The Chocolate Touch

Josie G, Columnist

The weather is warm and crisp, but my stomach aches with pain. Even though I just had lunch, my body craves the sweet goodness that is chocolate. The sun beats down on my face as my hunger increases with each step I take. My house has never seemed further away. I look up and down the street, searching for some store that might sell candy. 

A piece of gold flickers across my peripherals. I turn my head, hoping and praying that my favorite brand of chocolate, Cocoa Blitz, is the gold wrapping I see laying on the ground. I approach the wrapper and my heart soars when the familiar packaging greets me. Carefully picking the bar up in my awaiting palms, I unwrap the crisp packaging. I fumble the chocolate into my hands, and my stomach grumbles in response. Every nerve inside of me shivers at the anticipation of that luxurious chocolate hitting my tongue. As I swallow the sweet treat, my mind almost explodes. I had never ever had such a delectable chocolate bar. The treat tasted simultaneously bitter and sweet, and it perfectly hit my craving. I reached to grab my phone. I needed to post about this on my social media. As my fingers wrapped around my phone, the device slipped, falling to the ground with a shatter. 

I covered my ears as my phone hit the cement. My shoulder slumped and my stomach twisted with worry as I anticipated the devastating feeling of a broken phone, and I averted my eyes from the disaster as I reached to collect the phone. But it wasn’t there; I didn’t feel my phone – I felt chocolate… I slowly opened my eyes to see another bar of chocolate on the ground, but the bar was in the shape of my phone. Startled, I backed away and leaned on the fire hydrant next to me. Then, beneath my touch, the hydrant changed. The fire hydrant, once bright red, was now a dark brown. Chocolate. 

The next few hours went on like this. I touched objects, and magically, they transformed into chocolate delights. I touched everything I could, eating my way through the neighborhood. When I took my final steps home, my feet dragged along the ground. My stomach felt like it was a billion pounds, inflated with a burden of junk. Eating all of that chocolate was a horrible idea. Every bone in my body was rotten now. I think even my veins were filled with chocolate. 

I entered my home and sat down on a barstool, careful not to touch anything with my hands. Vegetables sat on the counter. My body screamed for the nutritional value I currently lacked. With the last of my strength, I shoved a head of lettuce into my mouth, ensuring my corrupting hands were far from the snack. I grimaced and gagged as I roughly chewed and swallowed the healthy food. 

My head started to spin. The floor beneath me gave out. I landed on my rug, my hands splayed on the floor beneath me but something was different. The floor didn’t turn into chocolate. No. It was my normal, wooden floor. I touched the pillow on my couch, and it too stayed the same: gray and fluffy. I was back to normal! My hands would no longer shower my world in chocolate. The lettuce cured me of my chocolate touch!

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