The Gutting
by Sylvester Lewis
She lay there
on her side, unable to move, but able to see the
two of them that snatched her away and brought
her to Heaven knows where. They were standing
over her when she heard the woman say “I
never could do this. You know how much I hate it.
Why do you enjoy it so much?” she asked.
“Call me when you're finished,” she
cried out as she turned and ran from the room,
leaving him to do what needed to be done. He did
enjoy this part even though she didn't. And he
would get it over with quickly so they could
relish the rest of the evening.
The victim
just laid there, terrified. Her mouth wide open,
gasping for air, to no avail. It was almost
impossible for her to breathe. “Where am I?”
she called out. “What are you going to do
with me?” But there was no voice. She couldn't
be heard. Wild-eyed, she could only watch as the
man reached into a drawer and pulled out a large
knife. He ran his finger down the blade and
smiled his approval at its sharpness. As he
walked towards her she suddenly realized what he
was about to do. “No! Pleeeaase! No!”
she screamed. “Why? Please don't do this.”
But he wouldn't stop. “Let me go back to my
family, my little ones....PLEASE!” she
begged. But, still no voice. Only silence. She
watched, helpless, frantic, still unable to move,
unable to speak. He raised his arm. All he could
think about was the pleasure his efforts would
bring. As the knife plunged towards her, she knew
that it was the last thing she would ever see.
Her life did not flash before her eyes.
With the
precision of years of experience, he made the
first cut then slid the blade under her
glistening skin and, with great relish, started
to separate it from her body. He delicately
removed a bone here, an unattractive piece there,
his eyes shining with joy. When he was satisfied
with the results of his efforts, he turned her
over and started on the other side. Completely
engrossed in his work he didn't notice the
spittle seeping from the corner of his mouth onto
his unshaven chin. At last it was done.
Completely gutted.
While cleaning
up the gruesome, slimey mess, he suddenly stopped,
looked down at his handiwork and shook his head.
There's something amiss here, he thought. Then,
as he wiped the drops of persperation from his
brow, he realized what had to be done. “Yes.
Of course.”
He called out
to his wife, “Honey, it's not gonna be
enough. Reach into the bucket and bring me
another trout.”
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