Flash Fiction: Fresh Meat

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Gorgeous brown skin, thick eyebrows and equally thick eyelashes, and eyes that shone like stars. His shoulders were broad enough to hold a football field, leading down to a trim waist that would make any woman within a hundred miles seethe with jealousy. When he smiled, the dimple on his left cheek winked at me as if it was sharing a secret. 

I almost wished I didn’t have to kill him.

But as I learned a long time ago, handsome men tasted scrumptious, and after denying myself for two months, I was practically starving for human flesh.

I started walking towards him, my long legs on display beneath my flared mini-skirt, giving me an elegance further accentuated by the towering heels on my feet. 

Three streets away, the annual convention of anthropophagy was still underway—secretly of course—where my fellow connoisseurs were still delivering rapturous praise over the succulence of the human flesh, but I had left early, all the detailed discussions leaving me with a hunger I simply had to quench.

His face brightened at my approach, taking on a lascivious expression, and I laughed quietly to myself. God, they were all so easy. 

Why did they always stop to speak with me? Or never suspect I was anything other than what I appeared to be? Was it the legs?  Hadn’t they ever heard of the saying, “Not all that glitters is gold?”

None of that was my problem though. 

“Want to get out of here?” I asked when I finally reached him, putting one hand on my hip and giving him a lazy smile.

He nodded eagerly, looking like a schoolboy with a crush, and I had to stifle a giggle. We walked back across the street to my old Volvo, parked innocently in front of a hardware store. 

“I’m Munir,” he said, rushing to open my door for me and almost dropping his laptop bag. I didn’t deign him with a reply, grabbing him by the arm instead and pulling him after me.

I could barely contain my excitement. Tonight, I would be enjoying my favourite dish. I never needed to cook my dinner, but a whole human was still too much for me, so I liked to keep the extra meat in the deep freezer in my basement, making it last several days. Sometimes even weeks. 

I spent the entire ride thinking of how I was going to end his life. Perhaps I would strangle him? No, his broad shoulders spoke of a great strength, a hammer to the head would do better.

We reached my house in record time. There, I took him by the hand again and led him further in, his heavy footsteps falling behind me. As I unlocked the thick wooden door, a sharp prick stung the side of my neck. I immediately clapped my hand to it, thinking it was a bug, but my fingers came away covered with blood. I tried to turn my head to face my companion, but sank to my knees instead, woozy and unsteady, my vision becoming blurry. 

My hands reached out desperately for something to hold onto, and met the firm chest of my beautiful stranger. He caught my hands in his, and helped me lie flat on the floor of my own living room.

“I saw you at the convention, you know,” he said conversationally. “To think all this could have been prevented if you’d seen me there too.”

Gone was the man with the puppy dog behaviour I’d manipulated so easily. In his place was a cold and calculated person.

I tried to respond, but whatever drug he’d injected into me had done its job. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak.

He knelt next to my prone form, smoothing my hair back from my face. Reaching across me to the TV console, he turned on the radio as loud as it would go, pulled out an extremely sharp looking knife from his laptop case, and humming along to the jaunty tune that filled the air, started sawing me into pieces.

READ MORE ENTRIES FOR THE FLASH FICTION HERE

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