December 14, 2006

Dear Diary,
It’s me, Frank the Gingerbread Man. What joy to be given life! This land I am in is beautiful- the hills of verdant mint and the taffy trees, ever dewy. My house is a beautiful building- only the best graham cracker!- and in it my family and friends and I spend many hours admiring the chocolate moldings. Dare I compare this world to Eden? I dare!

Love,
Frank, GBM



December 16, 2006


Dear Diary,
It seems everyday more and more Gingerbread People are created! We all live so happily, often playing gumball Olympics and brushing each other’s licorice hair. Life is sweet- pun intended!

Happy as a Gingerbread clam,
F, Gingerbread Man



December 20, 2006

Dear Diary,
Things are still going pretty well. There is some concern in the community that we are not taking care of our land, as many of our resources are slowly disappearing. It seems the butterscotch river has run dry, and just yesterday my pretzel weathervane was simply gone! Oh well, at least we still have running pudding in our faucets, and we shall always have each other!



December 22, 2006


Diary,
What is happening to this paradise?! Snickerdoodle Mountain has completely eroded away, and several of my close friends have recently suffered some great, inexplicable bodily traumas. I haven’t seen my brother Brendan the Gingerbread Man for several days, and I fear for the worst. Who is doing this? Thank God for the peppermint emergency room.

Yours,
Frank



December 25, 2006


Diary!
We are most definitely in a state of war, though I do not know who we are fighting. All I know is misery. I have very little family left. Since my last entry much has changed.

Everyday more of us are disappearing. Remnants of Brendan’s arms were found yesterday by the school, whose roof bears teeth marks. Grandmother has disappeared; Father Callahan’s leg was amputated below the knee.
Who are these people, and why are they doing this to us? When will all this pain stop?

Our once peaceful village is rife with signs of slaughter. Crumbs litter our parks. Yesterday I stepped in a pile of jelly-blood and caramel-human-waste. Not three feet in front of me I saw a gum drop, which was likely a breast, or a nose or something.

What we know about the enemy is the following: He is large, perhaps as big as several melons. He is heartless and does not respect our culture. He is dangerous: some recent intelligence confirms that he has milk capabilities.
Of all the terrible things I could have imagined- the toffeeslides, batter quakes, attacks of the Cakepeople- I have never been so afraid. Though I am lucky enough to have kept all my limbs, I have found that I can no longer move. What terrible monster has frosted me to this one spot, making me defenseless to all the horror!

I pray that I may write to you again,
Frank