It was like any other night, he sat down with a plate full of food on his lap. It was a ceremony, a ritual of love.  With every bite he knew his arteries thickened, with every relentless bite he knew…it was coming to an end. Life and everything in it faced an untimely demise, this was certain. Barry knew his death was imminent and he had made peace with it.


with every bite he could taste happiness that lasted only seconds. Barry’s relationship with food was almost sexual, the first bite ignited a climax of emotions most people wouldn’t understand; but that doesn’t matter. As far as he is concerned no other person could ever feel like he does whilst eating.


The television was on but he wasn’t watching it, he was concentrating on his beloved fillet of red meat, seasoned with parmesan. He sat in his usual shit stained recliner chair with a fold out table in front of him, it was dressed with a floral table cloth. Given the circumstances he seemed fit that all rituals should be performed with the best silver cutlery. He gently held the glistening knife in his hand, the feeling of cold polished metal pressed against his flesh made him sweat. He slowly and surgically began cutting through the rump red meat, medium rare…just enough blood; exactly how he liked it.


In a bid to savour this moment he would take his time in-between each piece, the sweat on his brow ran down to his upper lip lining it with a wet glossy film of salt, It enhanced the flavour; or so he thought. The very thought of this meal aroused him, he began to sweat profusely, his heart began to race intermittent palpitations began to spread through his chest. His breaths became deep haunting gasps was it pain or was it pleasure? The humming of his pulse surging through his veins penetrated the inner crevices of his ears, they began to bleed.


That’s how I found him, face down on a plate of his own mother’s flesh. She was butchered beyond belief in her bed. We think he used her dressing gown cord to strangle her. He ripped her flesh open with his bare hands. We found a stock pan filled with her organs placed on the cooker; enough meat to feed him for a week.



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