The Donut Palace

Today's TRDC prompt was to write a story (fiction or non-fiction) about the picture of the donut. I don't know why, but something about the picture made me imagine I was really tiny and I wanted to climb on the donut! So I wrote it as if I was an ANT. Don't ask. 


Sunday is my favorite day because we get to eat a donut from The Donut Palace.

My dad picks the biggest donut he can find and carefully carries it so none of the frosting or sprinkles fall off. He waits in line with the other dads. Then they all march in unison back to the colony.

Their feet move quickly and with purpose like a silent army.

"They're here!" we all yell.

We see a rainbow of colors. We can barely contain our excitement. This is going to be the best Sunday ever.

The donuts barely hit the ground and we are all over them like flies at a picnic.

"Dad, what's the donut shop like?" I ask with a mouthful. He's told me a thousand times, but I never get tired of hearing it.

"Well, there are huge bags of flour, sugar and sprinkles everywhere." he explains, as he's catching his breath from the long walk home.

"And rows, and rows, and rows of shiny donuts." We are all listening, imagining how amazing that must be. And wondering when we'll be old enough to go.

"Some are chocolate, some are rolled in sugar and some are filled with jelly." he says with a twinkle in his eye.

We feast until our tummies are about to burst and we can't eat any more.

Then my dad makes the most amazing and wonderful announcement.

"We're moving to The Donut Palace." he says.

"Our family is growing. The colony has plenty of workers. I have a lot of hungry mouths to feed. The Donut Palace has a nice garden out front. Fresh flowers for mom. And lots of nooks and crannies for you to play in. I know you'll miss it here. But this is a great opportunity." he says looking around at all of us with loving, concerned eyes.

I pinch myself. This can't be happening.

The next day we arrive at The Donut Palace and see this.

It's like a dream come true. I blink my eyes. It's not a mirage. It's like Mount Olympus. We stand at the base and look up in awe, mouths watering, our tongues licking our lips in anticipation.

We begin the climb. The shiny frosting is like freshly fallen pink snow. Our feet sink in. The sprinkles are like moguls. We trudge up the side until we reach the summit.

This is the best day of my life.


PS. My daughter read the story and asked if we could move to The Donut Palace. Ha.