Eat me, Baby

immortal

You can find all sorts of things in the alleyways of St. Petersburg; mostly dirt and dumpsters, yet occasionally you might find a dog, a drunk, or in this case, a pleasant enough man trying to re-grow an arm in peace.

“Ah!” I tell him. He holds up his good arm, defensive. There is a lot of blood. He begins speaking Russian. I try to focus, but I am not entirely sober.

“Sorry, I understand little–speak fast, uh, no–hot?” I say, in Russian.

He looks long at me. “I speak English,” he says, his voice soaked in pity. He seems to have forgotten about his arm. That is, until I stare at it.

“Do you need a hospital?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. I’m immortal.”

I frown. “Huh? I think you’ve got the wrong word.”

The man stands up. “I’m from Yorkshire, so, no.”

“So?”

“So, I just need somewhere quiet to regrow my arm and I’ll be fine. Don’t concern yourself.”

I stand there, scared, but still a little concerned.

“I don’t live far from here. It’s a bit cold,” I say, surprising myself and him.

“Uh, okay,” he says. He steps towards me. I take solace that he is not very big. I walk first. He wraps his jacket over his stump and follows.

“Green or black,” I ask, back in my kitchen. In the light he is etiolated, skeletal.

“Black.”

I set the kettle on. I sit. I try not to look at his stump of an arm.

“So, why are you in Russia?” he asks, pleasantly.

I shrug. “I like it here.”

He frowns, but doesn’t argue.

“You?”

He shrugs, something stringy falls from his stump onto the floor. I don’t mention it. “I fell in love.”

“Oh,” I nod, understanding.

“Yeah. It was perfect, really. We just worked so well together.”

I smile, feeling warmer towards him.

“Yeah I–”

“She was a cannibal,” he adds, cutting me short. “Oh, sorry, were you saying?”

I shake my head. “No, no, go on.”

He sighs. “Well, I’m immortal, as I said. And well, we met online. Started as a long distance thing. I’d send her some fingers, some toes. But, you know how it goes.”

I can’t manage a nod. But I don’t stop him either.

“Well, of course, we got to talking more and more. I learned Russian a few hundred years ago so, it was tough at first. But, we fell in love and I agreed to come visit.”

“Yeah,” I manage.

“Well in person, she was different,” he whines.

“Different how?”

He looks at his missing arm for the first time, his eyes well up. “She was just so hungry. So, I said she could have my hand. Just the hand you know. But, well, the word for hand and arm in Russian is the same and before I could stop her, she’d hacked it off.”

The kettle goes off. I almost leap for it.

“Sugar?” I ask.

He nods.

“One or two?”

He holds up a finger. When I get back to the table he is crying, full bellied tears. I reach out to pat him on the shoulder, think better of it and say “sorry, man,” instead.

“We started arguing something awful. But then, I passed out from the blood-loss. I’d only just woken up when you found me. She must have dragged me there and dumped me.”

There is a sick crack as fully formed bone shoots out from the bloody stump. The man seizes, knocking over his tea.

“Oh, shit, sorry mate, I’ll get it,” he says.

But, I’m already standing. “No, you’re good,” I say, snatching up a dish-rag. “You’re good,” I add, watching meat slide out, covering the exposed bone.

 

24 comments

  1. Well, really strange and creepy! Brrr, terrible. Of course excellent funny writing and character calm like in all your sad and hopeless stories. Or are the characters resigned? No I think just calm.This humour and this rest, shows me something: hope
    I do not think he made it up. I think there is some true in the story, because there is always some true in the stories. But as flash ist artist, he likes to exaggerate, as he likes to minimise. Well, zombie/Miss Death seems to have overreacted. I think she has to learn a lot about him, to stay calmer and treat people in the right way. She hopefully becomes less lunkheaded. And hopefully he recover well.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi 🙂
    So, I found your blog a couple o’ days back, ’cause my friend recommended you persuasively. When I read some of your fictions, I thought of ’em extremely…. quirky.
    At first, I could just get a few references, but I gotta tell you; the comments helped me A LOT. XD
    Now when I read your stories, it’s almost like I can see the subtexts you lend with them, like I’m sitting in a debate room, trying to crack Rumi’s obscure meanings, mostly with the succour of the my bipolar personalities. XD XD
    Well, all I wanted to say was, you’re amazing, bruh. I don’t know much of your backstories or anything, but I’ll get to them soon, as I’m still trying to read and keep up with each of your previous posts.
    You’re not like the other fictioners I’ve read here on wordpress; straightforwardly moralic, tryna hide behind pretty words and phrases. You’re more like…… *you*, y’know what I mean. Not believing in veiling behind liquorice of metaphors yet you leave the reader in awe as to what you REALLY meant.
    (Wow. That was a long statement after ‘all I want to say’…. not very apt, huh?)
    Well, just stay awesome….. just wanted to let you know you’ve got your biggest admirer this side and I simply adore your work. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you so much for this. It really means a lot that you took the time to let me know all of this. It encourages me to keep going and keep working to get better. I hope that we can continue to intrigue and entertain you as we keep working away at it. Comments like this keep us going.

      Liked by 1 person

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