Market Day
28th February, Story #59/366
"Girl! Girl!" the Chickens squawked.
"GIRRRRL!" the cows boomed.
"What day is it, Girl!" shouted the Pig.
It was always a cacophony when she crossed the yard. Sometimes she put her hands over her ears, but it didn't help much.
Dinnertime. Gran would serve dead bits of someone who spoke just days ago.
Rosie hated summers with her grandparents. They tried to jolly her out of vegetarianism, like it was a phase.
Now: two hours of pushing lumps of flesh round a plate. Unable to eat the things beside it either. Then, skulking to bed under Gran's pinched stare. Burrowing under the blankets, still feeling sick. The stink of seared flesh finally fading from her nose, to be replaced by growling in her belly.
Until morning brought the dream of toast, shattered by the scent of bacon before she reached the foot of the stairs.
She'd never told anyone about her talent. Couldn't handle the disbelief, the Dolittle jokes, and, if anyone did believe her, the assumption that it was something cute.
She'd become very thin. The hunger, the nausea, the vomiting... that was bad enough. But the yelling, the questions that pelted her like stones. The screaming, the begging. She felt like an empty sack, hollow of food and sleep. Sluggish, every moment a heavy grey fog.
Morning sunlight streamed into the kitchen. The scent of bacon filled the air. Humming, she poked the strips of flesh around the pan, like Gran had done so many times. It didn't smell so bad.
After breakfast, she ventured out to feed the animals.
"Hello, Pig," she said softly.
"Girl," he grunted. "What day is it?"
"Market Day," she whispered in reply. "But not for you."
The pig was silent except for the munching sounds.
The absence of a thorough grilling was palpable, like silk where your skin expected brambles.
In the farmhouse, they lay stock still, staring in shocked silence at the ceiling. A fly landed on Gran's leg, where strips of flesh had been removed. Distant humming and cheerful sunlight poured through the window.
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Word count (excluding note): 366
Submitted on 28th February at 23:42
Quick Author's Note
First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!
Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it! Especially if you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure.
If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another.
Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: This is not autobiographical. I have never been vegetarian in my life.
A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 59 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post. It's also pinned to the top of my profile.
Thank you
Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads. Please do leave a comment, and I'll pop over and read one of yours as soon as I can.
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More stories from L.C. Schäfer and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (13)
honestly this is INCREDIBLE, i had to read it like three times before i noticed the implications. got dang, that got me. and my latest story may not interest you, but i am in the process of writing a book, so i suppose i will publish the chapters on vocal before posting it out into the world...? i oughta do that! but this was fan-tastic! and i am kinda-sorta participating in this story-a-day-for-a-year challenge since writing a book is sort of like writing a piece of a story each day. anyway this boggled my mind, fantastic and.. uh, gruesome, but hey, i'm used to it. horror is my favorite genre
Oh damn! I had to read it twice to make sure I got it. I love when the horror of the ending comes a bit out of the blue at me. Did not expect her to eat the grandparents, but I suppose it only makes sense :) very well told!
Oof, dark turn at the end! Great work as always LC!
Vegetarian for the past 35 years or so. And I remember older relatives trying to tease it out of me. I wonder if they had tasty legs. Great bit of writing.
Oh my! Quite different . Enjoyed the story !
God I was so scared reading this because I was terrified you're gonna kill an animal. I'm so grateful you didn't! I'm a vegetarian for the past 14 years. I related so much with Rosie except her ability to hear amimals talk. Loved your ending! Gran had it coming! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Jeepers! That was a surprise. I'm not having bacon for breakfast today.
I take it she went for an oxymoron: aged veal (from grandmother's calf).
Yikes! What an ending! So good.
Grannyburgers next? Quite the story! She should have marinated her all night, though. And add Tabasco.
What did I just read? I'm all for vegetarianism, if that's your jam, Veganism if your politics lean further afield, but poor Gran. I felt so sorry for the girl. What a terrible affliction to have with no power. You always pack so much in. Well done.
Oh, that was quite the ending. Karma!
The girl’s and conviction are impressive. I felt her revulsion at eating her friends. Great storytelling! Don’t know if you’re a vegan or not, but my wife and I are. Have been for years. Neither of us can talk to animals though. 😁