Bed and Break-FEAST

Dmitry was looking for an adventure, searching for a sort of relief from his humdrum life.

“Work. Work. Work. Life is meaningless without your hard work.” His father, Isaac, would say to him with an exhausted tone and tired red eyes. Those words were meaningless to Dmitry, considering he watched his father work himself into cardiac arrest causing him to collapse into his own grave.

Isaac died 2 days before retirement. All his work for nothing.

So, Dmitry left his father’s law firm in search of his own meaning of life. Something that would give him a new perspective on what life truly means. He hastily packed a duffle bag with only the essentials and took off on the open road. No map, no direction.

This course of action led Dmitry to becoming lost; not spiritually lost, although he was that as well, but he was lost on an abandoned backwoods road that seemed to end nowhere, due to his own negligence.

As the car propelled slowly down the long winding road, he could not help but to be mesmerized by the landscape. On each side of him stood a forest of southern live oak trees. Their crooked branches, like hands, reached out as if they were calling him into the swamp. Enchanted by the leaves that were dancing as the wind sang through them. He felt compelled to pull the car over to feel the moment. The car, abandoned much like the road itself, as Dmitry stood on the outer edge of the forest, fully immersed in this new experience that gave him a sense of euphoria. As his eyes greeted the trees, noting each of their unique differences, he noticed a large dark figure through the far-left edge of the tree line. Stepping a few feet to his left, he could see that it was a building just up the road with a glowing neon vacancy sign. He decided that this was the trees divine suggestion that he needed to go and investigate, and so he did.

Dmitry piloted his car towards what he thought was now his destiny, the house materializing into what looked to be a well-kept, old Bed and Breakfast.

“Perfect timing.” He thought.

It was later in the evening, and Dmitry was exhausted from the mental and physical stress that he was putting on himself by driving 6 hours straight to ignore all the emotions that were bottling up inside of him. Compartmentalizing his thoughts and feelings were the best and worst thing that his father had taught him. It worked well when it came to being a defense attorney, “You must put your own feelings aside to focus on winning the case.” His father once told him. However, outside of work, it ruined Dmitry’s relationship with himself and others around him. Of course, he did not know how badly this affected him until it was too late.

After parking his car in the gravel driveway, he could not help but to marvel at the old house. He grabbed his duffle bag from the car and stopped for another bewitching moment, but this time to take in the architecture of the house. A large, black, gothic style Victorian home with pointed arches, recessed balconies and brilliantly articulated stained-glass windows with vibrant reds, yellows, and purples. Dmitry had never thought that a building could be so magnificent.

He began making his way up the wooden steps when it hit him that he had only ever stayed in 5-star hotels before; door attendants, well-known executive chefs, the whole nine yards. This, however, was an entirely new experience for him. He stopped at the door, unsure if he should knock or walk right in. Another thing Dmitry’s father had taught him was to act with confidence, so he decided to walk in with the attitude of a man who knew what he was doing,

The confidence drained from his body as he walked through the colorful, vintage-inspired B&B and into what looked to be a soiree, of sorts. Three men and a woman, giggling and chatting while an old record player spun classical music composed by Sergei Prokofiev. Of course, he only recognized this because of his Russian mother’s obsession with the composer. An attractive group of people, he thought. The woman had big eyes, long black hair, and a thin structure with beige skin. Two of the men looked to be twins, both with shoulder length blonde hair and long pointed noses and matching beards. The last man had a perfectly symmetrical face, deep brown skin, and long coiled hair that he had braided back. He had never seen such a beautiful bunch before, and Dmitry was intimidated. He felt like an intruder, like he had unknowingly walked past a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and straight into a private intimate get-together to which he was not invited.

He quietly sat his bag down at what he assumed was the front desk and began to wander over to the domineering group to introduce himself when suddenly the most extravagant women that he had ever laid his eyes on, feathered into the room with a charcuterie board of fine meats, expensive cheeses and delicate fruits elegantly balancing on one hand and an open bottle of French wine in the other.

The elongated woman had wavy golden brown, hair that poured down her back, hugging the curves of her tight waist, with luminous olive toned skin that made her emerald, green eyes glow in the dim lighting. She wore a bold red lipstick and a giant smile with the most perfectly straight teeth. The mystery woman was adorned in a floor-length purple velvet robe with fur trim around the collar and cuffs of her wrists that matched the aesthetic of the décor.

Dmitry was in awe, borderline shocked. She seemed almost extraterrestrial to him. Every movement she made was with pure intent and grace. He imagined if a person were to look up the word “elegant” in the dictionary, it would be a photo of her.

His hands began to get clammy as he realized she noticed him. She was on a path directed towards him and for a moment he felt the urge to turn towards the door and walk out as if he were never there.

“Hi, I’m Helene, will you be checking in?” She said to him while enforcing the most intense eye contact as she analyzed him.

“Uhm, yes.” Being the only thing Dmitry was able to expel from his mouth, his eyes darting around the room while his anxiety amplified each second that her eyes stayed latched onto his.

