by Sam West
Craig yelped in disgust when she licked it.
“Get off me!” he said in a high pitched voice he barely recognised as his own.
Another pale skinned child had joined them. This one was a lot shorter and younger. Even with Craig sitting, the child barely came up to his chest. It looked up at him with wide, red eyes.
Craig screamed in terror when it opened its mouth, revealing razor sharp teeth. He tried to shuffle his chair backwards by twisting his body and digging his heels into the ground.
The majority of the children were clustered around Tim. Many hands had turned him onto his side and Craig saw his back for the first time. It was a bloody mess. He realised in horror that chunks of his spine weren’t just severed, but missing.
A couple of the younger children had crawled onto the table. One held his foot like a dog with a bone between its paws. It took a bite out of the already mangled toes.
To his utter dismay, he realised Tim was laughing.
“I can’t feel you,” he said in a childish voice between giggles.
In that second, Craig envied him.
Many more mouths descended upon his friend. Craig heard his flesh tearing and the snap of bones, all to the backdrop of Beth’s bloodcurdling screams.
“No,” he said, finally throwing up the contents of his stomach.
The shapely young woman licking his stump proceeded to suck up the vomit from his lap. Her long, pink tongue swirled lasciviously over his thighs, edging closer towards his cock.
“No,” he said once more, chucking himself backwards.
His chair toppled over and he landed with a sickening crack on the wooden floor, the back of his head bouncing on the ground. He saw stars and his ears rung, drowning out all those horrible, horrible sounds.
Searing pain flooded his shin. Through his wildly swimming vision he saw that the short kid had taken a chunk out of his calf. It kept its face buried in the fresh wound, sucking and slurping. The girl buried her face in his crotch and bit off his cock. The pain sent him over the edge into a black hole where nothing existed apart from an agonising downward spiral into death.
The room was getting dark now, of which he was grateful. His bloody cock hung out of the girl’s mouth which she chewed like a sausage, but then the view was obscured by the waterfall of blood that spurted from the place his cock had been just seconds before.
A third, ghostly white figure joined in the fun. The unspeakable pain at his crotch spread like fire to his stomach, and he felt something being tugged out of him. Through his rapidly dimming vision he glimpsed his own unravelling entrails.
Craig’s eyes fluttered back in his head and he felt his bowels let go. He died in the stench of his own shit as the children gorged on his flesh.
NINE MONTHS LATER.
Janet and Ben were exhausted by the time they reached The Dirty Swallow. It had been a long hike.
“I hope they’re still doing lunch, I’m starving,” Janet said to her fiancé as they reached the pub door.
“I’m sure they will. That Bish at the B and B said they serve lunch all day.”
Janet threw her beloved fiancé a smile. He held the door open for her to enter first, but something made her hesitate, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The old guy in the B and B had said Hanow was a village, but how could that be with just three cottages and a pub?
She shrugged off the bad feeling and entered the dark interior.
“Oh, hello,” said a little old lady sitting at the bar.
She looked ancient, her dyed blonde hair pulled back in a bun. She cradled a baby in her arms.
“Hello,” Janet said, going up to her. “What a beautiful baby. Is this your grandchild?”
A look passed over the old woman’s face, but just as quick it was gone again. Like she was angry at her for asking such a thing. But then the bright, albeit toothless smile was back in place.
“Yes, this is my grandchild. Isn’t he a beauty?”
“He sure is,” Janet said honestly, admiring the healthy, perfectly formed child. “His parents must be real lookers.”
“You’re right dear, they surely are.”
“Are you still doing food?” Ben asked, joining Janet and smiling down at the bonny baby. “The man at the B and B where we’re staying says you do the best pub lunch in all of Cornwall.”
The old lady chuckled.
“Yes, my ‘andsome, we surely do. We ain’t got a wide choice though, we just do one special meal a day.”
“And what is it today?” he asked.
Pork casserole. Trust me, it’s to die for.”
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION BY SAM WEST.
CHAPTER ONE.
CHAPTER TWO.
CHAPTER THREE.
CHAPTER FOUR.
CHAPTER FIVE.
CHAPTER SIX.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
NINE MONTHS LATER.
