by Stephen Biro
"I swear, Marshall! I've never seen this man before in my fucking life! What you are doing is madness, please, let me free and we can talk this through..."
"There will be no talking this through, Barbara, only eating." Her eyes widen as Marshall places the tape back onto their mouths and exits the room as they scream and cry.
Tiki stays behind, looks sternly at Barbara, then points and speaks in his best broken English he can muster up... "YOU-RAPED-ME!!"
Just then, Arturo, the native laborer who spied on Barbara in the shower, enters the kitchen with his rotten grin. He then stands over her with a poised knife and tears off her tape. Barbara screams the last scream of air in her lungs she would ever hold again.
A grand table stands underneath the night sky adorned with candles and place settings. Around the perimeter are numerous torches. Seated at the table are twenty members from around the globe. Dining among some of the guests are the King of Zimbabwe, the Monarchy of Thailand, Heavyweight Champion George Foreman and silver screen actor, Burt Reynolds.
"Marshall, please do the honor."
Marshall stands. "Hello, dear members. I am quite pleased to provide not just a meal that promises to be delectable, but I have a surprise for all of you." Marshall slips his hand into his blazer lapel and pulls out a check that he holds high into view for the seated members. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hold in my hand, a grant from New York University. This check for two-million dollars, will help fund The Society of Kindred International Nutritionists for the next three years!" The members are overjoyed with praise and celebration. Mr. Reynold's stands up and calls out with his glass in the air, "To the S.K.I.N. Family!" Everyone follows suit and stands with their glasses held high. "To the S.K.I.N. Family!!"
A woman with long, graying braided hair speaks up. "Hello, everyone. Most of you know me, but those of you who do not, my name is Capernica Daniels. I have lived in the Amazon Forest for seventeen years. I've studied this beautiful environment with every part of my being and have barely scratched the surface. I have, however, made a breakthrough." She grasps the clamped dried root on her necklace. "The Pikao Plant Root has an extraction that inhibits skin cells from dying. In other words..."
Capernica holds up her left arm. "This is my arm naturally, as a fifty-two year old woman."
Her arm shows normal signs of sun damage and sagging. She then holds up her right arm and the society gasps. "This arm has undergone trials from the Pikao Plant studies for only three weeks. I think you would all agree there is a noticeable difference. I'd say there's a noticeable twenty year difference. Most importantly, my studies find that this extraction smooths the top layer of the epidermis and locks in the layers underneath, protecting the cells and keeping them youthful, elastic and tender.” Members whisper to one another.
"Most importantly," she takes a bite from the root and chews, "it is non-toxic." Everyone stands and applauds.
Praises are given to her discovery and work.
"My next trial will be the right side of my face." Capernica adds.
"You are so brave, Capernica." "Thank you, Burt." She says shyly.
"Norman and I have spoken in great detail and we believe that we can get this skin cream into a marketing firm by one month's time. So there it is, more good news for the society!" Everyone claps and cheers' each other.
Marshall stands. "Capernica, you have made a revolutionary discovery and we applaud you, but rushing this into marketing is hasty and greedy. I have a check here that will allow you to continue your research. Get to know this plant and all of its capabilities before we push it onto the world to get rich. As co-founder of S.K.I.N., I vote one year's time for research and development before we bother with marketing."
Marshall is met with some whispering and disagreements. Norman stands. "I understand your position, but Capernica and other members of the society have been effortlessly working on this. I vote that it is time to approach marketing firms in one month's time."
Without a hitch, "I second that," was heard. Then, "I third that," and "I fourth that."
The votes were a sixty/forty split in favor of pursuing the marketing aspects of this miracle cream until... "That's that. The society has spoken!" Norman adds.
"I don't believe you people! I am Marshall Sterling! Co-founder of this society. I am your liaison for all grant money! Not to mention I have provided tonight's entrees!"
Marshall pulls the check from his pocket and stares at it.
