C is for Cannibals: A-Z of Horror, #3

By P.J. Blakey-Novis

**WARNING - GRAPHIC CONTENT**
C is for Cannibals, the third book in an epic series of twenty-six horror anthologies. Within these pages you will find a collection of thirteen gut-wrenching stories from some of the finest independent writers on the scene today. From those with a taste for human flesh to people merely trying to survive, C is for Cannibals contains a range of twisted stories not for the weak of stomach. You have been warned!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Cape Publishing
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201962951

Book preview

Red Cape Publishing Presents...

The A-Z of Horror: C is for Cannibals

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 Red Cape Publishing

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Red Cape Graphic Design

Www.redcapepublishing.com/red-cape-graphic-design

Interior Artwork by Art Autopsy

Www.redcapepublishing.com/art-autopsy

With special thanks to our supporters on Patreon

Lesley Drane

David Green

Tim Kellum

Www.patreon.com/redcapepublishing

The Screaming Dinner

Oscar Kirby

Kevin used his phone as a mirror to check that his long hair was still pulled back right and tied up, that his goatee was straight and that all his piercings looked good. He knew that any of the guys would rib him for doing it but right now he was alone and didn't care. He was standing on the corner of Macy's street and was about to meet her family for the first time.

She'd given him all sorts of warnings about how weird and embarrassing they were, but Kevin reckoned anyone thinks that of their folks. God, there was nothing in common between him and his remaining family. Macy's Dad was supposed to be a butcher, her Mum was some kind of alternative artist, and her brother had mental problems. That all sounded like a fairly metal group to him.

He walked down the street, wallet chain jingling, checking the letterboxes to make sure he was going to get the right house. She lived at number 69, which he was sure to remember. She'd said he would know it when he saw it, that her mother had a special kind of decorating.

She wasn't kidding, either. Stuck between the very normal yards of numbers 67 and 71, the front of Macy's place stood out like an impaled thumb.

The first thing he noticed was that the entire area between the footpath and the front door had been surfaced in concrete. Not very well, either, so you could see lots of patches and cracks, or areas where the ground had slumped and been stained by rainwater. Coming up out of this lumpen surface was a set of six creations made from dark metal.

They were obviously meant to be trees. All of them were about six feet high. Most of them were unadorned, their stark metal branches painted haphazardly with red paint. One of them had three big crows tied to it; they looked like shoddy taxidermy, their feathers threadbare and ruffled. The last tree was closest to him at the letterbox. Its branches were all pointed upwards and on the end of each was a small doll's head. Some of the heads had been painted red.

Alright! he said to himself. This was kind of what he'd been hoping for when she'd said her Mum was an artist. It reminded him of art on Vomitleech's album covers.

With a new interest in meeting the artist, he walked around the sculptures and got to the front door. It was the kind of flat painted metal that he associated with Navy ships in films. He pressed the doorbell but there was no sound from inside. Wondering if it was broken, he leaned on it again.

The door was pulled open and the very welcome sight of a grinning Macy greeted him. She looked dolled up in a black and red dress, though she still had her favourite choker on, black with an amethyst on the front. He appreciated all this before she threw her arms round his neck and gave him a nice hard kiss.

Hey babe, she said, looking in his eyes up close. You found me.

Yep, I got you. What do I win?

A suburban dinner with the family, and you're the guest of honour. The grin faded a bit. Seriously, I hope you're not freaked out by this.

No way; just let me turn on the charm. Parents can't resist me.

Hah, she said, letting go of him and glancing over her shoulder. I'm more worried about you not liking them. They're pretty weird.

Do I look like a normal person? he asked, gesturing at his face. She laughed.

Well, okay, Macy said. Just promise me you won't get freaked out by Roger. He's having a bit of a bad day, you know. Some people find it a bit much.

Nah, I'm easy. We'll get on fine. Hey, I think your doorbell is broke or something, it didn't make any noise.

