This was my entry in the Grey Matters Flash Masters dark flash fiction contest for June. We had to incorporate the following words into the piece and cap it at 200 words exactly: devour, moist, cushion, yesterday, and overturned.
As Court masticated on Taryn’s moist trapezius muscle, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left the garage door open.
He remembered pulling from the driveway, but not if he had pressed the button. He tended to be spastic like that, forgetful.
Taryn was propped up against a concrete facade, dead. Been dead since yesterday. Most of her organs he had harvested in the cooler around the corner. Saved the brain for later.
“Taryn, dear, is that uncomfortable?” Court said, as he reached for a small pillow. “Cushion?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Fine, just trying to be nice,” Court said and sipped some knock-off wine from the Dollar Store.
Then he overturned the memory in his head. He did pull out of the driveway, but had dropped his Boning knife in the nefarious gap between the seat and console. Maybe he didn’t shut the garage.
Rarely did Court devour his meat, but he began to get cold sweats about the open garage door. He even left some of the muscle on the plate and stood.
“Dear, sorry to cut our little date short, but I must attend to something important. Ta-ta for now,” Court said.