Psycho #10 – Hungry Hunters
© S.B. “LullaDIEs”
A Tale of Anthropophagy and Hematophagy:
Anthropophagy refers to an individual who takes part in the eating of human flesh.
Hematophagy refers to non-human creatures eating human flesh.
It was finally hunting season and I’d waited all year for it to begin. My dogs needed a good run, and I was in the mood for some fresh meat, not the packaged crap you could buy from the store that tasted like plastic and styrofoam.
Fall had just begun, and I was hunting with a pack of six large dogs; three black, two brown, and one white. The leafs crunched and ruffled beneath our steps as we moved through the forest. I enjoyed the scenery; bright yellows, burnt oranges, and vibrant reds surrounded us as we traveled deeper into the woods and further from civilization. It was silent enough for me to hear the large beasts sniff at the forest floor, tracking down our prey. The birds chattered in the distance, carefree and unknowing of the chaos to come.
Suddenly one of the browns sounded off, and the creatures bolted through the thick vegetation as a single unit. I carried no gun to slow me down, but following the deadly pack was still a challenge. They were quicker and more nimble than my own human legs would ever be. It didn’t take long for me to fall behind.
There was a scream a short distance ahead of me, followed by the ferocious growls of my angry pets. I smiled, knowing that we would eat well tonight.
When I found the pack I grew even more excited about the meal to come. They found a man wearing camouflage and an orange vest; a hunter who’d become the hunted. He was in a panic, trying desperately to fight the creatures off, but it was futile. The firearm he carried laid on the ground uselessly a few feet from him. No doubt he’d dropped the rifle when the pack initially attacked and startled the man.
Four of the dogs each grabbed a separate limb and were gnawing at them ferociously. Blood covered his sleeves and pant legs, but the canines never released their grips. Instead they tore deeper into the tissue, all the way down to the pearly white bone with devastating force. The sounds of teeth ribbing through flesh and raking against skeletal structures filled my ears like a lullaby.
The other two dogs had found separate areas in the torso to attack. One was muzzle deep into the mans side, and various organs poured onto the ground along with a thick, steady flow of blood. The other was clawing maniacally at the mans opposite side, as if he carried a treasure she needed to dig up.
The man was still alive, but he lost all the fight that was in him. As if accepting defeat, he laid on the leaf covered forest floor unmoving, except for the bodies occasional jerks from the dogs tugging him in different directions. He only moaned, and cried.
I kneeled down next to the man, and the dog closest moved over slightly to give me room to join them.
“Help me,” the man begged through faint, dying breaths, “P-please. Help me.”
I looked him in the eyes and grinned before turning my attention back to fresh meat I’d craved all year long. Picking a seemingly tasty area, I sunk my hand deep down into the side of one of the larger wounds and pulled a slab of his flesh free. It didn’t give way easily but after a few rough yanks the meat slab was separated from the body. It was still warm in my hand and oozed with dark crimson red juice, soaking my arm clear up to the elbow in the sticky fluid.
I bit into the corner of my piece and pulled. The meat was rubbery in it’s raw state, and required me to both pull with my arms and tear with my teeth. Finally a mouthful was free and I savored the gushy yet chewy texture against my tongue. It was as if heaven just opened up in my mouth, the flavor of real meat was that blissful to my taste buds.
The man had taken his last breath, but neither me nor the dogs paid it any attention. In his death I was able to close my eyes and focus on the sounds around me. The dogs were no longer growling, but the sounds of crunching bones and flesh being torn away from the main body filled the air. No birds were heard singing, no doubt they’d been scared away by my pack and I. I felt at peace sitting there on the blood soaked ground, sharing a meal with my family of dogs.
I finished my handful of human flesh, licked my lips with a smack, and went back for seconds. The dogs yipped playfully, their bloody lips curled upward slightly as if smiling in their happiness. One of the blacks ran up to me with the excitement of a puppy and licked my face, spreading gore across my cheek. I chuckled and patted the dog affectionately, who then ran in a small circle before returning to its meal.
When we were done eating our fill, I simply left the rest of the gory mess for the forest scavengers. The body was no longer recognizable as human, but instead resembled a baked potato; the outer shell split wide with pulverized insides mushed around and pouring out the sides. I felt no need to save the leftovers or let the meat sit in a freezer. It wouldn’t taste the same if I did.