I arise in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. I reflexively check my phone - 2:48 AM. It's time.
I slowly and quietly work my way to my basement. The family would never understand, so I opt to hide its food of choice in the chest freezer downstairs, under a false bottom. I pull the foodstuffs out and retrieve another choice morsel of the forbidden kind. I used to be able to sustain it on dead rats and missing pets, but its appetite has become more pronounced in recent months. The space where my ring finger once was grows cold, and I still wonder to this day whether or not she really believed my circular saw accident story. It matters not. While my wife and son were off on a spiritual retreat, I took the time to prepare a fentanyl-addicted vagrant who snuck into our garage to stay warm into cold cuts, and it seems to have taken a liking to the taste.
As always, I have come prepared with an offering, and a small cup. The foul machination despite my best efforts continues to reek of rotting flesh and feces. I once again count my blessings that neither my wife nor my prying son has asked about the small closet in the depths of my house I keep the sculpture in, under a cloth, in the farthest corner of the basement. Unlocking the closet, I open the doors and uncover it. A hideous mouth inside a tube, connected to a simple collar. An arm protrudes, holding a sharpened set of scissors. I can never get over the idea that it grins at me, even though it cannot see me. I think.
"Have you come with my tribute, mortal?" The mouth rasps at me, its voice like a nail file applied directly to my eardrum. I grit my teeth and speak to it.
"Yes, my lord. Another of your favorites."
"𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓔 𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓣𝓗."
I gingerly approach with my morsel of flesh. Not for the first time, I wonder if he can taste the poisonous ichor that must have stained that young man's body even after I drained the blood. Perhaps it enjoys the taste of corruption. The mouth is ravenous and bloody, and requires my full attention to ensure the meat is safely digested. But after a tenuous few minutes, the chunk of raw meat is fully digested and my pact is sated for now. The mouth sneers, and before fulfilling its own side of the bargain, speaks:
"My palate grows tired of this offering. You will find a more refined taste for me to enjoy before our next congregation, or the consequences will be dire."
I grimace. The manflesh I had so carefully hidden away was enough to feed on for years, and the disposal of such an amount would raise questions. "My lord, I don't know if I can find greater quality than what I have found so far. It would be dangerous, and if I'm found, I will likely be unable to feed you at all."
This was not the answer it wanted to hear.
"Our bargain is NON-NEGOTIABLE. You WILL find morsels of substantial quality, should you hope to maintain our relationship. Do I make myself clear?" Its tone became bestial in nature, and I felt my blood run cold. My ring finger began to hurt again, and I felt my knees weaken. The tainted orifice grinned.
"No matter. I know of two sufficient options within your grasp. Either one shall suffice. It is up to you to prepare the offering. I do so miss the taste of a woman's flesh..." The voice dissolved into a guttural cackle and I knew exactly of whom it spoke.
"Now, our pact. Quickly now."
I raised my cup to the base of the pipe, and the arm holding the scissors drew across its own metallic throat, from which a viscous black ooze poured. It dribbled slowly and ominously, before drying in its entirety as quickly as it had appeared. I quickly drank, holding my nose against the smell. The taste was as repugnant as ever. Within minutes, I was beset with a vision - Numbers, figures, places, people, and more. It was as if I had been supplanted with another man's memories, even though I knew this to be a future beholden to only me. When the visions and convulsions subsided, I was on the floor of my basement once more, the closet locked again, and I was alone with a horrific knowledge of the future to come, and the coarse laughter of my lord ringing in my ears.
harvest.
