Post by Rated R on Oct 27, 2013 15:18:21 GMT -5
“The spectre of death follows us everywhere, it lingers over our shoulder every second of every day and we act so oblivious to it because we do not want to admit it. Be it a shadow or the Reaper itself whichever version of it you believe in there is no denying that death is the strongest force known to modern man because it cannot be halted. And yet despite that inevitability we still choose to be afraid. I believe it was Mark Twain who said”the fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time”. And that is the only reason a person fears death, because they have never lived.”
”This is quite morbid conversation for dinner, don’t you think Hannibal?”
”Why of course, my apologies my dear Cecilia. I hope I have not ruined your appetites with my melancholic lamentations.”
”Of course not Hannibal, not with such an exquisite meal prepared for us. I’m just surprised that you would spoil it with talk of death.”
”Only thing that surprises me is that you didn’t end your story with ‘and you only haven’t lived until you’ve tried my steak.”
He snorts when he laughs, at his own joke no less, how unsavoury. I have never been particularly fond of James; he’s an uncivilized little man with no appreciation for the high society that he has found himself surrounded by. How he found himself married to a woman of Cecilia’s class and beauty will never cease to amaze me.
”This house is awesome.”
Nor will how Cecilia managed to birth such a simple daughter with her first husband. Young Alison, beautiful for a seventeen year old, supple, flawless skin, delectable flesh, a feast for the eyes just like her mother but also a horrendous personification of everything that is wrong with young society. Even with all of their technology there is no appreciation for the arts, for Mozart or Vivaldi. How very deplorable.
”Sit down and enjoy the meal that Hannibal so kindly prepared for us.”
Cecilia has been a close acquaintance for many years. She is a woman of great passion for the orchestra and whose exquisite beauty denies her forty years of age. I have long since admired how she holds herself despite the… adversities that come with raising such a child and being married to such a lowly, primitive man. But alas no life is perfect, even I have to cope with the changing world around me. No, there is no perfection, not in life, not in death. There is only the thriving for it that we can hold any credence in.
”What even is this stuff?”
”It is Chicken liver and fava bean salad, a personal favourite of mine.”
”Liver? We’re eating liver? God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
She rushes from the table with the haste of a court jester trying to appease a king and looks just as foolish in doing so. How does one go through life, particularly one raised in such a high social circle, without tasting the delicacies that the world provides. Yes maybe I was, ahem, flexible when I called it chicken but there are more nutrients in this single meal than this girl will ever eat again. From one’s fall comes another’s nourishment, and the nourished is always the happiest of any circle.
”Your daughter’s just like you Cece, always running away when she taste something she doesn’t like.”
How disgusting, he does not even deserve the meal placed before him or the woman he sleeps beside every night. It is questionable whether he deserves life…
”I should go and check on her, she has a sensitive pallet.”
”I’ll go, I’d hate for you to lose your appetite over this, after all you’re enjoying the liver so much.”
Even a lady of such class as Cecilia cannot hide a scowl when faced with such a pathetic attempt at being snide. I hold no respect for a man in such little control of his life that he must try to bring a woman down to feel strong. And for those I hold no respect for, I see only meat.
”I’m so sorry Hannibal; he can be a bit abrasive sometimes.”
”Do not worry my dear, I take no offence.”
We sit and we talk about matters that would seem trivial to the uneducated. About the arts, about politics and the state of modern civilization. It is a delight when I find someone capable of maintaining such a conversation, they are becoming rarer with every day that passes. As she takes another bite of the finest meat I could on short notice provide, a bellhop with a tenacity that rivalled even my finest hunts, I watch as the juices trickle down her throat. Animalistic lust lies in us all, there is no shame in that, but those with sophistication must subdue that when needed. Time passes and inevitably talk turns to the undesirable additions to our little dinner party.
”They have been gone an awfully long time Hannibal, do you think Alison is okay?”
”I am sure she is fine Cecilia, her pallet just needs some refining, that is all.”
”I should go and check on her though, just to be sure.”
”Please, finish your meal, allow me.”
”Are you sure?”
”Of course, it is my house after all. I would be an unworthy host if I did not provide the best possible service.”
And the one thing I pride myself on being, after a man of class and a cook of great style, is a fine host.
< *** >
It isn’t long before I hear their hushed tones, whispering words they wish not to be heard. No, not words, moans. I follow the sounds, down the corridor towards the master bedroom. It’s evident now what I am about to bare witness too, what carnal miscreants I am about to stumble upon. I am sickened to humour such thoughts but little would surprise me with these two sub-humans.
I push open the door…
”Oh god!”
I know what I’m going to see but that doesn’t take away any of my disgust. His lips touching hers, his hands down… god, stepfather and stepdaughter in such a state, how deplorably expectant. They separate quickly, as if that takes away their guilt and their shame. But there is no shame, is there? Not in her lost generation, not in a generation of people who reject that which makes our world such a glorious place to live. And he, he is just a foolish man with no respect for the life that he is so blessed to live.
”It’s not what it looks like, we were just-“
”Just what James? You were just betraying your wife with her own daughter? Betraying the trust and respect that you as her stepfather holds? You disgrace yourself James, attempting to justify your actions as if there was any justification other than the fact that you’re a shallow, pathetic rat of a human being.”
”Now just you wait-“
”Wait? For what James? For you to violate this young girl further? How does it feel to know you’re a deplorable, disgusting little man James? How does it feel to know that you are nothing more than a bottom feeder? I wonder how Cecilia will react to such a betrayal.”
I see the anger bubbling up in his face, exactly how I want it. The girl cowers in fear behind him, she deserves nothing better than he does, she is aware in her age, enough to have made this choice. They will receive their just deserts.
”You’re not going to tell her anything.”
”No, I suppose not.”
He does not expect the speed with which I move, nor the method of attack I decide upon. A toothbrush lies in a cup by the sink, I snap it in two and jam the jagged edges into his jugular, piercing his carotid artery. He’ll bleed out in mere minutes, if that. I simply watch as he slopes to the floor, clawing at my trouser legs. His blood will be a pain to wash out, but that is the price I must pay for fine dining.
”Please, please don’t hurt me, I won’t say anything, I won’t I swear.”
”If I believed you then maybe I would consider it, but you have proven yourself untrustworthy and you have neither the times nor means to demonstrate that I am wrong in my assumption. But don’t worry child, it will be quick…”
I reach out, my hands wrapping around her throat, her tears trickling onto my fingers as they grasp and squeeze tightly, crushing her esophagus. I feel the life slowly drain from her body and Death slowly seep in. Yes, Death is always lingering just over our shoulders but he is never there for me. Death is but the equipment I must use to cook the best meat, to savour the taste that it provides. Death is but a tool.
< *** >
I wipe the blood from my hands and return back to the dining room; Cecilia has long since finished her meal and waits patiently for our return.
”Where are they, is Alison okay? Hannibal, is something wrong?”
I regret what must happen next, but there is no denying that upon the inside Cecilia must be as delectable as she is on the out.
”Oh no,” I say, picking up the serving knife from the dining room table as I walk towards her. ”Everything is just fine.”
Even the sophisticated must gorge themselves sometimes.
