Overturned
March 30, 2026 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic tagged as compassion, Cooking school, Dianna Sinovic, turnovers
Hannah dipped a brush into the egg wash and spread the pale fluid over the turnovers, mentally crossing her fingers. Beside her and across the steel work table from her other students concentrated on their entries. She had to ace this final exam; if she didn’t, her budding pastry career would never rise to reality.
She slid the tray of turnovers into the oven and set her timer. Some students had their trays in the oven ahead of her, but at least five others were still assembling. Their instructor, Bridget, a tall, large-boned woman with a perpetual frown, kept her gaze moving around the commercial kitchen.
“This is no time to dawdle,” the instructor said, addressing the room. “The clock is ticking.”
Indeed. The test required that the turnovers be done to perfection by a specified time. Hannah relaxed slightly; hers were baking. She had nothing more to do until she removed them from the oven and placed them on the cooling rack.
Pastries. Turnovers. Cakes. Pies. She wanted to make them all. Every day. And if she passed this final exam, she could open her own shop, maybe. Someday.
She was pulled out of her daydream by soft sniffles. The student to her right was frantically stuffing her turnovers while sobbing softly. Pamela, slender as a spatula, routinely was the last to complete a class baking assignment.
The other students, all of whom now had their entries in the ovens, chatted in clumps, ignoring Pamela, although a few sidelong glances said they were quite aware of her struggle.
According to the class rules, each student was to work alone. This was not about collaboration but the ability to complete a task within a time frame. It required focus and efficiency. Pamela seemed lacking in the latter, but to her credit, she never asked for help.
To hell with the rules. Hannah washed her hands and stepped up beside Pamela.
“You fill and I’ll crimp,” she said. “You’ll be done ASAP.”
With a small gasp and a look of gratitude, Pamela moved over to allow Hannah to join her. There was a rise in murmurs from the other students, and Hannah felt the instructor’s eyes on her.
“Miss Stevens, you know the class guidelines,” Bridget said. “This is solo work only. Miss Murray must complete the assignment by herself.”
Hannah did not look up, did not stop her work. Within minutes, the batch was prepped, brushed, and in the oven.
“Thank you,” Pamela whispered, her flushed face turning even redder. “I know it’s not allowed, but . . . ” Her eyes teared. “I’m going to flunk anyway. And now you are, too. Why I thought I could do this . . . ”
Hannah hoped her smile was reassuring. “That’s bullshit. You won’t flunk. You’ve turned out some nice pieces.” She searched her memory for something she could call out, but came up blank. Mostly burnt or underdone. Unappetizing. Bitter flavors.
“What’s your plan after the class ends?” Hannah helped wipe down the table and wash the prep tools.
“To open my own shop.” Pamela looked away. Exactly what Hannah dreamed of. “I’ve got the business savvy down. My dad’s a CPA, and I’ve soaked up what he does. Numbers are my happy place. But baking . . . ” Her words trailed off.
Bridget, the instructor, circulated through the kitchen, stopping to inspect each turnover batch as it emerged from the oven, making notes on her black clip board. By the time she made it around to their side of the work table, Hannah’s turnovers sat cooling on a rack. The aroma made Hannah’s stomach rumble. The crusts were perfectly crisp and brown.
Leaning over the table, Bridget surveyed the platter and nodded briefly. Hannah handed her a knife, and the instructor cut one turnover exactly in half, then sliced a sample. Another nod as she chewed and swallowed.
Pamela, meanwhile, removed her batch from the oven.
Scribbling on her assessment sheet, Bridget gave no hint of her judgment. “Under normal circumstances, your work would place at the top of the class,” she said. “But unfortunately, I must give you lower marks for ignoring the rules.”
“That’s not fair,” Pamela said, her voice rising. “Hannah stepped in because she knew I was behind. It was an act of compassion.” She glanced at Hannah. “And I’m grateful. Don’t mark her down for that.”
