holy food

A short story / written by H.x.F

The first story in the Good Meat City Stories collection

The lottery fell on me, my father, so why do I cry? Why do I see sadness in your eyes, my brothers ... Why do you cry for my parting, my mother!

 Our parting is not that hard.

We must meet in the land of sacred food without our burdens.

Only we are pure, purified from sin, sorrow and remorse.

 But now I shall have the honour of being at the gracious dinner table of the mayor of our city (Jude Mitt),

I know that in return, he will provide you, my family, with breakfast, lunch and dinner for the rest of your life.

 I will protect you from famine... It is okay for my flesh to be sacred food for the president and his entourage. It is the greatest service to our country and the greatest honour.

 I know that all the alternatives have ended. There are no edible animals or plants... Only we are left.

Suddenly my mother screams with joy behind me at my father / Wait, my husband, do not slaughter him...

There is news on TV

He says that our city has received a new tourist group coming to us...

Rejoice, we don't need to offer our flesh to anyone to get our food.

The voices of the forks and knives held by my sister’s rose and they happily rested on the table.