That is that {The beggining of a story}

[peanutpie]

Very, Very, rough draft of the beggining of my story about class ranks of canniblism. I found muse songs for this piece (Notoriously Ocean breathes Salty by Modest Mouse)

Slaughter

Standing in the circle, we all have death. A dripping candle, perhaps? No, no, no. Candles are not here, wax is not here. Nothing is here but the small coaxing of people. They said we’d be safe. They said… The words stop suddenly. No, not words, thoughts. The thoughts stop suddenly as the executioner steps out of the small dark antichamber.

Eyes flicker as she silver knife reflects its sinister gleam. Hand grasping the black handle of the knife, you look up to see the faces of the other people to be killed. A few angry savages of people stay in the back cell, screaming for the meat they paid so much for.

A woman with black hair grasps wildly out of the cell, her loud screams being heard inside the entire killing room. “Meat! Meat!” Her screams break down the entire audience, including a little girl about the age of four. Her pitiful wailing erupts the whole entire screaming of the wild woman.

Of course, the executioner steps forward to a man, one with red hair and hollow looking black eyes. Of course, all of them have the hollow black irises that mark them as meat.

The devilish grin of the executioner grabs the man by the neck and tosses him to the wall, making the man gasp in agony. His head bled out of its ears, making him curl into a corner.

The executioner steps happily towards the man who was close to dead and slit, slowly, the back of the person, then, with a slight flourish, making the head fall off. The people watching from the outside cell screamed with cheer. They started calling off prices.

Five Lioi’s. Fourteen Lioi’s. Twenty seven, fourty two. The price was finally set on as a woman with green eyes and no hair stepped into the chamber, swooped up the body in a small, black bag and skipped out, eating the tender back meat that the executioner had slaughtered earlier.

Oh, God.










{{{That is that, this is this.}}}

745FG sat the course of the day in the room. Her eyes adverted across to the small mirror of the opposite wall, then she regained her own strength to get up and tap on the wall again. One, two, three times. She sat down. Was her friend on the other side, there? Was the friend slaughtered? She didn’t exactly think through this, exactly. She more wondered where the person was, whatever their name was.

With wondering eyes, she sat back down onto her bed, sleeping. This was her day, knocking on the wall, then continuing to sleep for the remaining of the day. She didn’t speak, she didn’t analytically process many things. The only things she knew was the simple room she was in.

A sunny color on the walls, a warm spot in the corner and something reflective. Something that made noise when you tapped it.

Other than that, the girl knew nothing about life. She knew herself, herself only. The day was something of a laziness. It was prepared in a dicey way.

She was a producer, little known to her. Producers, were in fact, people who were slaughtered for the consumers, the rich peoples, needs. She was locked in here until she turned seventeen. Then, she was sent to the breeding farm for five years.

Then, she died. Sent to slaughter. Nothing more, nothing less. Her life was meant for breeding purposes and nothing more, than meat.

Meat. Oh, the precious source since people became unable to eat animal meat. So, they ate other human beings. The craving for this… meat became so severe, the government set up a system.

Anyone in poverty was taken away, and put into breeding camps. Then, children were brought into the rooms, until they turned seventeen. Brought to the breeding camps once again.

Of course, some people were thrown into the slaughterhouse, along the way. About a quarter of the population.

There were cameras in the room, so people could take their pick on who they ate. Usually the people of most importance, such as government officials. The president usually ordered one human a month to feast on, so obviously it was an accepted choice in diet.

So, just to sum it up. That is that.



Luio’s Mother was ridiculously old fashioned. The first lady was oddly dressed in a nineteen fifties getup, saddle shoes and a fluffy petticoat skirt with a yellow top piece. His father sat at the table, picking his teeth with a piece of tooth that had been ground down to a perfect point, one of his Fathers prized possessions.

His sister was picking through her food, her gaze looking around as she finally saw the meat was set on the table.

By their Mother, on a silver platter. She unearthed the head of human, one of Luio’s favorite ways served. This one was a fairly pretty girl, probably seven years old. Black hair, pale skin and shiny red lips. His Mother must of painted the lips red with the food dye again. He disliked the taste of it when he ate the lips.

Yet, there was the brain to eat today. Leftover brain was always the best, especially when you sprinkled it with rice and a bit of black pepper. He found it quite a meal, when they had the head.

With a pleasant smile, he picked up the silver plated fork that his Father had insisted on buying instead of making their own thighbone ones. And he waited for his Mother to carefully slice a piece of the meat onto his plate.

His Father started at the forehead. Slowly slicing down, her cut the skin and the meat at the same time, slowly plopping the meat onto the plate and handing it to his son. His seven year old son was a cannibal.

It was salted meat, so he slipped it into his mouth and nibbled on its tenderness. “Thank you Mother.” He said with a smile as he finally placed the knife and fork onto the plate and got up, skipping around.

The brain, was probably being saved for a meal of white rice stew. Mmm Mmm Good.

This is This.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/center]