A horrible little something.

I responded to a question on Instagram today: what scares me? I answered ‘Death – both the process and what comes afterwards.’

This got me thinking about what, exactly, scares me about it and I’ve come to the conclusion it’s being taken and killed by a psychocannibal (I only saw fifteen minutes of The Silence of the Lambs, but the effect lasted!).

Naturally, this meant I needed to write it down…exorcism of fears through creative writing? I’m also following #verbuary2019 on Instagram and today’s writing prompt is ‘sandwich’ so I worked that in (poorly).

So. Here you have it. My take on psychocannibal horror in under 300 words. Enjoy. Or not.


I’d been here, bound blindfolded, for felt like eternity. My shoulders, knees and hips burned from the unnatural position I was forced to maintain, and in the pitch-darkness I saw kaleidoscopic rainbows of light. I’d long given up screaming as the crumpled rag in my mouth muffled even the loudest sounds I could produce. Suddenly there were heavy footsteps. I jumped, my breath coming faster, my heart thumping hard against my ribs.

He ripped the blindfold off, causing me to screw my eyes shut as light stabbed at me. As sight returned, I saw he was holding an oddly shaped knife in his left hand, the fingertips of his right hand softly caressing the flat of the blade.

“This is a Victorinox skinning knife,” he told me. “It allows me to skin prey almost effortlessly. Rabbits, deer, boar…humans…” There was lust in his tone as he trailed off.

An odd calmness possessed me as he came closer, taking me into a twisted parody of an embrace, setting the bladeto my skin. There was almost no pain as the knife sliced through my epidermis, and then the burn began and I cried out.

Blood welled up through the cut as he neatly flayed a long strip of skin from my upper arm. He breathed hoarsely and I felt his lust against me even as tears and snot streamed from me. I screamed into the rag and strained against my bonds while he cut.

Finally he was done, proudly showing me my own flesh, dripping with blood. He tipped his head back and slipped my skin into his mouth, chewing with evident delight. He swallowed and grinned. “Delicious! Although it would have been even better fried and served in a sandwich…”

Published by kizzywiggleboo

I'm a full-time mother to three lovely aspergic kids, wife to a special bloke, and totally deranged. I also occasionally write stuff.

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