Everyone told me to stay away from the McClains’ house. My mom told me, my boyfriend me, the entire tenth grade told me. But what could I do? It was a rainy night and that was the only house for miles. Maybe I should’ve just kept walking. I could’ve found a hotel or a gas station eventually. Now, I’m running through the backwoods with Mama Darla tracking me down with a hunting cleaver.

I’ve never really had a good look at Mama Darla before but I can tell she’s a big woman by the bass in her steps. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I hear them bellow throughout the woods. They’re constantly followed by two sets of softer steps, the ones of her daughters Dahlia and Delilah. The girls can’t be more than eight or nine years old and she’s already using them as bloodhounds.

I take a chance by catching my breath behind a tree but if I run for one more second, my lungs will catch on fire. All those days of skipping gym really came back to bite me in the ass. I suck in the air intensely, gratefully in fact, until I hear the aggressive foot steps. She has to be less than fifteen feet away from me.

“But Mama, I’m tired.”, I hear one of the twins say. From the times I saw them, I was never
able to tell them apart.

“Don’t you start whinin’ now, little girl.” Mama Darla’s voice is gruff and callous. “If your sister can run out huntin’, you can too. Besides, I told ya what would happen if you pitched a fit like this again.”

I can hear the little girl begin to cry.

“Please! Please don’t! I wanna’ eat tonight!”

“Oh, you think I ain’t gon feed you? No, you’re gonna be feeding me. Now, if I hear one more goddamn peep outta ya, Imma’ hang you on the hook and gut ya like a fuckin’ fish!


Then, there’s a sharp thump, maybe a hand against soft, supple flesh. The sound is so sudden, it almost makes me jump.

“GO!”, Mama Darla shouts.

Though I can’t see her face, I see the silhouette of the girl pass by me, her hand against her face and the continued sound of young sobs. Despite the fact that she’s a part of a hunt to murder me, I can’t help but feel bad for her. I can’t help but begin to wonder why Mama Darla even got her daughters mixed up in all of this. Why did she start any of this at all? But before I can wonder any farther, I feel a dull object slam hard against the right side of my skull. I land on my stomach, cushioned by a pile of leaves as I feel my senses of limited sight and hearing starting to escape me. Fortunately, before I’m completely gone, I hear…

“Mama, I got her!”

“Good pet. Here’s your treat, baby girl. Now get ya sister. I got a lesson to teach her.

I wake up to a single, straining light in an otherwise dusky room, but now that my vision’s clearing, I can take in every detail of the dungeon I’m in. It has the look of an abandoned attic or basement but much more suffocating. A checkerboard floor covered with scattered muddy footprints and in the center, a rickety wooden table fenced in by three old poker chairs with ripped up cushions. I turn my head to right to see one of the twins, asleep, unconscious or maybe even dead, hanging crucifixion style on the wall and her face colorfully decorated with bruises. Next to her, springing out of the wall, a massive, rusty hook with a tip of dried red crust. The other wall is covered up by rusting kitchenware that looks like it’s been saved since the forties: clunky, complicated and nostalgic. The other twin is standing by the table with a wicked smile to match her mother’s, who’s staring me dead in the face.

“Well, well, well.”, she says to me. “You were quite a find. A pretty little girl in her pretty little dress.” She fluffs at my now dingy and torn homecoming dress. “But you’re a little far from your neck of the woods, ain’t ya? You city folks should know by now, I don’t take kindly to strangers interruptin’ me from my business. But you’re gonna teach all of ‘em. They’ll all learn when they see me pickin’ your delicious self outta my teeth. After all, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good catch.”

A sharpness slashes swiftly across my throat and with that, I’m out again.

Mama Darla lays me out on the table and with her best peeler, starts skinning, tearing my flesh from my body. She has the obedient twin hold me down as apparently, I’m quite tough. My useless flesh is tossed aside and she begins the magic she’s known for. I’m chopped up into equally divided bits within the hour. While my entrails are packed and saved for another day, my thighs, stomach and one of my boobs are boiling as we speak. My other boob is tossed aside due to its lack of fattiness, along with my calves, arms and neck. Quantity wise, I turn out to be pretty disappointing, but Mama Darla isn’t one to throw away fresh meat, especially when hungry. As I’m boiling, the sounds of the oven come and go sporadically, along with the scrapings of a spoon against a bowl. The naughty twin makes no more sounds.

Mama Darla turns off the heat and spreads me across the countertop. I’m being in warm butter with a stiff, tickly brush before being evenly pressed in the heat of an iron frying pan. When I finally cool, I’m carefully placed on a polished serving tray to be sprinkled with the juice of a fresh lemon and herbs and spices. The obedient twin just finished setting the table when Mama Darla placed me down, freshly served. The obedient twin is about to dig in when Mama Darla slaps her and tells her that dessert is almost ready.

Fresh out of the oven, Mama Darla pulls out the sweetest smelling chocolate cake to ever exist. She touches it lightly and it springs back instantly. Perfect. As she stacks the layers, she spreads my creamy yet lumpy pinkish brain matter in between each one until they are evenly coated. In a saved cup, my warm, syrupy blood is poured over the top and the obedient twin watches in wonder as my liquid trickles down the spongy cake. And the cherry, my left eyeball, decorated with a beautiful hazel iris, to place right on the top.
It is all breathtaking. It is a meal made for a queen.