The Big Book of Horror Stories

Dinner

To young Holly her Aunt Agnes was the best chef she ever knew. Every weekend she'd come with her family to visit her aunt and uncle in her farmhouse, deep in the woods and stay for the weekend. The drive would be long and tedious with nothing but thick dense forestry, but when she arrived she would instantly run to the kitchen and watch her aunt cooking whatever they were having for dinner that night; Roast beef with mashed potatoes, Vegetable stir-fry with chicken, Chicken curry with garlic bread, Fried Eggs and Spaghetti Bolognese, Fish risotto with spices. It mattered not what was for dinner that night, aunt Agnes always made it so effortlessly and it would always taste luxuriously good. Even her desserts were unbelievably mouthwatering, her cookies were too good to be true and Holly simply dreams of her homemade ice cream. 

Holly looked forward to the weekends with anticipation. It became almost like a holiday for her, staying out in the rural woods for the weekend and stuffing her face with the most delicious food she ever had. She couldn't be happier.

Only recently, however, Holly began to notice something strange. Aunt Agnes had been more vacant and quiet lately. She would rarely speak to anyone, and everyone noticed that her and uncle Jeremy were completely ignoring each other. Agnes began to look very weary as if she had had no sleep, her voice was often hoarse in the mornings and she became more and more irritable.

It only got worse over time. Soon Jeremy would spend ages out in the woods walking and chopping firewood to fuel their old-fashioned stove that warms the house. He would return with his arms full of logs, his hands scratched and covered in splinters, his eyes wild and angry, almost as if he also had no rest. He would carelessly dump the wood in an untidy pile on the floor, storm upstairs to get changed, and return to the table hours later when everyone was just finished. Jeremy and Agnes would ignore each other almost as if they were no longer a married couple but bitter rivals, not even speaking to each other over the table.

On a particular weekend when Holly's parents had dropped her off at Agnes and Jeremy's they had announced that they had a business conference in town the next day and would leave her in the care of her aunt and uncle. Holly would've been delighted if her aunt and uncle hadn't been acting the way they were now. She reluctantly agreed as there would've been no other place for her to go, having travelled out this far.

As her parents left, Holly saw her aunt standing absentmindedly in the middle of the living room, staring into space. Thinking to herself that it'd be best to avoid any conversation at this point, she bolted off to her room to unpack.

Later that day Agnes served up tea, but it was nothing like Holly had ever had before. The food tasted like it had been thrown together carelessly, with no thought gone into any of it at all, almost as if aunt Agnes hadn't even been looking at what she'd been cooking half the time. It tasted flavouress and chaotic, she thought she could smell vinegar sprinkled onto the braised vegetables, which seemed to be only half cooked. A jug of gravy-seemingly out of place-was emptied carelessly over the battered fish, which was still raw around the edges.

Holly was bewildered. She had no idea what was going on. Turning around in her seat she saw aunt Agnes who was standing over the sink staring into space, and finally worked up the courage to speak to her.

"Aunt Agnes, what's wrong? Have you been ok lately?" She asked politely but still with a tiny sliver of fear in her voice.

Agnes made no sound.

"Aunt Agnes?" Holy persisted again, "Can you hear me? Are you ok?"

Again, silence.

Finally Holly was starting to get unnerved. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, making a start for her room when aunt Agnes suddenly spoke.

"It's him." She spoke abruptly, almost as if snapping out of a trance, "He's the reason for it all"

Holly froze and slowly turned around, facing her aunt.

"Who? What's going on?"

Aunt Agnes suddenly smiled, but it was a forced smile, bitter and caustic.

"Oh don't you worry," she whispered hoarsely, "It's just us. Your uncle Jeremy and I. We're getting old, you see. And we argue quite a bit. He never appreciates anything I make for him and only thinks about himself. Yet he always demands more and more, never giving anything in return. Asking for more, faster than I can keep up with. I barely have time for myself anymore all my waking hours I just seem to cook for him. All that and he doesn't even care for me. I'm losing my mind because of him."

She swatted at Holly as if trying to get rid of a fly.

"Off you go, go take a walk outside and get some fresh air. You're shaking all over. Dinner will be ready in a few hours."

Holly was unsettled and decided it was best to get away from her aunt for a while. Putting on a warm coat she went for a walk around the woods, trying to put aside everything that had just happened.

As the sun began to set she made for the house again, hungry and wanting to eat properly after the horrendous amalgam of a tea she had barely touched earlier.

Running to her room to set her coat down she could see that Agnes and Jeremy's room was locked and barricaded. She stood there, confused, staring for a moment before hurrying downstairs to get dinner.

It seemed aunt Agnes finally snapped out of her chaotic cooking trance and was now back to her professional cooking ways. Holly smiled as she saw the dishes laid out on the table. A large pot of meat stew, simmered spleen with mixed vegetables, barbecued ribs and dip, tripe with onion and parsley. It smelled delicious.

"You'll have seen your uncle Jeremy's room is barricaded." Aunt Agnes muttered setting dishes down, almost as if she had read Holly's mind, "That's just him. He's become a very odd fellow and now demands utter privacy. He won't explain why."

She handed Holly a plate.

"Eat up, you're hungry." She said with a smiled that this time seemed much more natural and sincere.

Holly dug in and began eating. It tasted much better than anything she ever had before and she wolfed it down hungrily, leaving not a scrap.

After that, aunt Agnes served up dessert. It was a jelly pudding stuffed with fruit and topped off with whipped cream. Holly ate up as much as she could.

"It's a bit dry, isn't it?" Aunt Agnes whispered affectionately, "Why don't you have some strawberry sauce here?" She lifted a large jug filled with a thick dark red sauce and poured a generous dollop of it on Holly's plateful of jelly.

As Holly began to swallow her last spoonfuls of jelly she suddenly realized something strange. The strawberry sauce had been sticky and tasted more bitter than fruity, and a lot of the meat stew tasted like pork.

And awful lot of pork.

She checked her watch. Nearly 10 PM.

"Isn't uncle Jeremy coming down to eat?" She asked. "It's getting late and he's been quite quiet all day. He'll miss all this!"

Aunt Agnes sat down in a chair and stared vacantly at the table cluttered with dishes and plates scattered with leftovers.

"Oh you know your uncle Jeremy," she muttered idly, "He's quite an odd man, him. You remember that night when he stayed out all night chopping firewood when our supplies were full, and then he finally stormed in when everyone was just finished and about to clean up? That's him. He always has a funny way of turning up at the table when you least expect him."