I know not whether an unlucky wanderer may still stumble upon it, deep in the damp alleys of that nameless, confining rat's warren on the northern shores of the Great Sea; although it has been many years since my paths have strayed so far from the beautiful cities I know and love so well, my memories of the place still haunt me. My dreams return again and again to its cloying aroma, its rustling shelves and groaning boards... It is as if by the very knowledge of its existence, I am doomed to the unpleasant remembrance of that shadowed house and its furtive baker.

Housed in a darkly leaning edifice facing ancient, sticky pavements, surrounded by decay and pastry flour, it lay in a chill blanket of silence, devoid of all warmth. A yellowing placard hanging from the upper story proclaimed "Baked Evils." The grey, furtive folk who stumbled from the doorway carried small white paper sacks in a manner which implied some great burden was concealed therein. I am still uncertain as to whom those miserable patrons were, but I have long suspected the worst...

As I approached the front of the shop in morbid wonder, I was able to see pasted behind greasy glass a menu of sorts, albeit one whose unholy contents severely disturbed my resolve to explore the gloomy old city any further.

The crabbed, archaic writing spelled out (even now I hesitate to repeat these words, not knowing who may be listening):

The Cheese-Filled Danish of Unknown Kadath..5d
Pnakotic Apple Crisp........................3d
Cthulhu Cremes..............................2d
--Chocolate...........................add 1/2d
Night-blintz................................4d
Shantak Shortcake...........................6d
Marzipan Horrors........................2 1/2d
Pecan Shoggoths.............................3d
Cream-puff out of Space.....................2d
Nyarlathotep-upside-down cake...........7 1/2d
Leng-o-nade...............................1/2d

But, enough! My mind is weary from the strain of recall, and I long for the cool mountain breezes and golden spires of Celephais which have eluded me in my slumber for weeks now. Another time, perhaps, I will tell of how the dread baker beckoned me with a bony finger, drawing me within, to partake against my will of those curiously misshapen pastries...


Thanks go to the chattering noders who inspired this writeup: Pseudo_Intellectual, Mitzi...

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