“That was great,” Robert said after he swallowed the first bite of tough overcooked beef.
“Really?” Jemma asked, her eyes shining with delight.
He took a mouthful of water and nodded with a smile as he tried not to choke on the second leather-tough piece.
His lies, however, paid off because he got laid that night. The next day he left while she was still asleep with the intent to never return again. She was cute, but her incessant talk about witchcraft was a little too crazy for him. Yet on his way home from work, he dropped by her flat. There was still some beef leftover from the night before and he ate the steak with a smile on his face.
This time when she kissed him, he was enthralled. Day after day he returned, and day after day she fed him her special steak, until one day when he couldn’t step out of her door anymore.
The world outside was all wrong because nobody cooked like Jemma did. Nobody kissed like she did, nobody smelled as good as her or had a voice as soothing as hers. He couldn’t leave. Each morning when she left to go to work, Robert would lie in front of the closed door, waiting for her to come back. Then when she did, he would jumped, yelped and wagged his tail with unbounded joy.
One night, when the star filled sky was without a moon, she brought him out of the flat and took him to a field where a group of men and women in black hooded robes had gathered.
They cuddled and petted him, and Robert felt so loved and accepted he was ecstatic with joy. He loved each one of them back, wagged his tail, licked their faces and let their hands roam where they would.
Then a man appeared, taller and bigger than everyone else. He grabbed Robert by the cuff of his neck, lifted him till only his hind legs were touching the ground and gazed into his still-human eyes. Robert was miffed for a moment but slowly, as though through a thinning fog, he recalled that he hadn’t submitted his Waste Water Management Analysis paper. He hadn’t called home last Saturday and that he had forgotten to pick up his laundry. He kicked one leg and glanced down then wondered where his shoes and socks were. A hooded person lifted his hind legs off the ground. Robert whined, suddenly feeling afraid. But he relaxed when they placed him atop a tarp-covered large rock. Tentatively he wagged his tail.
The tall man stood right in front of the rock then lifted a hunting knife with both hands and looked up. Robert growled and barked. He yelped with surprise when he felt his fore and hind legs being grabbed and his body being flipped on its back, belly up. He twisted his head about, snapping, yelping, growling to no avail.
The man pressed down on his chest, and Robert howled when he felt the sting of the knife cut into his chest. His mouth foamed with insane terror and pain as the man stuffed his hands into his chest, cracking open the rib cage. A numbing helplessness overcame him as he felt a hand cupped his heart and pulled.
Robert couldn’t tell if he stopped feeling the pain because he lost his mind or because the endorphins kicked in but he could feel the warm blood raining down on his face and gushing out of his gaping chest. He could sense himself shudder as his muscles spasm-ed, gasping for oxygen-filled blood. Slowly his body stilled until in the end only his eyes were left to watch the worshippers each take a bite out of his human heart.
“Mr Landon, we understand your argument and we also respect your right to worship,” the animal police said from behind the counter, “but you are being accused of animal abuse. The man who complained has also put up a video of the act online. We cannot ignore that evidence.”
The tall man let out a deep sigh. “Blood sacrifice is part of our ritual. After we sacrifice the animal, we cook it and share the meat. The Christians break bread for their communion rituals, but our church use fresh meat.”
“I am afraid you will have to bring the matter up in court.”
“This is religious discrimination. Do you know how many times I’ve been punished for practicing my beliefs? Twice. Why can’t you people just leave me alone!”
“We’re really sorry, sir, but if you get a permit for your church and nobody complains then you won’t hear from us anymore.”
Landon shook his head then signed on the line the officer indicated to him before paying the $25 fine. He stayed for a while to talk with the officer and to explain why a store bought chicken carcass was unacceptable for the ritual.
Jemma was waiting for him in the car, and once they had pulled out into traffic, Landon said, “Find out who complained, and invite him to dinner.”
She smiled.
Read more short stories.
