The Pie

Horror, 226 words

Content Warning: Gore, Blood, Animal Death

It was never quite the same after Mother set that pie on the table. Crispy buttery crumbs scattered against worn wood grain. I guess the real change happened when I cut it open, revealing the contents.

Mother screamed and vomited right onto my Father’s lap. I didn’t quite understand what was happening at the time. Children don’t quite ever understand what is happening.

Father stood up and walked out the front door without a sound. He left the door swinging on its hinges and was never to be seen again except in my dreams of the life before.

Life before the pie.

The pie, you see was a stew of sinews and guts — coagulated clots and teeth.

“What have you done?” Mother screamed as though the knife in my hand made me the culprit to the contents.

I looked at the bloody thing and began crying. Her tone hurt me the most, like a bullet in the stomach. Though, I suppose I imagined my insides looking a lot like that pie. 

This was all wrong.

She looked at me and hated what she saw. But she didn’t understand. It wasn’t what she thought.

And from my young lips I yelled, “But you hated the dog! You hated him! I was doing you a favor!”

Mother never looked at me the same after that.

After the pie.