They open the refrigerator door with laughter. I can feel it rumble through the metal. It's a sound, which makes me colder than the artificial freeze inside. They have been planning it for days. Talked how they would eat me up right from the moment they saw me. Now, it seems, the time has come and there is nothing I can do about it.
They pull the metal plate I lay on and lead me through the kitchen. It is a slow procession as if I am a Sunday ritual. Each step feels slower, more intense. Perhaps time had decided to aid them, bending and dragging. The plate shakes. Was I that heavy? Were they drunk or maybe this involuntary body language expresses doubt regarding their actions? Maybe they know this is monstrous. Either way, I pray they drop me. Let me tumble over, find the right angle and skip this. It would have been merciful. But it's not how it continues.
"Mhm, that will taste so good with the champagne, momma." One of them moos and the sound is unholy.
It prods me, bruising my flesh with its rough fingertips. The sensation reminds me of slime through the plastic folio, they have wrapped me in. I shudder at the pain, but it's the contact with them I abhor.
It's pointless to resist. I have tried. I have failed. I am immobile. I was then. I am now. It's the cold. It's the shock. I can barely breathe through the folio and I am already there, laid down on the table with one final shake of the plate.
"My, my, Loraine. You have outdone yourself, sweetheart. Where did you spot this pretty little thing?" One of them calls. Another giggles in return, but silence settles soon and no one talks again.
It is as if I am not there, not hearing, not feeling, not alive. Without them caring or even acknowledging me apart from how good I will taste. It is this dead-on certainty on their course of action, which denies me hope.
The folio is stripped from me. It hurts to breathe again after sweating in the plastic. It has begun. I am nude. I see their knife, their saliva. I wish I can move, but my fear has me resigned from an atempt. So, I watch the knife grow and grow in size as they steady it for the perfect cut. I can't breathe anymore. I can't even faint.
The blade pierces me. It sinks in with ease and drags itself along my edges, until I am cut in fine pieces.
"Oh, God," Mister Roth exclaims as he stuffs his mouth full. "best chocolate cake, ever."
They pull the metal plate I lay on and lead me through the kitchen. It is a slow procession as if I am a Sunday ritual. Each step feels slower, more intense. Perhaps time had decided to aid them, bending and dragging. The plate shakes. Was I that heavy? Were they drunk or maybe this involuntary body language expresses doubt regarding their actions? Maybe they know this is monstrous. Either way, I pray they drop me. Let me tumble over, find the right angle and skip this. It would have been merciful. But it's not how it continues.
"Mhm, that will taste so good with the champagne, momma." One of them moos and the sound is unholy.
It prods me, bruising my flesh with its rough fingertips. The sensation reminds me of slime through the plastic folio, they have wrapped me in. I shudder at the pain, but it's the contact with them I abhor.
It's pointless to resist. I have tried. I have failed. I am immobile. I was then. I am now. It's the cold. It's the shock. I can barely breathe through the folio and I am already there, laid down on the table with one final shake of the plate.
"My, my, Loraine. You have outdone yourself, sweetheart. Where did you spot this pretty little thing?" One of them calls. Another giggles in return, but silence settles soon and no one talks again.
It is as if I am not there, not hearing, not feeling, not alive. Without them caring or even acknowledging me apart from how good I will taste. It is this dead-on certainty on their course of action, which denies me hope.
The folio is stripped from me. It hurts to breathe again after sweating in the plastic. It has begun. I am nude. I see their knife, their saliva. I wish I can move, but my fear has me resigned from an atempt. So, I watch the knife grow and grow in size as they steady it for the perfect cut. I can't breathe anymore. I can't even faint.
The blade pierces me. It sinks in with ease and drags itself along my edges, until I am cut in fine pieces.
"Oh, God," Mister Roth exclaims as he stuffs his mouth full. "best chocolate cake, ever."
---
Yes, these are the Secret Last Thoughts of a Chocolate Cake, BUT I could not include that last bit in the title, because it would totally ruin the surprise. PLUS, I am sure that for some demented minds reading about cannibalism and then realizing that they have been reading about a cake is hilarious. NOW, I have to thank Amanda Rutter, because the idea came after discussing cakes and their inner emotional state. The natural question => What does a cake think, when it knows it will be eaten? <= popped in and had to be answered.
Also, this is an entry for Tessa's Author Aerobics. The element we are working on is emotion and I bet you all know how this cake feels. However, I did not use the prompt, which was flight. And although flying cakes are fun, it made no sense. In retrospect, maybe I should have written this as the Secret Last Thoughts of a Banana Cream Pie from a Three Stooges movie...
8 comments:
I was completely horrified as I was reading this, with flashes of Silence of the Lambs running through my mind.
I was just about to throw up when I got to the end. Hilarious, Harry. Well done. You strung me right along.
Excellent. I am certainly feeling devilish about this one. :D So much fun to be done with this.
I'll be honest... I was expecting a Thanksgiving Turkey...
So... it still came us some surprise to learn it was Cake and not turkey.
Cake is better. Because I am a cake cannibal! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!
You are not the only one. There was another person to comment on the same thing... :D
Wow, it was making me hungry. I envisoned a suckling pig, though.
Ohh, I don't know if I can ever eat chocolate cake again. Great story!
@ Charles: Hah, suckling pig. That would have been really funny. :D
@ Melissa: I am pretty sure that you will eat chocolate cake again. It is irresistible.
Thanks for the comments!
Nice tease. The mystery of it pulled me through the piece. Fortunately, I was expecting the object to be inanimate so enjoyed the mystery. I guessed wrong thinking it was ahi tuna for sushi. Although, the champagne should have told me my guess was wrong.
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