A flash fiction piece about you, what you did, and how you handled the blood.

You reach out to pick it up. It’s cold against your skin. Moist too. Liquid drips to the floor at your feet. You have to grip it harder to stop it slipping out of your hand. The drips turn to a small trickle. You can clean it up later. There are more pressing matters to deal with now.

You can ignore the shrieking in the background, but it’s hard. You’ll be able to silence them later. For now, you have that thing to deal with. You put it down and rinse your hands. You know you should clean the blood off properly, but there’ll be plenty more to come.

You put your hand into it and pull out a chunk of flesh. Little bits fall off and land in the pooling blood on the side. The clean up’s going to be a pain. One more thing to do and then you can deal with everyone else. The first bit’s the hardest. Separate the skin from the flesh. A little nick will do it. You rub your hand along the meat, separating the rest of the skin. You can deal with the children now. After you clean up the mess.

You finish the cleaning, cover it in tin foil and put it in the oven.

“Turkey’s going to be a few hours yet.”

David Chitty was born and raised in Thanet in the 90s. He devotes most of his energies to writing fantasy fiction novels.

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1 Comment

  • Kaz Aitch says:

    I enjoyed this piece until I discovered it was a turkey, then I had to re-read. Is the premise, the MC killed a turkey, gutted it and cooked it? But on the 2nd read, the turkey is cold… so it came out of a fridge, so where did the blood come from? The build up of creepiness kept me reading

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