Insatiable.

An overly-pessimistic look on a morbidly grotesque event.

Insatiable.

A short story by Kim Mathews.

         Arthur was hiking in the woods one fine summer morning. It was such a glorious day, with the clouds so white and the grass so green and the sky so blue.

         So very beautiful, he thought to himself as he listened to the joyous sound of the burbling brook and the chitter-chatter of little animals in their leafy houses. It was such a glorious day.

         It was a day that had been made for being out-of-doors, for romping through the wood and becoming deliciously muddy in the much of the forest.

         Arthur loved the sight of the birds twitting away amongst the brilliantly swathed trees, the happy foxes and jolly rabbits frolicking to their music, not seeming the least bothered with him as he paused to bask in their happiness. He whistled to himself a merry tune, passing by a plump spider slurping away on a twitching, struggling moth that seemed to scream to Arthur for help in a teeny bug voice, its struggles slowly ceasing...

         In such a merry mood, he failed to notice the darkening sky that was fast overtaking his beautiful day. Quite suddenly, the moon managed to eat the sun, and with a defeated sigh was forced to make camp.

         After rolling out his bed pack and making up the fire, his stomach gave a mighty rumble. Happily he looked through his bag to see what vitals he had packed, but found none; he had forgotten them in the anticipation of the glorious day, it seemed . He grumpily settled back down around the fire to help fight off the cool bite of the night air, tummy a-rumbling.

         His mood slightly lessened, he tried to think of things to cheer himself back up. Ahh, at least he was warm! Gratefully he stretched out a hand to the merrily dancing flames that offered such comfort against the chill of darkness.

         So very warm, he thought. Stretching out a tad more, he jumped back with a yelp as the once mirthful flame nipped his finger, seeming to laugh at him as he put the angry- peeling flesh of his forefinger in his mouth.

         Licking his burnt skin with his tongue and tasting the seared epidermis, he was surprised when his stomach chose that moment to give a loud bellow. Ignoring it, he continued sucking on his burnt finger to ease its pain.

         Upon pulling it out, Arthur was alarmed to see that all that was left of his finger was bone! His stomach gave another growl, and he with little hesitation was obliged to answer this time.

         He stuck another finger in the fire until it was blacker and more burnt than the first one had been, and began hungrily gnawing until not two fingers where white as snow. Still hungry, he stuck the remainder of his hand in the heat.

         So very good, he thought to himself upon finishing now both hands. Despite the rather large meal he had just eaten, he still found himself with a rather impressive appetite, so he swung his right leg around to the blaze, impatient for more.

         So very HUNGRY, his thoughts screamed in his mind, now being only a meaty torso with four paper-white, jangly limbs. His hunger absolutely insatiable, he rolled himself into the inferno and to him they seemed to embrace him like a friend, holding him in its warmth…

For the rest of the night, he picked the rest of his savory flesh from his bones with teeth and twiggy fingers until all that was left was a bleached skeleton with bits of himself stuck between his teeth, sitting next to the camp fire and grinning at how lovely the forest seemed that night.