Mr. Marshmallow, Arnold was his name, lived the typical life of a marshmallow. He spent most of his days crammed together in a flimsy bag with other Mallows of Mallowville. Nothing important ever happened for the majority of the year.
But, each Mallow excitedly awaited Winter. A few times that perfectly crisp time of year, a Giant Hand would pick a select few to seal their fate. The days in Mallowville repeated one after the other and The Reaping of the hand was most enthralling, even if it meant certain doom. All Mallows could ever talk about was how they yearned to see the light once again before their death.
All Mallows except Arnold. He never talked of The Reaping. Instead he kept to himself. One summer day, when Arnold was a young boy, a bag of Jumbo Marshmallows sat next to his town. Through a crack, he heard of the bigger marshmallows and their fates were sealed in fire. He always wanted that ever since he was little, yet it would never happen for he was a Mini Marshmallow.
As the days shortened and the weather became colder, The Giant Hand appeared. All were in a frenzy and clamored upwards. Who will it be this time? It looks like the hand will choose a lot this round! Many Mallows pushed and shoved their ways around Arnold. Arnold stayed where he stood. He imagined himself over a set of flames. Maybe he roasted on a beach or in a back yard. Arnold saw himself skewered, slightly larger than his real stature, and in his mind he was burnt and soft.
In the middle of the daydream, just as he was about to get squished by graham crackers, he was lifted high into the air. The artificial lights blinded Arnold and the deafening cheers of each one around him caused a panic. He tried to jump, but the grip was too harsh. Not like this, his only wish was to be fulfilled in his ending. No one would remember the life of this marshmallow.
The air whooshed as The Hand's body pivoted. Everyone dropped out of The Hand into a hot vat of molten liquid chocolate. Arnold held on with his life. He stuck to the hand. He was too weak, of course. The Hand simply shook Arnold and he free fell into the mug.
He had never been so dirty. His coating of cornstarch and powdered sugar rinsed off and replaced with a thin layer of hot chocolate. The screams of those whom perished right away sounded like sizzles. Laughter and screams filled the mug and in just a few seconds, Arnold was the only one left.
He pleaded to the world, "Please, one more chance for me."
The cocoa bubbled out a face. She was not extremely beautiful, nor was she ugly. She calmed him and gently said, "I am sorry, sir. There is nothing I can do. This is your fate as much as it is mine." Ms. Cocoa rippled as The Hand's body came for a return to seal both of their endings.
As Arnold's structure deteriorated and he became soft and frail, he said, "I wished to go out by fire and have a lovely time ever since I was little. But, you understand the string we both hang on." And as Arnold melted away and as Ms. Cocoa comforted him, he felt his little marshmallow heart grow a bit bigger. Whether for Ms. Cocoa or the memories of his unfulfilling life, he would never know. And he smiled one last victorious smile before he fizzled out into a pool of what was before.