I'll Tell You a Story

Out of Stock

"Baby back ribs, coming up!" Sydney forcedly lifted her lips one more time, struggling not to look daggers. If she only knew before how hard it was to be a butcher, and if it was not for uncaring father with explosive temper, she would never be in this job.

Her thought made her dig for more reasons. It seemed unreasonable now, blood and funk easily put her stomach in more knots. There was no way she became used to it. She would really hate herself if she was.

She cheerfully gave the order to the splenetic customer soon as she finished packing it. Her clock said it was already late afternoon. At last, she could relax for a while. Her shift was finally over. She could no longer count how many customers came in or how many she earned today. Usually during this kind of weather—the rain painted the township the dullest hue, the demand would decline more than half of usual rate. She did not expect that it would turn the opposite way.

"What could be happier than this?" something made her feel she was deprived of freedom for how many years. And she was now craving for it.

At last she could now enjoy silence. She immediately searched for her earphones in her pocket, then plugged it to her phone with a little crack in the screen.

Before she could finish the song she was listening to, the ring of chimes interrupted her. The way it was heard was so rude that it made her eyes squint then furrow. The glass door vomited a stocky man in tatty clothes. His worn out cap shaded his oval face, which made his looks more mysterious.

Sydney managed a weak smile as soon as he walked over her behind the counter. She asked how could she help him but there was no reponse. Silence was earsplitting. He just played his fire in lighter, letting the plating of his ring danced in the rhythm with its flickering.

She was a bit off. Her jaw was clenching, preventing her lips to draw a strident smile. She took a couple of deep breaths, batted his thoughts away, and made herself remember to stay calm in front of a costumer.

At last, his cap suddenly turned slightly downward. This means the man was finally choosing his order. The tension exploded, and relief filled her face. She was then contemplating whether it was the right time to ask him or not. When he seemed undecided, it was her cue to speak up but then his phone rang. The noise was too loud it almost startled her. She heard him snorted before answering the call.

"Yeah. Will do that. Gonna bring some fresh meats for this dinner," he spoke softly, as if he didn't like to be heard.

While her customer was busy talking over the phone, she noticed the man's tattoo on his wrist—a wide-open eye in the center of a red pentagram. She knew what was the meaning of it, and deep inside her she knew he was one of them.

He suprisingly asked her why she was spaced out. It was like a distant shake for her to stop being tensed and sounding suspicious. Instead of answering his question, she sidetracked her to what will be his order.

"Do you really sell fresh meat?" his hoarse voice was nails against the chalkboard. It easily sent shivers in her spine. It locked her jaws.

"I want a fresh whole leg," he continued as her fear gripped into her every bone of her skeleton.

They both stared at the left section. Whole leg was obviously out of stock. Silence was reigning again between them. She was expecting him to use his common sense.

"Are you gonna serve me or..." he queried, sounding like punishment was waiting if she would not comply.

Frightened about her security, she went to the corner and dialed her co-worker's number. Her friend instructed her to go the kitchen. A delivery was coming, her friend reassured to her through the phone.

Unpredictedly, the backdoor of the kitchen opened and her co-worker's figure materialized out of darkness. She was wearing a grim reaper-like costume. A part of her tried to convince her something was wrong about her. But more of her was pushing her just to be grateful for the help.

"Let me handle it. It's my shift," she whispered.

She just nodded in reply, and flashed a faint smile she ever saw. She was about to make her exit when through the corner of her eye, she caught her struggling in pulling something heavy. As she glanced over her shoulder, she witnessed the darkest horror in her whole life.

"One whole leg for satanic ceremony, coming up!" she just smiled murderously, revealing to her a red star tattoo in her wrist.

Sydney felt a sudden entire-body paralization. Well, she was not the only one who was frozen—using a machete, her friend cut one leg from a freshly-released-from-refrigerator body of a dead woman.