"I am sorry, dear members, but I will be forced to tear this check up if you do not reconsider your votes. I cannot, in good faith, ruin my reputation with my colleagues at the university over a decision such as this." Marshall takes hold of the check with both hands as if to rip it. "Marshall, no!" The King of Zimbabwe instructs. "I am in favor of waiting and I voted in favor of such. Please do not strong-arm the society this way, Marshall. It is unethical."
Something stirred, however. Certain members changed their minds. Talk and chatter took over the table and made its way down to Norman. He nods and stands to address the situation. "Marshall, we will concede on two conditions. The check is given to the society so that Capernica can continue her studies of the root. The second condition is we will pursue in three months time."
Marshall looks over the faces of the members. He then leans over the table and hands Norman the check. Applause breaks out and celebration ensues!
The native caretakers bring out the first course. It is a large vat of stew that is ladled into the bowls that rest in front of each guest. "Enjoy the stew, everyone," Marshall says. "I had a hand in growing the ingredients myself..."
They each dip their soup spoons into the broth and begin to eat. Those demon children made for an excellent stew and made for quite the hearty appetizer. Tangy, with pulled-meat, the little devils! The vegetables that compliment it are sliced carrots, celery, zucchini and mushrooms in a broth and slow cooked for two hours. Positive feedback was given to this rare treat and Marshall was proud of the children. After two helpings of stew apiece, the bowls are removed and four natives carry out two plank boards that each hold a body wrapped in cooked banana leaves. They place the two bodies in the center of the table. Norman hands Marshall a serrated knife; he then stands to say a few words. "It is my great honor to present the first carving. You know, dear members, I have endured abuse from this woman for more than a decade. In fact, everyone she encountered endured certain levels of abuse. The biggest character flaw of this woman was her mouth, so we will all avoid consuming her poisonous tongue. Her liver was an abyss for her alcoholism, so we will avoid that, as well." Marshall tears the cooked leaves open over her torso, as steam rises from the cooked dish. Barbara is seared, like a properly-cooked filet mignon. The secret lies underneath with its juicy, succulent and tender meat. All traces of Barbara have now left as Marshall makes the first cut from her upper thigh meat. He presents the first piece to the members; he then places the bite into his mouth and chews. The members hang onto his reaction. Exquisite. A wave of pleasantries wash over them as one of the caretakers take over and dishes out Barbara and 'the other man' to each dinner guest.
"Salute!" Norman says and they all begin to eat...
The dining experience is relatively quiet; just as it was five years ago. Only the sounds of forks and knives working together atop the ceramic plates can be heard. Eating a human being is serious business. It is an experience where every sense is dedicated to the act. Sight, smell, taste, sound - even touch; depending upon which part is being eaten, of course. This was not a cheeseburger one would have at a local diner; this was the rarest-of-the-rarest delicacy on the planet being consumed. Marshall slices a portion and slowly chews it. He carries it down with a sip of '64 Red Vintage. The meat is carefully sliced into bite-sized portions and graciously accepted into his mouth.
His wife was so fucking good to eat. This really was her finest moment. Marshall smiles as he thinks to himself that Barbara had never been better than right now. Better than an evening a
t the New York Opera House or any of the finest restaurants the city has to offer. He was quite proud of her, actually. However, as he consumed her, bit-by-bit, memories of yesteryear began to flood his way; largely moments where she humiliated him. Times where she would have had one too many and find enjoyment in embarrassing him at his work gatherings or office parties. Her laughter was nauseating and sickening to his ears. He cuts a portion of meat from her and is reminded of the night he bumped into 'the other man'. He accepts another bite. This time, a swell of nirvana overwhelms him - and not only from the exquisite taste, but from the knowledge of his total domination and obliteration of her. Closing his eyelids from an almost orgasmic experience, he slowly lets the tender fibrous meat melt into his mouth, washing away any ill-will or animosity he ever held for her. He even finds himself laughing at the newfound freedom he is sensing...
Hours had passed before him as he dined on his bitch of a wife. Sitting amongst like-minded friends and laughing underneath the grand canopy of nature and the night sky. Marshall was well-beyond content. He couldn't recall the last time he was more relaxed than this very moment. In fact, he couldn't even feel his own heart beating within his rib-cage. It was a feast he'll never to forget. Such tastes were abound this night.
