“You should all try raw meat,” my aunt says, smiling at us during one family barbeque. “Healthy!” Like a lion, she bites down and chews her cherry red steak delightfully in front of us, our faces wrinkling simultaneously.
Putting my fork down, I catch Grandpa shaking his head while my parents and other relatives recoil. It isn’t the first time she has done this. And it makes us lose our appetite looking at our juicy grilled ones. Awkwardly, we just sit there until one of my uncles has had enough.
“Stop eating like a zombie! Look at your face!” He stands up to her, huffing. “We have kids! Eat like a real human!”
At that point, she snaps.
“You guys do realize cooked meat contains carcinogens, the same stuff found in cigarettes, right? The ones that cause cancer?” My aunt whips off to her table. “Cooked meat is unhealthy! Raw meat isn’t! Red and delicious! Grass-fed and no hormones! Real nutrients!”
Undeterred, my uncle tries to yank her plate, only to face her fork between them. I squirm in my seat and duck under the table as my uncle swats her hand away. He yells at her until Grandpa tells him off to leave her alone. Afterward, my aunt resumes life as normal, much to my uncle’s fistful rage. I hate family fights.
While most of the family rolls their eyes and ignores her for the rest of the time, I’m in the minority, the opposite. They don’t understand. I mean, it’s her life, her decision. And yet she’s the black sheep. I know that feeling very well. It’s unfair to her because she’s not hurting people. They just don’t get it.
Later, I join her during the fireworks and hand her an orange soda.
We watch as one rocket ascends and explodes in a brilliant red white flash against the starry sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” My aunt says, sipping her drink. “Bright and fresh?”
“It is,” I say. “It is.”
Before going home for the night, I hug her and promise I’ll visit her soon. Out of all my aunts, I consider her the coolest one.
We live in a rural area where an acre away behind our house stands the woods. A few houses down the road opposite of us is where my aunt lives. It’s an old white house that sits around a gentle road bend. A good walk would take you there. I don’t mind doing this.
Almost every day, as promised, I would drop by my aunt’s house to say hi, even when it’s school. And I would spend time with her into the late afternoon just to keep company. Mom and dad work late night shifts anyway, so I’m not too worried.
One late afternoon, I’m at her house, and we have our usual strawberry milkshakes made of berries from her strawberry patch behind her house and organic milk. It’s going great until my aunt decides to have an early dinner.
“I want to repay your kindness from the barbeque earlier.” My aunt winks at me. “I’ll be back.”
I’m speechless as she brings a rack of raw steaks and ribs and chicken out of the fridge. She then puts out two large plates and carefully divides the raw meat between us. When she finally notices that I’m not digging in, she gently pushes my plate toward me. I crack a nervous smile, trying to suppress my disgust.
“This is great,” she says before biting her cold rib. “Delicious. You’ll grow up to be a strong woman if you do.”
I cast my eyes on the raw pink chicken drum, then the dark red steak and rib. There’s still light frost on them. I purse my lips, staring at my plate.
“You won’t be strong if you don’t eat it.”
It takes me a minute to reply. “I–I can’t eat this, Aunt [her name].” My throat feels tight. It’s the truth.
“Oh, you can, silly. I’ve eaten raw meat since I was on the gymnastics team in your school. See my trophies in my living room?”
“Well, yeah, but–“
“Eat it.”
I raise my brow. That doesn’t sound positive at all. It’s a dark command. Unlike the aunt I love and know.
“No thanks.” I drum my fingers nervously as my aunt raises her fork at me. “I’m okay; fine as ever be.”
“Eat the raw meat.”
Stubbornly, I stand my ground and after refusing her many attempts, it’s making me feel sick to my stomach. But her eyes… My hair raises as my aunt stares at me dead in the eye, hammering her fist on the table. I jump and chills come as she grabs a fork and corners me. My heart drops into my stomach. I sniffle as chills paralyze me. Cold metal strokes against my jugular. It tickles. My heart pounds hard as the prongs reach my throat lump and stay there. I suddenly remember she did this to my uncle at the barbeque. Her fork.
This feels like the longest minute until I suddenly see tears gushing from my aunt’s eyes, her cheeks pinkening.
