This is from a project I was assembling about a year ago...


Dark Carnival

Let me tell you about this unique taste I’ve acquired. Oh, trust me, it’s quite good. In fact, it’s fantastic. Just thinking about it makes my mouth begin to water with delight and I can almost feel it sliding down my throat in its tasty goodness.

I’m just taking a little nighttime walk, as I always do. Most of the people have left the streets by now for the safety of their homes to escape the inky blackness that is the night. Tonight, I get lucky. I’ve been yearning for the taste for weeks; so much that I’ve begun to refuse anything but this taste. But I’m lucky tonight. It’s like winning a prize at the carnival.

I’m walking down a dimly lit street; the city hasn’t really bothered with street lamps, the fools. I hear the sound of what might be a rodent digging through public trash, and as I come upon the source of the ruckus I see not a rodent but a young, innocent child.

I say sweetly to the young girl, “Hello there, may I ask what you may be looking for in that filth?” She looks up at me, in what I guess to be in surprise and quietly answers me that she’s looking for food. “Food?” I repeat, making sure to keep my pleasantries in check. “My dear child, no food you find in there will be able to satisfy your needs. Please, allow me to give you some, but it’s at my home. See, I wasn’t all that hungry today, as I was ill not long ago – Oh! I assure you, I’m well now,” I tell her, for I sense the uneasy feeling of my mentioning of an imaginary illness. “I have much left over from dinner, if you’d like to have some.”

That sweet little girl doesn’t stop to think and readily agrees to come back to my residence for the food. She seems so good, it’s a shame really that she should have fallen to be the prize of my little carnival game. But I have to have it. I crave the taste so much.

She wipes her hands on her soiled dress - I see that it is ripping at the seams she’s worn it so much - and we begin our little walk back. Poor girl, so unsuspecting and so quick to trust - is this guilt I am feeling? I shrug it off and engage her in conversation, feeling quite giddy now.

We arrive at my home and I open the door and gesture her in. I lead her to my living room and seat her on the sofa. I ask her to wait patiently there while I fix her a sandwich. She nods her head eagerly and I leave her there to look around in wonder at my many possessions.

I head back to the kitchen and pull out a loaf of bread. I cut two slices and place them on a plate and take two slices of meat and slap them on top of the bread. I slice a little cheese and place it on the meat and then I take out my special drug and I crush it over the cheese before it is covered by some lettuce and the second slice of bread. I divide the sandwich in half before pouring a glass of milk and crushing the drug and mixing it in that - just in case.

I return to the living room and she’s still there on the sofa where I left her. Not a thing out of place, such a good girl, it really is a shame. I hand her the glass and plate and she eagerly begins to eat it. It’s not long before she’s devoured the sandwich and the glass sits on the table next to her, empty.

I take the glass and plate from her and leave the room. I take my time as I go back into the kitchen to take care of the two dishes. I don’t return to the little child for a long while, and just as I anticipated, she’s still there. This time though, she’s stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep.

I excitedly strip myself of my clothes and place them neatly in a pile before taking the girl to the basement. There I take her dirty clothes off and toss them aside and I get to work and start slicing away at her skin with a knife.

I ate wonderfully for nine days. She was so very good and sweet, so sweet that I crave a second helping of the human flesh.

Once again I take a little nighttime walk, and once again, I find a wonderful carnival prize.