Bridget gave a half-smile. “I’m afraid compassion has no place in a commercial kitchen. Speed and efficiency are what matter. As well as a superior product, of course. Miss Stevens must learn that if she hopes to succeed.”
Pamela reached in front of Hannah and picked up half of the turnover the instructor had sliced. She took a big bite, chewed and smiled. “Well, this is a ‘superior product’ despite the compassion she showed.”
“With all respect,” Hannah said, “I think there’s room for kindness along with efficiency. A kitchen staff has to feel part of a team, and you get there by practicing empathy. At least, my staff will.”
“You’ve a long way to go, Miss Stevens,” Bridget said. “You’ll learn or go under.”
Hannah fought the urge to argue back. She wouldn’t win. Instead she turned to Pamela.
“I have an idea.” She took a breath and realized she had the attention of the entire class. “What if we partnered? I hate math, so you keep the books, and I do the baking.” She quickly added, “You could help bake if you want.”
Hannah bit into one of Pamela’s turnovers and squelched her reaction to the off-putting flavors. With luck, the shop would keep Pamela too busy with sales to allow time in the kitchen.
It was after Pamela’s squeal of approval, and after class had ended that Hannah opened the handwritten note the instructor had attached to her graduation certificate.
“The test of any person lies in action.” Below it, in red, her grade: an A.
Some of Dianna’s Books
Full of Scorpions Is My Mind by Dianna Sinovic
December 13, 2025 by Bethlehem Writers Group in category From a Cabin in the Woods by Members of Bethlehem Writers Group tagged as Bethlehem Writers Group LLC, Dianna Sinovic, Macbeth, Something wicked this way comes, weird sisters
My long relationship with “the Scottish Play” dates back to grade school, when I was assigned the role of one of the Weird Sisters (was the teacher trying to tell me something?). Two other girls and I paraded around a faux cauldron to intone those famous lines:
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
I’m pretty sure my class did not stage the entire five acts of Macbeth, which seems too macabre for that age group. But I suppose that early exposure to the witches/weyward ones led me to my writing path of paranormal and horror.
Seeing the play again recently reminded me how powerful it is, and how it still speaks to the human condition and the ability of power to corrupt. It is, according to Meghan Winch writing in the Lantern Theater’s program, “about an unfit and unaccountable ruler seizing power from the rightful sovereign” and illustrates that “the people below suffer most when there is instability at the top.” Stuff right out of today’s news feeds.
The play is also full of evocative phrases that live on even today, more than 400 years later: “when the battle’s lost and won”; “what’s done cannot be undone”; “I bear a charméd life,” and “the milk of human kindness,” among others. One particular phrase, in a line delivered by Macbeth, had special relevance to me as a mystery writer: malice domestic. These days it’s the name of an annual crime fiction fan convention.
The Lantern Theater in Philadelphia is an intimate space, a theater in the round; the onstage sparring with spears and swords took place only a few feet from the theatergoers. The aisle one seat to my right was a key passageway during the production: Macbeth and his Lady ran up that aisle, to murder Duncan, the king, and Macduff used it to discover the dead body. Settled in a front-row corner, I was so close to the action that I was probably the only audience member who could see the apparitions in Act IV, as they stood “hidden” behind a scrim to speak their lines.
And speaking of lines, a play (Shakespearean or not) embodies the oft-repeated “rule” in writing fiction: show, don’t tell. On the stage, dialogue and action are everything; there is no room for exposition. We understand the story via the words the characters speak and how others on stage react.
Regarding those infamous weird sisters, they seem to be more than mere witches. The lines they speak weave an incantation via the rhyme, the alliteration, and the strangeness of the words themselves. “Weird” from Shakespeare’s time did not mean “strange.” It stemmed from “wayward,” which referred to “destiny” or “fate.” As such, did the sisters make Macbeth commit the murderous crime? Or did that tendency lie within him all along?
That’s for you to decide.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
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BWG’s Books
Night Shift
September 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as Dianna Sinovic, flash Fiction, short story, transformation
A crab shell on the riverbank marked the end of day. No crab inside, just the empty carapace and claws, bright objects against the darker sandy grit along the water. Jyr laid thin branches of hemlock around the shell, then watched the river current flickering where the setting sun touched the ripples.