“Okay, I will need your ID and a form of payment, please, preferably cash.” Helene said as she directed him to the front desk.

A bell in his mind rang as the voice in his head told him it was odd that she preferred cash, but he thought,

“What do I know?”

His hand trembled as he reached his ID and what cash he had on him to meet hers’,accidentally grazing his sweaty hand against her soft delicate skin. Dmitry was nervous. Although, he had been around plenty of beautiful woman before, Helene, seemed vastly different in comparison to the women back home, she wasn’t intimated by him, like he was used to. Dmitry was a healthy, handsome young man. With slick black hair, fair skin, piercing blue eyes and a structured jaw. People would often compare him to Clark Kent or Superman. However, her essence and the willful attitude that radiated from her made him feel small and inferior.

“Dmitry is your name?” Helene asked as she scanned his ID with her gleaming eyes.

He responded, “Yes, but you can call me Mitch.” As he shoved his damp hands in his pockets to hide his embarrassment.

“Mitch?” She scoffed theatrically with an offended look on her face. “I like Dmitry much better.” She continued “You’ll be upstairs in room number 3”, with a fiery desire in her eyes and a raised eyebrow that seemed suggestive, to say the least.

He could not say much else after that remark, so he gathered his things and floated up the stair and into his appointed room. He threw his bag on the floor and tossed himself on to the bed. When he closed his eyes, he could not stop his brain from flickering in the images of Helene. Her deep green eyes that glistened when she smiled, or how he wished to be the lipstick that caressed her lips. Dmitry quickly slipped away into dreamland as he romanticized the couple of minutes he had had with the beautiful Helene.

Dmitry awoke in the middle of the night to the smell of something cooking. Confused as to why anyone would be cooking so late, he decided to follow the alluring smells. He made his way back down the stairs and to the front desk. There were not any clocks that he could see in the house but imagined that it was late because the people that were here earlier, were gone. He looked down the hall next to the lounge area and noticed what he assumed was the kitchen door. He felt like a child sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack when he stopped at the door to take a little peek to see who he would be disturbing. As he was peeking through the crack in the door, he saw Helene wearing a white apron that was speckled with blood and a black silk slip dress underneath. It was hard for him to tell but it looked as though she was butchering a type of meat that he did not recognize. The blood in his face started to rise when he realized how creepy it was that he was watching her without her knowledge and figured he should do anything else than what he was currently doing, which was technically spying on her.

He slowly pushed the swinging door open and walked into the surprisingly modern kitchen. Compared to the rest of Helene’s décor, the kitchen seemed out of place to him, as if he were in an entirely different house.

“Oh, Dmitry, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked, appearing as if he had slightly startled her by his unannounced intrusion. She began to quickly clean up her mess. Taking her apron off and using it to cover the bloody meat on the counter.

“Oh, no, not really. I often have troubles sleeping.” he reassured her. Posing like a child, staring at his feet, and gesturing his hands as if to say, “Sorry for barging in, continue what you’re doing.” Dmitry tried to keep his view to the floor, worried that she may feel uncomfortable with him staring at her minimally covered body.

“Oh, really? Well, I have herbal tea for that. Would you like a cup? I was just getting ready for the special dinner I had planned for tomorrow night. I’m a bit of a night owl, as you can see. I’ll clean up in here and bring you some fresh tea. I even have a chocolate cake cooling, as well, if you would like a sweet treat?” She said confidently yet with a sense of urgency in her voice that Dmitry did not pick up on.

“What can’t this woman do?” He thought to himself.

“I would like that, yes. Thank you!” Dmitry said, feeling anxious but still curious to learn more about her.

“Go have a seat in the lounge area and I will be right out.” She said, ending her sentence with a head nod and closed mouth smile.

He took a seat on the end of her vintage mustard yellow couch and waited a while, wondering if she will want him to go back to his room or if she would like to sit and chat. As he rattled off topics in his head to get her to stay and talk, she walked in with two teacups and a teapot. Excitement lit up his face as he realized she would, indeed, be joining him.

Helene sat down on the couch next to him and poured him a cup of tea. “So, Dmitry, tell me about yourself.” She spoke. He took a large gulp of tea, finishing off the small cup, while he contemplated what he should say to her. The pressure from feeling exposed and vulnerable caused the flood gates opened, and he bared all. He told her about his father’s recent death and the resentment he felt towards him. How his mother tragically died of cancer when he was a teenager. And the weight of the pain he carries alone, being an only child and not having someone else to share his burdens with. He had never had such an engaging and open conversation with someone like this before. She listened to his pain so intensely, however she seemed to smile at inappropriate times of his life story. Dmitry thought it was cute. He made it up in his head that her smiling at the painful parts of his life was like a spiritual hug to tell him that everything was okay and a nudge to get him to keep going. He felt connected to her on almost every level. After some time, he realized that he had been talking for too long and decided to shift the conversation over to her.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been going on and on. Please, tell me about yourself. What inspired you to open a bed and breakfast or did you inherit it? Did you build the house, or did you buy it and fix it up? Have you always had an interest in hospitality? Are you from here? What’s something you like to do?” He rambled on.

