August, 2016
Emily Lushbaugh
Annabelle and the Butcher’s Shop
Lynn Dean lay sick with a fever in bed. The house is bare of food and Lynn’s daughter, Annabelle, is crying at her feet. “I am hungry, mother,” she wails. Lynn can hardly speak, let alone move about to try and find food for her child. Lynn’s husband and Annabelle’s father, John Dean, died a week ago from the same fever that now grasps Lynn in its claws.
“Annabelle,” Lynn croaks. “Go into town. Go to the Butcher Shop and see if the Wittman's have got any meat.”
Annabelle sniffles and nods. She first goes into the drawer and puts four pairs of socks on her feet. Her shoes, made of leather, were eaten a few days before her father died. Food is scarce of late. With the socks on her feet, Annabelle sprints down the stairs, suddenly high on the idea of fresh meat.
It is almost night out, hardly anyone is in town. The houses are all closed up, blocked off, or empty. Many have died from starvation, many are locked in their homes, eating whatever they manage to find that is edible. That is how Annabelle lost her shoes.
The ground is cold on her feet, so cold that it hurts. It feels as if she is walking on shards of glass. The air is frigid and Annabelle shivers as she nears the Butcher’s Shop. The light is on inside, a rarity as of late. Annabelle’s heart begins to race with excitement. Mother and I will finally eat, she thinks just as she knocks on the door.
There is no answer for a long while and Annabelle decides that they must be in the back of the shop and cannot hear her. She walks in and sees the empty shelves. Her high spirit drops quickly. Then, she hears a noise.
“Father, I cannot,” a voice says from far away. Annabelle stands very still and strains to hear.
“John Dean is dead, boy. Lynn will soon be dead also. It is like dominoes. One falls and then they all do. Do it, boy,” a deeper voice argues.
Annabelle is unsure of what the voices are talking about. She knows that it has to do with her because they mentioned her parents. “Hello?” she calls out. “It is Annabelle Dean! I’ve come to inquire about your food.”
A door slams and Kevin Wittman enters the room empty handed. “Oh, Annabelle! How is your mother doing? When I heard of your father’s passing, I felt very sorry for the two of you.”
“Yes, thank you. My mother is fine,” she lies. “We are in need of food, desperately.”
The door behind her opens up and the butcher’s son, James, enters. “As are we, girl.”
James wields a cleaver knife, a hesitant look in his eyes. Annabelle does not know what to think or what to do. Before she can come to a decision, the knife comes down on her head and cracks her skull open. She dies.
Realizing what he has done, James drops the knife on the ground and stares blankly at the girl's limp body. Blood begins to flood around her. Panic rises within James as he begins to mutter to himself. “What have I done?” And then to Kevin Wittman, “Father, what should I do? This is inhuman.”
Kevin begins to gather the body of the girl in his arms. “Son, we need the money. We need the meat. Our business is failing, the people are starving. Your mother and sister are starving. What else shall we do? Her life was already over. Another few days and she, too, would have been dead.”
This does nothing to calm the tremors James is going through. He paces around the pool of blood even after his father has taken the body into the back of the shop. He is disgusted with himself for doing such a thing. He is appalled by his father for talking him into it, and even more so, not blinking an eye as it happened. What kind of man can be okay with this sort of demise for a young, innocent girl? James thinks. No man at all.
Hours later, Kevin Wittman has removed the muscles from Annabelle’s face and placed them over the coals for his family to eat. The daughter and wife wait in anticipation, crusted lips and lustrous eyes. They do not have the reaction that James had. They are completely accepting of it. “Meat is meat,” the wife says as the girl's flesh is placed on her plate. None of them hesitate, except for James.
James crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the flesh. His mind conjures up Annabelle’s face and he suddenly feels nauseous. He looks up and sees his younger sister biting into it and can no longer hold in the contents of his stomach. He rushes out of the shop and vomits on the frozen ground.
Kevin exits the shop behind him. “What has gotten into you, boy?”
James screams, “What has gotten into me?! You had me kill a child! A young girl, the same age as my sister and you have the nerve to ask me what is wrong with me?”
Kevin slaps his son across the face. “Do not raise your voice at me. Do not raise your voice at all. Someone could hear and then we would all be hanged. Do you want that?”
James’ face falters. “No, father, I do not. But I also do not wish to watch my family eat the remains of a girl that I killed. I do not wish to watch the people of this horrible town buy the same remains and eat them. It is the most inhuman thing I have ever seen, the Lord as my witness.”
“Would you rather watch your family, and the people of this town, die? Would that please you, James?” Kevin shakes his head in disgust. “To me, that is worse than eating a few scraps of unnecessary meat. As I have tried to explain to you before, she was already dead. Now let us move on. Let us eat for the first time this week.”
With that, Kevin turns and stalks into the shop, his son reluctantly trailing behind. Once they have reached the back of the shop, Kevin shoves the plate in James’ direction. “Eat,” he commands.
James tries to hold his stomach contents inside as he picks up the piece of burnt flesh. He sniffs it and immediately wishes that he hadn’t. He nearly vomits again. “Eat it, boy!” Kevin roars.
Reluctantly, the flesh is lifted and put into the mouth of James. Tears stream down his cheeks as he chews. He tries not to taste it. Tries not to enjoy it. Tries not to accept the fact that his stomach wants more.
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