#cannibalism

The sweltering summer is especially unbearable for me, not to mention the endless rain, which is slowly driving me insane. Savage pains torment my body. Everything inside me swells and bursts, so violently that sometimes I simply pass out. Every step I take feels like a thousand nails being driven into my flesh. My calves explode, oozing meat and fat, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. But physical suffering can be endured. You can switch yourself off for a while.

Once, I visited the strangest restaurant. But it was not a normal restaurant, and I am not normal anymore either, since that fateful encounter with a cook called Alice. It was back during my college days when a friend from high school introduced me to the place. My friend, let's call him Sam, noticed me when I was shopping, browsing the aisle in search of new shoes to replace the pair that broke. At first I didn't recognize him because he looked so different. Sam was a lot thinner than he was…

Our archipelago is an excellent hunting ground. In all our cities, in all our towns, in all our places, it's incredibly easy to spot the prey you're pursuing. In fact, it's almost impossible not to encounter them. Like a plague, thousands upon thousands of them fly nonstop to the islands, like a plague of locusts. When the heat increases, their numbers also increase.

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Up and up the rough-hewn steps tramp the wormy feet of countless dark denizens. They move in silence through the earth's bowels with a singular purpose. Stirred from restless sleep and unholy dreams. Stirred from aimless wriggling and horrid scavenging. Stirred by the voice of their beloved mother, vast and terrible. She bids them rise, and rise they do. None shall disobey their doting matriarch. And so, they rise the ancient steps and forgotten causeways. Passing through slimy tunnels filled…

It's funny how tales like this cling to you, worming their way into your mind, gnawing away, festering like a wound. They say truth is stranger than fiction, but sometimes the stories we pass down—the ones we whisper in shadowy corners or over drinks at seedy bars—are more chilling and grotesque than any proven fact. This is one of those tales. A fable, sure, but one that sits far too close to reality. Told by those who find comfort in the macabre, and believed by those who understand that the…

Sarah had always been an early riser. Her job as a nurse required it, and after years on the same schedule, her body woke her before the sun even began to rise. This morning was no different. As she shuffled into the kitchen, she flicked on the light and set the kettle to boil.