"Would you top up Marshall's wine, please?" Norman says to one of the caretakers. While his request is being fulfilled, Norman stands up and holds his glass high. "I'd like to make a toast everyone. To Marshall. You really came through for the society and brought some very delicious entrees. The children were wonderful appetizers. Simply scrumptious and just delectable! Your wife was absolutely splendid. Like tender veal, but much tastier and without the guilt. Well done!"
Marshall quips back, "Well done? Don't you mean, medium-rare, Norman?"
The table of guests share a good laugh together. What a lovely evening, Marshall thinks to himself as he finishes his glass of wine. A lovely evening, indeed.
Marshall dreamt that night. It was a colorful and peaceful encounter and he welcomed the visionary experience that lay before him as he floated into it. He found himself standing in a brilliant green field surrounded by a meadow which glistened a million diamonds from the sun above. It was then that Barbara visited him. As she walked through the breezy field toward him, she was holding the hands of Oliver and Madison who were dressed in their Sunday Best. Inside the dream, Barbara apologized for how she treated him and for the deceit that she had built their marriage upon. Marshall accepted her apology. She also forgave him. Forgave him for murdering them. However, she gave a cautionary warning afterward. Since their lives were taken in the name of hatred, that not only are their souls in purgatory, but remnants of their energies stayed within their physical bodies; physical bodies that he had consumed and eaten.
Barbara and the children are now a part of Marshall. She informs him that she will be whispering to his subconscious mind; whispering very dark ideals. She promises a life of confusion and ultimate demise; and vows that it will bring her great pleasure in feeling his very downfall from within. The children also had some things they wanted to share. They warned of the grand fighting that shall endure inside him - as two polar-opposite twin children, now having no place to get away from one another; worse than two siblings sharing a single bedroom. Yes, they promised tricks aplenty. Barbara finishes by giving him a kiss on his cheek and gently whispers into his ear that the only way to rid himself of this lifelong predicament is to take his own life... He pushes her back in denial sweating, shaking, "This isn't real. I must be feeling a sense of residual guilt manifesting itself in my dream." Marshall says.
"Yes, the first of many, stepfather!" Madison coyly promises!
"Just as I had said before, dear, we are inside you and it is our very energies that are whispering to you right now... You killed us, Marshall. Now, we will repay you the same deed tenfold. Not only will you never rid us while blood courses through your veins, but you caused an imbalance in nature by removing us from the physical world - and when it is not nature itself that removes a person, it causes a great ripple effect in the metaphysical oceans of the afterlife. That does not bode well in the beyond. Goodnight, Marshall. We will surely visit you again. This will be our gift to you..." Barbara smiles.
Marshall screams and wakes in a cold sweat. It was just a dream. "Oh, thank God in Heaven." He praises - yet, something is amiss. He finds himself restricted, however. Arms tied, his ankles are bound and his legs and torso are strapped in. He lies horizontal on a cold table; the very table that his wife once rested on before. Adrenaline is heavily secreted as his heart pulls back on a beat, as if pulling on a pinball plunger to send the steel ball soaring on a wild ride. Beat. In an instance, sheer horror settles into his entire core, for death is afoot. Norman walks into view and stands over him - his stout face, upside down.
"Norman! You goddamned sonuvabitch! Untie me at once! What in God's name do you think you are doing?!"
"You asked if living out here has changed me any, Marshall, and it has! Boy, has it changed me..."
Marshall panics.
"The University will know that I delivered the check to you when you deposit it! A full investigation will be held for my disappearance and they will hold you accountable!!" Norman pauses and then says, "You were always a very clever man, Marshall." He then pulls the check out and tears it into pieces. "S.K.I.N. doesn't need your money, Marshall. Burt Reynold's cut us a check for twice the amount." Norman informs.
"I co-founded this society with you, you cannot do this to me! What is the meaning of this?!"
"It's quite simple, really - we all voted on dessert."
