story title: The Last Fest
The invitation arrived in a plain black envelope, sealed with crimson wax. Inside, elegant script read:
"You are cordially invited to a night of exquisite dining. Come alone. 8 PM sharp."
There was no return address, only a location. A secluded mansion on the edge of town. Curiosity got the better of me. I arrived at the mansion precisely at 8 PM, dressed in my finest suit. The door creaked open before I could knock, revealing a dimly lit foyer. A butler, pale and gaunt, greeted me with a silent bow and led me to the dining room.
The table was set for two. Crystal glasses gleamed, silverware sparkled, and a single candelabra cast flickering shadows on the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and something metallic. I took my seat, and moments later, my host entered.
He was tall, impeccably dressed, and unnervingly calm. His smile was too wide, his eyes too bright. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Tonight's menu is... unique."
The first course arrived—a delicate soup, its broth rich and fragrant. I sipped it cautiously, surprised by its depth of flavor. My host watched me intently, his smile never wavering. The second course was a salad, its greens fresh and vibrant, topped with slivers of meat that melted in my mouth. "What is this?" I asked, unable to place the taste.
"Something rare. Something... special."
By the third course, I began to feel uneasy. The main dish was a roast, its aroma intoxicating. But as I cut into it, I noticed something strange—the texture was too familiar, too human. My stomach churned, but my host's gaze pinned me in place.
" Eat "
he commanded, his voice no longer gentle. I tried to refuse, but my body betrayed me. I took a bite, then another, unable to stop. The taste was exquisite, but the realization was horrifying. My hands trembled as I dropped the fork.
"What.….what is this?"
I whispered, my voice shaking.
My host leaned forward, his smile widening impossibly.
" You. It's always been you."
I looked down at my hands and screamed. My fingers were gone, the stumps oozing blood. My legs were carved, my torso hollowed out. And yet, I was still alive, still sitting at the table.
The butler appeared behind me, placing a mirror on the table. My reflection stared back—a grotesque, half-eaten version of myself. My host raised his glass in a toast.
"To the guest of honor,"
he said, with his eyes gleaming.
"Bon appétit."
The invitation arrived in a plain black envelope, sealed with crimson wax. Inside, elegant script read:
"You are cordially invited to a night of exquisite dining. Come alone. 8 PM sharp."
There was no return address, only a location. A secluded mansion on the edge of town. Curiosity got the better of me. I arrived at the mansion precisely at 8 PM, dressed in my finest suit. The door creaked open before I could knock, revealing a dimly lit foyer. A butler, pale and gaunt, greeted me with a silent bow and led me to the dining room.
The table was set for two. Crystal glasses gleamed, silverware sparkled, and a single candelabra cast flickering shadows on the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and something metallic. I took my seat, and moments later, my host entered.
He was tall, impeccably dressed, and unnervingly calm. His smile was too wide, his eyes too bright. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Tonight's menu is... unique."
The first course arrived—a delicate soup, its broth rich and fragrant. I sipped it cautiously, surprised by its depth of flavor. My host watched me intently, his smile never wavering. The second course was a salad, its greens fresh and vibrant, topped with slivers of meat that melted in my mouth. "What is this?" I asked, unable to place the taste.
"Something rare. Something... special."
By the third course, I began to feel uneasy. The main dish was a roast, its aroma intoxicating. But as I cut into it, I noticed something strange—the texture was too familiar, too human. My stomach churned, but my host's gaze pinned me in place.
" Eat "
he commanded, his voice no longer gentle. I tried to refuse, but my body betrayed me. I took a bite, then another, unable to stop. The taste was exquisite, but the realization was horrifying. My hands trembled as I dropped the fork.
"What.….what is this?"
I whispered, my voice shaking.
My host leaned forward, his smile widening impossibly.
" You. It's always been you."
I looked down at my hands and screamed. My fingers were gone, the stumps oozing blood. My legs were carved, my torso hollowed out. And yet, I was still alive, still sitting at the table.
The butler appeared behind me, placing a mirror on the table. My reflection stared back—a grotesque, half-eaten version of myself. My host raised his glass in a toast.
"To the guest of honor,"
he said, with his eyes gleaming.
"Bon appétit."