No, it's not. She leaned over and pressed the button. Now he heard a chiming in the house. It's the soundproofing. Dad's had the house done. Roger makes a lot of noise sometimes and he didn't want the neighbours to hear.

Oh, OK. Kevin figured that was something he probably shouldn't comment on, though it sounded pretty heavy. Instead he followed her into the house, letting her pull him by one hand.

His first viewing of the Montolvere house gave him a mix of impressions. The floors were all dark wood, almost black, while the furniture was mostly warm wood with richly coloured coverings. There were a lot of small statues on doilies, the majority of which were metal and portraying farm animals. Cows and pigs were the most popular subjects. There was also a lot of framed needlework which also had pastoral themes of pigs and cows standing about farmyards.

That was the impression he got from being led through a hallway and lounge room into a big kitchen-cum-dining room. The dark wood theme continued here with the room dominated by a large wooden dining table. He didn't have time to take in the whole space as Macy was pulling him towards a stout middle-aged couple who were smiling expectantly.

Mum, Dad, Macy took a theatrical deep breath. This is my boyfriend, Kevin.

Nice to meet you, Kevin smiled his most charming smile. What a lovely home.

Nice to finally meet you. Macy's Dad was shorter than Kevin but much broader. He gave the impression of both weight and strength, with broad shoulders and a big gut. His face was jowly and florid, with a large reddish nose. He stuck out a broad hand that Kevin shook with some reservations, but his hand wasn't crushed, just gripped firmly enough to show it could be.

It's good of you to eat with us, Mrs Montolvere said. She was the same height as her husband, solidly built though thinner than him, with long dark hair. She wore too much makeup around the eyes which gave her a haunted look. She was holding a large knife and only seemed to remember it when she saw Kevin glance at it.

Oh, my dear, I am sorry. She bustled over to the counter and stuck the blade to a magnetic rack full of knives and cleavers. I was tidying and forgot it was even in my hand. Hope I didn't frighten you, Kevin?

No, I do that sort of thing all the time, he reassured her. Something smells good.

That's the roast. Mrs Montolvere smiled and placed a hand on his arm. I do hope you're not a vegetarian, dear. We're all terrible carnivores here.

I cut the legs myself, Mr Montolvere admitted. It's a good piece of meat.

He looked about to extrapolate further but his wife interrupted to suggest that they all sit down while the meat cooked. She asked if he would like a drink.

Sure, uh, whatever everyone else is having.

How about cold juice? she asked, taking a pitcher out of the fridge. I'm afraid we don't drink alcohol, Kevin.

No, juice is great. Kevin felt as though she was saying his name to impress it on her memory. A glass of yellowish juice was placed in front of everyone and he took a sip, then tried not to make a face at the pineapple sourness of tropical flavour. He said 'thank you' instead.

So, Kevin, Macy tells is you're in a band? her father asked, making him glad he'd already swallowed.

Yes, I am. Are you folks interested in music?

I had to do piano as a child, Mrs Montolvere said. That was a long time ago. Never liked it much even then. It's a bit of a mystery where Macy gets her talent from.

She used to bang away on pots and pans as a little one, Mr Montolvere commented warmly. Never thought much of it at the time. Now I see her practicing on the drum kit and it all makes a kind of sense, y'know?

Well I hope you'll tell me all the most embarrassing stories, sir.

The older couple burst out laughing as Macy slapped him on the arm. Kevin waited for there to be an invitation to call the older man by a first name, but it didn't come.

Macy's parents went on with more reminisces of when she had been small and the many ways she'd found to create percussion. He'd heard a lot of it from Macy already, so he didn't need to follow it too closely, just nodding and laughing at the appropriate times. Macy seemed used to the stories and only groaned good-naturedly when each one was wheeled out.