She had gathered bare sticks and limbs to make a fire, but that was for after night dropped its curtain over the landscape. For now, she sat cross-legged on the bank, next to the shell, and waited.
Soon, the heron had told her. The change was approaching. Was she ready?
She’d asked, “Will I like it?” The heron had preened, offering nothing else.
With a weathered branch, Jyr drew shape after shape in the damp sand. Maybe the runic symbols Belna had taught her as a child would help hurry along whatever lay ahead.
Six mallards swam past, their soft quacks of conversation weaving with the low rush of water over stones. A breeze from the northeast ruffled Jyr’s hair and brought the sharp scent of pine sap. Small rocks mixed with the finer sand pressed into Jyr’s bottom, forcing her to shift.
As the sun sank below the horizon, the river darkened. Instead of a fiery glint, the running water now reflected the spangle of stars emerging overhead.
And still Jyr waited, her stomach rumbling in a low growl. When?
As hard as she stared, nothing and no one appeared out of the night. Finally, a crab moved at the edge of the water, and with a quick stab she had it in her beak. Beak? Now standing, she lifted one leg and then the other, her knees bending backward, then she shook, feeling her feathers move and rearrange themselves.
Another crab, another swallow. Jyr resumed her slow stalk along the bank, the memory of what she had been already fading, like the shapes and symbols drawn in the wet sand.
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Dianna Sinovic, Featured Author
July 29, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Featured Author of the Month tagged as Dianna Sinovic, Featured author, new release, Scream of the Silent Sun
Author of the Month: Dianna Sinovic
Born and raised in the Midwest, Dianna has also lived in three other quadrants of the U.S. She writes short stories and poetry, and has just released a full-length novel, Scream of the Silent Sun.
She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Horror Writers Association, The American Medical Writers Association, and The Bethlehem Writers Group, LLC.
Dianna is a contributing author in the last four anthologies from The Bethlehem Writers Group, Season’s Readings: More Sweet, Funny, and Strange Holiday Tales, An Element of Mystery: Sweet, Funny and Strange Tales of Intrigue, Fur, Feathers, and Scales, Sweet, Funny Animal Tales and Untethered, Sweet, Funny & Strange Tales of the Paranormal. She has also contributed stories for the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable ezine, including “In the Delivery.”
Dianna also has a regular column here on A Slice of Orange, titled Quill and Moss, in which she frequently includes short fiction.
Other books by Dianna Sinovic
Dianna Sinovic, Featured Author
July 14, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Featured Author of the Month tagged as Dianna Sinovic, Featured author, new release, Scream of the Silent Sun
Author of the Month: Dianna Sinovic
Born and raised in the Midwest, Dianna has also lived in three other quadrants of the U.S. She writes short stories and poetry, and has just released a full-length novel, Scream of the Silent Sun.
She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Horror Writers Association, The American Medical Writers Association, and The Bethlehem Writers Group, LLC.
Dianna is a contributing author in the last four anthologies from The Bethlehem Writers Group, Season’s Readings: More Sweet, Funny, and Strange Holiday Tales, An Element of Mystery: Sweet, Funny and Strange Tales of Intrigue, Fur, Feathers, and Scales, Sweet, Funny Animal Tales and Untethered, Sweet, Funny & Strange Tales of the Paranormal. She has also contributed stories for the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable ezine, including “In the Delivery.”
Dianna also has a regular column here on A Slice of Orange, titled Quill and Moss, in which she frequently includes short fiction.
Other books by Dianna Sinovic
Featured Books
DANGER MUSIC
Her quirky assignment: solve a famous cold-case mystery for a magazine article. Then the killer reawakens.
More info →
ADVENTURES OF LEWIS AND CLARK BOXED SET
She thought marriage would be sex, laundry, and a mortgage.
Girl, was she wrong.
