By Chef Unfey
Before I start this off I just wanna say, this is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me. I’m not normally a cannibal (there’s a sentence I never expected to type). I’ve always been a very normal, well-adjusted person. I feel like I should be freaking out a lot more than I am right now, but I’m not, and I think that’s what freaks me out the most— I think I’m in denial?? I hope I’m in denial. I hope typing this out helps me.
I’ve been house-sitting for the past couple weeks for some family friends. They’re the kind of rich people who put solar panels on everything. Their house is big, eco-friendly, with a faux rustic theme and a really great high-def TV, which is great for gaming. They’re way, way out in the boonies, though. Nothing around for miles except forest and alpaca farms. Really beautiful scenery, though.
I decided to take a walk through the woods around the property. To be perfectly honest, actually, I was chasing a Vulpix on Pokemon Go. I wandered around for a very long time trying to figure out where the fuck this thing was (I know the footprints mean 100 meters? I never got past 3 footprints. Maybe someone can explain this to me. I mean that’s not my biggest problem right now. I’m losing focus). Anyways, I came to the edge of the property. There’s no fence or marker or anything, but I could tell I was nearby Edith Grant’s house because the trail got really unkempt and I could see old beer cans and other trash sticking out of the humus.
Edith is a neighbor, and my family friends specifically brought her up when they were giving me information about my jobs around the property. Apparently, she’s kind of a nutjob. She occasionally came by to complain about noise, when there was no noise, and she also liked to show up and angrily preach scripture. She’s harmless, they told me, but I’m still supposed to be careful with her.
I’d been everywhere else on the property, and I hadn’t gotten any close to the Vulpix, so I thought “what the hell” and ventured onto Edith’s land.
Soon I started seeing signs. They were nailed to trees and stuck out of the ground. Painted on whitewashed wood, they read:
“Because she has rebelled against her GOD, they shall fall by the sword, their little ones shall be dashed in pieces, and their pregnant women ripped open HOESES 13:16”
“GOD HATES F**S!”
“AMERICA is the LAND OF THE DAMNED and the HOME OF THE BEAST”
“He cursed them in the name of the LORD. Then two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the boys KINGS 2:24”
There were like a hundred of these, and they were huge, and nailed up everywhere. There were a couple that looked like they were from the Clinton administration, accusing him of being the antichrist.
So I walked through, checking these things out. Edith seemed like such an angry person. I remember thinking, specifically, “What has to happen to a person to make them so hateful?” And that’s when I saw the dead body.
It was cold, bluish-white, and small. The body of a little boy, probably about six years old. About thirty feet in front of me. I walked up to it, with such a strange, nonchalant feeling. I know I should have been horrified. But I didn’t feel horror. I felt… curiosity, I guess. The left leg was caught in a rusty bear trap I hadn’t noticed before. He (it’s so absurd to think of the body as a he rather than an it) was wearing a blue windbreaker and a pair of bloody sweatpants. He had brown hair. His eyes were sunken. I couldn’t tell how long he’d been dead for. More than a few hours, probably. I don’t know much about rigor mortis or anything like that. I can tell you the flesh was very cold, and soft.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I decided I had to eat it. It was so fucking surreal. I was looking at the leg, the one in the animal trap, and then I was picking it up, holding it to my teeth. It didn’t smell like a dead body. I mean, I guess I don’t have a lot of experience with dead bodies. Well, okay, I do now. But— you get it. It smelled like ice cream. It smelled like vanilla and sugar. And when I bit into the skin, what came spilling out was— I swear to god— blue funfetti cake.
Here’s where things get weird. Things were pretty weird already, I guess. But as I was eating this corpse in the woods, I could smell, taste, and see blue funfetti cake. It felt like blue cake in my mouth. But I could hear these awful sounds as I was doing it, like the rending of flesh and bone and sinew. Which is what it was, really. And as I ate and ate, I just got hungrier and hungrier. I didn’t know what was going on and I wasn’t questioning it all that much. I ate the entire thing. A whole, small human corpse. A child. And it was delicious.
Here’s another weird thing. The body had all sorts of weird marks on it— weird-looking burn marks, bruises, cuts, and what looked like stab wounds??? It was pretty clear that this boy had been badly abused before he was murdered. I wasn’t thinking about that at the time, though. All I could feel at the time was this intense need to keep shoveling blue cake-flesh into my mouth.
When I was finished, all I had left was the blue jacket, bloody pants, and dirty sneakers, which I stuck in my backpack. I hung out there for awhile, just trying to comprehend exactly what I’d just done. It was only after about forty-five minutes of contemplation that I finally looked up and saw Edith’s farmhouse poking out from over the hill. She was sitting on her upstairs porch. She was watching me. When I saw her, she stood up and went back inside her house.
I walked back home. Never found the Vulpix. Maybe I should have stopped looking for the Vulpix. I don’t know. I think I should have ran home, and called the police, or something. I didn’t. I felt really, weirdly chill about the whole ordeal. And I guess maybe I convinced myself it hadn’t happened?
I made myself some tea and watched a sitcom re-run on the High-def TV. I probably could have fallen asleep and forgotten about the entire thing, like it had never happened, except that I’d brought the backpack of clothes home.
A few hours later, I get an amber alert on my phone. A little boy has gone missing in my area. And I’m sitting there on these rich people’s sofa, feeling extremely full, and pretty guilty. I know it can’t be the same kid. The corpse I ate belonged to a boy younger than the one that’s gone missing. It was someone’s little boy, though. And I’m worried the same thing that happened to him is about to happen to again.
Here’s the thing— I am 95% positive that Edith Grant is involved in the kidnapping and murder of these kids. Call it a hunch. I’m also 100% positive that I can’t go to the police with the evidence I have (the bloody clothes of a murder victim and the contents of my stomach). Edith saw what I did. She knows that I know. I have to do something. There’s more to this mystery than I understand.
I’m all by myself in a house in the woods, it’s getting dark, there’s a murderer next-door, and worst of all, I’m really craving funfetti cake right now.