Sunday, 6 December 2015


by Shannon Bell

I can’t abide raw meat. It’s not that I don’t love the taste of blood, I do. But it’s the smells and the sounds, as much as the taste, which informs my dining experience.

The smell of a juicy, fat-marbled piece of meat roasting over a naked flame; such an aphrodisiac.

A crackling fire, sizzling flesh, spitting fat, terrified screams, what music!

“Please,” he begs. His fear flavours the meat, his tears a tasty marinade.

I carve a thick slice of thigh. At this rate, he won’t last a day. I like them alive, but oh, I am a glutton.

Author bio: Shannon Bell is addicted to words. You will find him madly writing away in the spare time he has available between holding down a full-time job, being part of a dysfunctional family and looking after his energetic, attention seeking dog.

Feast is part of 101 Fiction issue 10.

1 comment: