Consumed by Love - A Short Story Read Free Page A

a scream of his
own, a banshee cry that ricocheted through the house, he sunk his teeth into
the meat of her shoulder.
    ***
    Deprivation is a skill monks and nuns, the aesthetics of
ancient mystic religions, have all known. Deprivation of that which you crave
makes you pure. Refusing to give in to an evil need is a pious act. However,
evil is like water: it seeps into the cracks until it overflows from within.
    The flavor fills his
mouth, softly bitter juices spreading out from the taste buds. He groans as the
bitterness causes his mouth to water, and at the familiar feeling of the sides
of his tongue tingling with delight. Denying his need for this longing is
dangerous, as his body begins to change in response to the lack of his
essential nourishment. He waits too long every time, hating himself for what he
is and what he has allowed to happen, but in this moment, all his guilt is
abandoned. He feels only joy throughout body and soul as he consumes the tender
meat.
    Today’s sacrifice
overwhelms him. He moans with joy as the combination of muscle and fat
commingle in each bite. Times like this, he understands the sensual nature of
his desire; the flavor intoxicates him, and his humanity slips further away with
each small bite. This is not the chewy, rubber-like cartilage of an ear, or the
bony, almost-meatless fare of a finger or toe. No, this is the flesh of the
gods, the essence of life.
    The rice on his plate
absorbs the sweet juice and, as he finishes the meat, he makes sure to eat
every grain, soaking up every last drop of the aphrodisiac juice. Still, the scent fills his nose; it is
pungent in the air. Instincts rule as his hunger reminds him of this inescapable
need. The erotic connection between food and lust intermingle and confuse as he
lifts his eyes.
    ***
    Bree looked at herself
in the mirror for the last time. They were leaving the home they’d built
without a word to friends, neighbors or family. She pulled her hair over her
shoulder, covering the tender crescent of flesh on the side of her head where
her ear had once been.
    Soon, it would be
impossible to hide these small absences. Soon, he would need much more than a
simple ear.
    In the living room, Hugo sat alone
with an old box of matches and a gasoline can. His eyes leveled on the two
still figures before him: a man and a woman, each with hunks of flesh missing
from their bodies. He recited a prayer he remembered from his youth, meant to
be said at meals to recognize the sacrifice of the animals who’d died so that
they might eat: Oliwni Gia Mziwi Mili.
    He stood uneasily, not
yet adjusted to his new height, as Bree entered the dark room. His eyes had
adjusted to the darkness so completely that he saw her angelic face, the
sweetness of her lips, and the devotion in her gaze.
    “Nizwia.” He found
himself reverting to his native tongue more and more often these days.
    He held out his hand to
her and continued, “N’nossokawikw.”
    Her smile was radiant.
She didn’t understand the words he spoke, but she recognized the tones of love.
All her concern and doubt evaporated when his eyes met hers, and his hand
waited patiently. His love never wavered; they could overcome anything
together.
    When
she walked to his side, he leaned down and kissed her, his lips soft and full, his
recent weakness forgotten. Now that he’d fed, it should hold him for quite some
time, perhaps long enough for them to start over and make a new life together.
His skin had lost some of its pigment, but tonight he looked flushed and
healthy.
    They would go somewhere
they couldn’t be found, where no one would question the changes in him or the
slight limp in her walk.
    They would leave
everything behind, sacrificing life and normalcy for love.
    Together, they lit the
fire that would consume their lives. These bodies would replace them in death, their
sacrifice necessary. They would just disappear, a simple and easy exit.
    Hugo moved like a ghost,
drifting though the house with an