson that would forever stay with her. She
learned to never disobey her mother's warnings ever. Again, thank
you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday
for another scary story. For more fun, visit our website
at microterrors dot com, where we will also have spooky
games you can print out and play like Wicked word searches,
mysterious mazes, and more. Microterrors dot com is also where
you can find us on your favorite social media and
even send in your own scary story for us to tell. Plus,
you'll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly, who has
other horrors for both young and old. I hope you'll
join me again soon for micro Terrors Scary stories for
kids