As usual, when he wasn't that engaged by conversation, he found himself scrutinising the room with little flicking glances. His eye was drawn first to the magnetic knife rack over the counter, where Mrs Montolvere had placed the one she had been holding. He hadn't appreciated at first just how many items were attached to the rack, or just how long it was. It stretched the whole length of the counter, about six feet. The entire surface was covered in blades: knives big and small, thin and broad, curved and straight. There were several types of cleaver, from a large one that looked as though it was straight out of a horror movie to little ones that he couldn't imagine the uses for.

It looked like a collection. He mentally shrugged. People collected some strange stuff, why should kitchen knives be so weird?

There was a different kind of art hanging in the kitchen too. There were several framed illustrations of livestock with their cuts of meat marked out on them in red lines. There was something depressing about them, like they were grim premonitions of death. His eye kept going back to one particular piece of a sheep, its mad eye rendered with an expression of terror, its body split up like a map.

I can see you've noticed my work, Mrs Montolvere surprised him. Do you like them?

Oh, uh, yes, Kevin tried to recover. They seem so lifelike.

They're my tribute to Dario's work, she said. He noticed her voice was much richer now than when she had been discussing pleasantries. A celebration of life which is given up for others. Or so I was hoping.

I feel almost like I've seen them before, he tried.

From manuals, Mr Montolvere chimed in. From butchery manuals, old ones. Sometimes you see 'em in those fancy homewares shops as little prints. I agree with you, these ones are much more lifelike. Scary, almost.

Yes, Kevin said. Maybe. Yes.

You should show him your other ones, honey, the older guy told his wife. Those are real scary.

Kevin looked politely interested as Mrs Montolvere left the room and returned with two large canvases, propping them up on the table for him to appreciate.

The first was a very realistic painting of a human head. Half of it was normal, albeit bald and with an expression of stark fright in its eyes. The other half of the head was split into floating strata of skin, muscles, nerves and blood vessels. It was an exploded diagram of a head, which seemed to be feeling the full horror of its situation.

The other was a full body diagram of a human being, which reminded him of the famous Da Vinci illustration that he couldn't remember the name of. Something Man? This was much worse than that. For one thing, this one wore an expression of fear to match that on the sheep. Instead of being labelled with artistic terms, this human body was divided by red lines the same as those on the animals.

Dario helped me with the cuts of meat here, she said. I wanted to show how much we have in common with the animals we eat. A lot of the same pieces of meat are there.

Wow, Kevin said. They're really well done. It reminds me of some album covers that I've seen for some thrash metal bands.

Macy agreed with him as Mrs Montolvere looked pleased.

You could get a career in album art, Kevin said, not really joking.

She was stopped from replying by a ringing noise from the stove. Kevin saw that there was a small pink timer in the shape of a pig, vibrating along the countertop.

Oh, the leg's done, the older woman said. I'll just put these away.

As she put the paintings back in the other room, Macy got up, turned the stove off, and started getting out plates and cutlery. Kevin helped her set the table, following her lead in the unfamiliar house, as Mr Montolvere sat and watched. When his wife came back into the room, she took a variety of bowls out of the fridge filled with salads, then fussed about taking the meat out of the oven and plating it on a large dish. Finally, it was placed on the table in front of Mr Montolvere.

I hope you like pork, Kevin, she said.

Sure, he lied. Don't know if I've seen a leg of pork before.

It's a special cut of mine, Mr Montolvere said. I make it long in the shank here, you see? It was a big pig, that's why the joint is so large, see?

He was using an electric carving knife as a pointer, which Macy had placed in front of him. Kevin felt some relief that he wasn't going to be expected to carve.

Take a seat kids, Dario and I are going to get Roger. Macy has told you about Roger already, Kevin?

Yes, some, he said seriously.

Roger has some very serious problems, and he's not having a good day today. We like to include him at the table, but he won't eat with us and he may make noises or thrash. He has to be restrained for his own safety, and he wears a mask over his mouth in situations like this. It can be a bit frightening, if you're not used to him.

