Marking all the creaking stairs, so not to disrupt them, down to the cold chipped air, her small feet left steaming outlines as she pattered over the wooden floor boards.
A glimmering silver castle, sparkles dazzling, beaming from the torch light that she held in her nervous, crisp hand. The girl brought over a little wooden stool that had been packed at the bottom of the pantry, slowly took one foot onto the hand-painted bed of roses, still holding the base she stepped on the other. The girl formlessly brushed her young, wild hair behind off of her face and behind her ears, licked her doll-like lips quickly and stood up tall. She placed the torch on it's side, facing the nutty scented mystery, took one fluid dash with her dirt-grinding finger tips over the silvery mess, tearing the palace's seam.
Sweet moist air dripped over the girl, her pupils widened and a smile sprawled across her puffy rosie cheeks. She held one of the golden jewels above her mouth, allowing the dripping honey to melt on her hot tongue before sticking the entire gem into the deepness, sticky crumbs like rings on her hands were licked off into the sickly sweet mash she gnawed ferociously in her mouth.
The crispy, honey-soaken baklava sang in it's pride and glory, like a golden angel rubbing on a bed of sticky lilly pedals. And the girl giggled like a child suckling on her guilty fingers late into the night.
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