Mystery Meat

Maci Vanpool , 2nd Place Horror Writing Contest

I covered my mouth and screwed my eyes shut; the smell of the rotting corpse left outside was impossible to ignore. The man was unfamiliar; the corpse had chunks bitten out of him. I couldn’t recognize him; his face was horribly disfigured. This hadn’t been the first time this happened, but it was the first time it was a human. I tried to call the police, but anytime they’d arrive, only a puddle of blood would be left, only to be placed back later when they were gone. Eventually, they just stopped listening.
I feel the stares; I know it, whatever it is, is looking at me, not taking its eyes off me. The ball in the back of my throat is burning, and I let out a choked-out sob, tears well in my eyes. I have no one to call, and I’m scared it’ll go for them. The rancid smell again. I feel myself gag and start to heave – The scent is too strong to ignore. Black spots cloud my vision; the last thing I remember is my throat burning as vomit forces itself out of my mouth and nostrils.
I wish I hadn’t woken up; why couldn’t I have died? I should’ve killed myself when I had the chance, and now I don’t know what will happen. My fate is in its hands, its horrid, vile hands.
I’m in a basement; it’s too dark to make up much else. The after-taste of vomit does nothing but make even more rise up. I gag as more vomit escapes me, landing on my clothes. I spit out the remaining chunky liquid from my mouth. It drips down my chin. As I go to try to wipe it off, I come to two horrifying conclusions;
I’m strapped down. My arms are tied down to the arms of a chair, ankles strapped numbingly to the legs of the chair. I struggle, but it’s no use; my body feels static, I can hardly think.
The second conclusion is more horrifying than the last; I’m being watched. I can feel it raking its eyes down myself. I only now truly know that I’m hopeless. My heart beats faster, my lips wobble, and for a split second, I think of screaming, but it’d be useless.
A hand travels its way into the light, an ugly, ugly hand. It’s shaking excessively as it reaches closer and closer towards my face. With its grossly long nails, the hand moves fallen strands away from the front of my face. I, against my will, let out a sharp gasp when contact is made. The strange hand flinches back the same and retreats into the darkness. It doesn’t take long; the monster reaches in, fork in hand, and I’m horrified to know what the meat is while it’s shoved in my mouth. My nose is pinched, and my mouth is covered. I hold it in stubbornness but succumb to a very simple fact. The meat tastes good. I’m disgusted.