Okay. Kevin nodded, hiding his worry. He glanced at Macy, who was smiling at him warmly.

Just remember that he's really confused, Kevin, Mrs Montolvere went on. If he looks at you or makes noises at you, just remember that he doesn't know what he's doing, not really. Probably the best thing you can do is just ignore him. All right?

Sure. I'll be fine, he answered, still aware of Macy's approving look.

It didn't prepare him, though.

Macy's parents returned to the room pushing a figure in a wheelchair before them. Roger looked to be a guy about Kevin's size, but it was hard to tell from how he seemed strapped to the wheelchair and then covered in so many swaddling blankets that he couldn't make out his body at all. The blankets trailed right down to the ground, hiding his legs. The only part of his body that was visible was his head.

The lower half of his face was covered by a surgical mask. His hair was messy and dark brown, looking in need of a cut. Between the mask and his hair, most of the space was taken up by a pair of huge green eyes. It was the eyes that shocked Kevin. He had never seen a pair of eyes so mad or so afraid in his life. They were like perfect circles, protruding from their sockets. As Roger was wheeled up to the table between the places for his parents, the eyes rolled about and fixed on Kevin.

Hi Roger, Macy said sweetly. The eyes didn't even flicker from Kevin's face. It was too much for him. His own estimation of his toughness was completely undone by that stare. He looked at Macy instead, who smiled sadly.

It's okay, she said softly. He nodded in reply, carefully not looking at her brother. The Montolveres got themselves seated either side of Roger and both looked completely at ease.

Before we start, Kevin, we like to say grace, Mrs Montolvere told him. A little old fashioned, but then we are a little old. I hope it's not uncomfortable for you.

Of course not, he said automatically. He was immediately uncomfortable.

Mr and Mrs Montolvere and, to his surprise, Macy all bowed their heads. He hadn't thought she was religious at all. He glanced at Roger, who was looking around frantically, before bowing his own head.

Mrs Montolvere started speaking and he was surprised again when she didn't speak English. He didn't know what she was speaking, he supposed that it was Italian since Macy had told him that was their heritage. It didn't really sound like his idea of Italian, though. Maybe it was just how she was speaking but it sounded like a very old language, it sounded very serious and important, as though every phrase carried great weight.

Her voice stopped and Kevin carefully glanced around to see that the others were sitting up. The grace was finished, he was just surprised by the lack of an 'amen'. He guessed maybe you said something different in Italian.

Okay, I'll do the carving, Mr Montolvere declared and slid the platter closer. He stood up and took up his electric knife and a long fork. He didn't get to start immediately, as the sight of the meat seemed to have an effect on Roger. He was shaking in his chair and making muffled cries, his eyes fixed on the leg of pork.

Yes, that's right, darling. His mother carefully swept some of his hair back off his face. It's okay, darling. Go ahead Dario.

Pass your plate up, Kevin. With a sinking feeling, Kevin realised he was going to have to eat the pork. This was made worse when the electric knife fired up and cut into the meat. Pink juices ran onto the platter showing it was much less cooked than he would have preferred. All he could do was sit and grin while the older man cut him off thick slices.

The sound of the electric knife galvanised Roger. He started thrashing in his chair, eyes squeezed shut, muffled screams coming from his throat. It was obvious his mask somehow gagged him as well. Through his shock Kevin thought this seemed a bit harsh for a sick person, still he also thought that the obviously loving family would try to treat Roger as well as possible.

It was such an extreme reaction, though. The dude was obviously terrified, and if he hadn't been strapped in under the blankets would surely be leaping from the room. His head, the only part he could move, thrashed about wildly.

Once Kevin's plate had three slices of pork Mr Montolvere stopped the knife. Roger's screams subsided. He hunched, spent, in the chair, sobbing in such a wretched way that Kevin's heart went out to him even more. His mother continued smoothing back his messy hair and straightening his blankets.