Flash Fiction

Good Pies and Bad Guys

            Malcolm set out of town towards the forest with adventure in mind. The forest was rumored to be enchanted, but without fear Malcolm ventured over rocks and under fallen trees into the deepest depths of the woods. His youthful arrogance pushed him onwards. Some time into his journey, he came upon a house. It looked far from empty. On the clothesline hung feminine garments. Malcolm approached. On the porch railing sat a raven, eying him. He entered without hesitation.

            Not a sound could be heard in the house, only the creak of Malcolm's footsteps. He made his way to the kitchen where a pie sat cooling on the counter. His favorite, apple, he ate a quarter of it. It tasted unlike any other apple pie he'd ever had, though. It was great. And then Emily walked in. She wore nothing but a thin, white slip of a dress that was nearly see through in the sunlight streaming through the window. Both were quite shocked to see the other. Emily explained how she lived alone in the house, bound to it by law and litigation long forgotten. Malcolm listen to her story with curiosity. He thought her quite ignorant. He was particularly interested in what she had to say last. How she seldom had visitors, but when she did she was required to indulge their every whim.

            Malcolm forgot all about the pie he had enjoyed so much. His mouth now watered at the sight of Emily. He asked her where her bedroom was. As if she'd heard the question before, she replied that it was located upstairs. Malcolm took her by the hand and pulled her to the second floor. He pushed her onto the bed, covered in white linens, and then positioned himself over her. She looked up at him as though she knew what was coming next and informed him that she had never known the tender touch of a lover. He ripped off her dress and informed her that she still wouldn't, but would remember him and his touch forever. And then he entered without hesitation.

            The raven looked in the bedroom window. Malcolm, satiated, slept. Emily got up and went about her work. She wet a cloth with a liquid she had never bothered to smell before and help it over Malcolm's face. His slumber grew much, much deeper. And then she began to cut him up. The white linens became crimson. Malcolm became tiny bits of flesh for carrion birds and pie ingredients. Emily managed to get three high quality pies out of Malcolm. While the third of which was cooling, a man named Adam came calling. Adam didn't much care for pie. Emily was saddened that she couldn't tempt him to stay, because there didn't seem to be quite enough of Malcolm to satisfy her. Soon a man named James came along. James liked pie very much. Emily forgot all about Adam. She also forgot all about Malcolm. She had new pies to bake. Maybe she'd even make a cake one of these days.