LOGINSophia Bolton P.O.VIn the town of Calcuda, there was a tradition that they have done since the beginning the town was formed. Once a year, everyone would bake a pie and put one slice aside onto a small plate. They would then put that small plate outside of their door on the first step of their porch and leave it out overnight. Many people have their reasons of how the tradition started. Some saying that the piece of pie is for the loved ones that passed away when they visit that one night, and others say it is for those unfortunate souls that roam the streets at night, looking for a sweet treat. They called it “Sweet Treat” day.It sounded more like the name of a candy store, I thought to myself.While everyone was at home thinking ab
“Mama, why do you always give me pie when I am sad?” asked Valerio, with a tilt of his head.Maria bent down, eye level to her son and handed him a small plate with a small piece of homemade blueberry cheesecake pie on it. Love shined brightly in her bright green eyes, as she looked at her seven-year-old son. He looked just like his father each and every single day. With his curly black hair, gray eyes and natural long lashes framing them. His tears from falling on his bike, all gone and dried up. The only thing he had from her, was a small birthmark behind his right ear. It was hardly noticeably because of his curly hair covering his ear. Someone would have to physically move his hair away from his right ear, in order to see it. I did what needed to be done, she said to herself whenever she thought of his father.