Tape is placed over Marshall's mouth, while he flails back and forth trying to break the thick leather straps.
A knife is quickly placed on the side of Marshall's neck-meat and slit to the other side. Blood squirts, but only a bit; then flows like a faucet, collecting in a pool around him. Fast, at first, thanks to his racing heartbeat, but as she slows, so does the flow. Marshall gurgles as the sound of something hollow filling up to its brim can faintly be heard - and pints of blood begin to flow from his nostrils. His eyes circling wildly in his sockets; this burning pain. His consciousness slips in and out, but not before a last mental visit from his hyena-laughing wife and giggling children. Which is the last image he ever sees - and it stays with him forevermore; they stay with him forevermore; somewhere, laughing and bickering... Somewhere.
Abortion Atonement
Bryan Jackson
Tiffany is strapped on an operating table with her legs spread eagle and feet in steel stirrups. The room is barely lit and very humid. Her breathing is labored and becomes even shallower as a tall doctor and his two nurses come into the tiny room. Their faces are in shadow hidden behind dingy face masks.
Without saying a word both nurses move between Tiffany’s legs, reach into her vagina, grab a side, and pull her open. She yelps in pain as the doctor wipes a curette against his scrubs and eases it into her gaping opening. He forcefully scrapes the tool around in circles and from side to side. The slicing pain shoots through Tiffany’s whole body and she screams out, choking on tears and thick phlegm.
The Doctor tries to remove the curette slowly, but it becomes snagged. A quick yank pulls the blood soaked tool free and in its loop hangs a tiny arm that’s been severed at the shoulder. The limb is pulled out and placed on a nearby table. The curette, no longer needed, is tossed across the room into a dark corner. The nurses take turns reaching into the abused vagina grabbing handfuls of meat and placenta to place on the table. Once their satisfied all remains of pregnancy are no longer inside the womb attention is directed toward the pile of wet body parts.
The doctor and nurses frantically sift through the tiny baby’s body parts and put them together like a puzzle in correct anatomical fashion. In a matter of seconds the baby’s dismembered body twitches on the table. Tiffany strains to see her baby, but the tears blur her already dim vision. The baby’s mouth moves somewhat like a fish out of w
ater. The round stomach raises as it takes deep breathes.
Tiffany yells to be let go so she can hold her child, but nobody is listening. Before she can protest any more the nurses and doctor remove their face masks revealing twisted smiles. Their teeth are jagged and tear through their lips as they seem to grow too large for the mouths that hold them. Thick strands of saliva mixed with blood pour over their ravaged lips and onto the table with the still breathing baby. Tiffany fights as hard as she can to get free, but to no avail. The straps are cutting into her wrists, and the more she struggles the deeper the wound and the more blood runs free. The nurses hiss at her and the doctor says his first words since coming into the room.
“Bring us more!” His voice comes out deep and barely legible through his razor teeth.
The trio snaps their focus onto the child who has now begun to cry out. In a flash they grab handfuls of baby and force different limbs into their mouths. Wet sucking noises and gagging is all that can be heard in the room now. Soft, severely underdeveloped bones are crunched into mush in the feeding frenzy. One nurse grabs a mucus covered leg and slurps in down her throat like a shucked oyster. The knee gives a little resistance and she pukes the leg up only to suck it back down like a hungry dog that doesn’t want to give up its vomit.
The doctor grabs the last remaining piece. The baby’s severed head has begun to shriek so loudly that the sound stings Tiffany’s ears. The head is pushed into the doctor’s mouth. The face is shredded on jagged teeth on its way into the hot black hole. Chewing and crunching can barely be heard as the screams intensify.
Tiffany stares at the doctor in horror as he stares back at her grinning and forcing his jaws closed over and over again. He tries to swallow and what doesn’t make it down his throat spills out. The baby’s head has been reduced to a thick, chunky, brown goop that’s filled with small bones and veins. The screaming hasn’t stop and is only getting louder, but she can hear the two nurses breathing heavily in each of her ears. They whisper in tandem, chanting.