“Well…” Helene started to say and then trailed off as if she did not know where to begin with the myriad of questions that he had thrown at her. “I bought this house some time ago and have put a lot of time and effort into keeping it preserved as best I can. I enjoy tending to others and hosting parties, sure, however, my favorite thing to do and the thing that I have honed very well would be cooking and baking. I can cook and bake anything, from brisket to cupcakes…Speaking of baking, the chocolate cake should be cool by now. I’ll put the final touches on it and grab you a slice.” As she got up from the couch and fluttered into the kitchen, Dmitry could not help but to feel like he had ambushed her with his questioning and scared her off. Although, he did not want their night to end, nothing sounded better than a midnight snack.

While Helene was grabbing a piece a cake, Dmitry realized that the tea must have been strong because he felt like he could fall asleep where he was sitting. He leaned forward and placed his head into his hands. When he looked down, he saw a woman’s white high heeled shoe peeking out from under the couch.

“Odd, maybe they had too much wine at the party, and someone pulled a Cinderella” he smirked.

He grabbed the shoe and notices that it had blood on the side it.

“Can’t explain that” he said to himself, now feeling unwell.

Helene scurried back into the room and handed him a slice of cake, while simultaneously taking the shoe from his weak hand. “Oh, Ginger must have left this, silly girl.” Helene said in an annoyed tone. Not sure what to think or do, he scooped out a large piece of cake with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. Dmitry thought the cake was delicious, but the feeling of Helene calculating his movements caused his intuition to scream at him that something was not right. As he moved the mush around in his mouth, he felt something odd. He grabbed hold of it with his fingers and pulled a long black hair out of his mouth. It was too long to be his and too dark to be hers. Dmitry suddenly felt the urgency to leave.

“So, what do you think?” Helene asked with a suspiciously large toothy grin.

He stood up and commended her, “It’s great, yeah, I’d have another bite but uhm, I’m feeling tired from the tea. It’s a lot stronger than I thought it would be. I’m going to grab some water from the kitchen and take it up to bed with me, if that’s okay.” He tried to walk but quickly began to stumble, he felt himself fighting his own legs to move properly and to keep his eyes open. He could feel Helene stalking him as he tried to make his way through the hallway and to the kitchen, he stumbled into the walls with each step. Step, fumble, smack. Step, fumble smack. Once to the kitchen door he placed all his weight on the it, forgetting that it swings open and fell through, hitting the floor. He frantically dragged his heavy body to the island in the kitchen and pulled himself up to his feet. Dmitry looked around as he tried to figure out what was happening when suddenly horror stuck him as he saw the disembodied woman from the party, bloody and cut to pieces on the kitchen counter. He started to gag while the clues pieced together in his head. The haunting realization that Helene was not just a murderer but a cannibal as well, crept inside every fiber of his body. Dmitry’s heart began to race as he mulled over all the things she might do to him. He tried to make a run for the back door but was forced to stop when he felt a large object smash against the back of his head. Thud. His body hit the ground faster than the pain from the blow could register, and then everything went black.

The cold brick basement wall against Dmitry’s back awoke him, his vision blurry and distorted from the blunt force trauma to his head. The old rusty shackles around his wrists kept him tied to the floor, rendering him unable to escape. Tears swelled in his eyes as the reality set in. The strong, confident, jaded man was dissolved from him, revealing a sad, lonely boy. Dmitry let out a defeated cry.

A bright light flashed on and the old wooden stairs creaked menacingly as Helene made her way down into the damp basement. She is no longer the woman he was imagining from earlier. Her skin appeared sickly under the fluorescent light, her bones poked through her papery skin and her hair had a weird, green undertone.

She knelt on the floor in front of him. “Poor, Dmitry. Don’t cry, it’s okay, I have something fun planned for you! First, I'll let you stew in your own pity but only for a while. People taste better the more traumatized they are. Luckily, for me, I hit the jackpot with you. Such a traumatic and sad life you have had... Next, I will take a little chunk of fat from your thigh, just to see what kind of flavors you will pair best with. After I have found the best pairing, I will go ahead and saw off your legs. Don't worry, though. Once I'm all done with that, I'll put you out of your misery. I just want to have some fun with you first.” Helene lets out a devilish laugh. "You know..." She continued while she pulled up his shirt to expose his skin. "The fat on your stomach might make a terrific addition to my family's goulash recipe." she said with a crooked smile and hunger in her eyes.

Dmitry screamed and thrashed his body around using what little will he had left to live.

Helene leered over him, “Don't tense up too much. I need you nice and tender.” She said as she turned her back to him. Her laughter continued with her back up the stairs and stopped suddenly when she slammed the basement door shut.

Dmitry’s screams got louder and louder, but they could not be heard, for the southern live oak trees on this winding abandoned road hold a great secret for Helene. The swamp hosts the bones and decay of her victims. Fertilizing the trees and haunting the forest, allowing them to grow stronger with each fatality. The forest knows, many have checked into this mysterious Bed and Breakfast, but no one has ever checked out.