I’ve never seen her cry like that before. She backs away, releasing the fork and sinks onto the floor and wails. While her fork scared me, my heart hurt for her at the last minute.
No relatives visit her, but I do, and she’s being herself after all. But her actions scare me.
“Go,” my aunt whispers to me. “So sorry… So sorry. Go home.” A warm silky whisper.
Quietly shaken, I leave the house with tears on my face. I haven’t seen her after that, though I do worry for her. It isn’t until a bad rainstorm hits the area months later do I see her again.
It turns out the rain has flooded my aunt’s house. By this point, I want to give my aunt another chance despite what happened. My parents don’t know. I can’t bring myself to tell them. The idea is I don’t want to abandon my aunt after some incidents. She’s gone through enough ridicule and shunning already. After some convincing, mom and dad agree. It shouldn’t be forever. And my aunt takes the move excitedly, bringing some of her raw meat with her, much to their chagrin. What happens now shouldn’t be bad, right?
Everything got off to a start on the first day. Mom, dad and me all watched in amazement as my aunt wolfed the entire burger patties within an hour before we could cook them. And she took gardening with enthusiasm, as well as making fresh lemonade for everybody. It was a start at least.
But something weird happened to all the meat in the house on the second night, which ended up with my aunt being annoyed. It was a mystery for a while. She tried not to complain at first, insisting she’s fine.
As time went on, however, she became extremely pale. I mean, she looked really sick even though she could still do chores and whatnot. Things eventually got hairier. My parents argued with her, accusing her of sneaking around the house, and said that they had thrown out the remaining raw meat, knowing her habit. Telling her that led to something rather unexpected.
The next thing I remembered was my aunt storming off to her room, stomping her feet, mumbling nonsense. She’s been upset ever since.
It wasn’t the only thing I noticed, however.
My aunt began to stay outside the house longer than she had previously. And when she came back inside, she’s quiet and had limited contact with everybody. It made me wonder how long she had been staying out there, as I noticed a stinky smell coming from her. And her appearance had changed, wearing dirty clothes, her hair wild. I tried my best to mind my business, focusing on school and other stuff. It didn’t take long for me to find out one day. I caught her rolling in the dirt joyfully like it was snow.
“Rolling in the dirt brings you down to earth!” she explained. “You should try it, silly!”
I could only watch in amusement.
By the sixth night, I thought I heard something downstairs. Some bangs and clatter. I came down, staying close to the wall. The house was dark except for the kitchen and dining room. I wormed around broken china. The fridge was opened wide, the light beaming like the small chandelier above the dinner table. It was a mess.
“Aunt [her name]?” I gaped at my aunt as she dug around under the sink. “What are you doing?”
My aunt stopped and looked at me, her eyes bloodshot, her skin very pale. Her uncombed, frizzy hair covered her face, and I could see her eyes glinting through it. There was something about those eyes. Cold, calculating. It unsettled me.
But I asked again, only for her to lick her lips repeatedly. She approached me, extending her arms as if she wanted to touch me. “Raw meat,” she said, “I must have… raw meat.”
The way she said that sounded zombie-like. Not her usual bubbly voice I’m used to.
“Raw meat… Raw meat…” Her eyes focused on mine. “Raw meat…”
A funny feeling in my stomach came and my heart pounded fast. I just stood still. It was as if my soul left me. It was very weird.
“Aunt–Aunt [her name],” I say, my voice shaking, “what–what are y–you doing?”
But my aunt only grabbed my arms like an eagle snatching a salmon from water. Her nails dug into my skin. I didn’t know what’s wrong with her, as her eyes were bloodshot and bagged. She hissed at my face and my eyes grew wide. I almost peed my pants and almost screamed as she showed me her teeth. And I saw a wild look on her face, eyes wide, a wide grin. I shut my eyes, trembled and yanked frantically.
“Let me go! Let me go!” I pulled and pulled. She showed no sign of letting go. She then laughed like a witch.
Suddenly, the front door cracked open. And my aunt snapped out of it as soon as Mom and dad entered the house. Thinking back, that time was awkward and creepy and cringey. I never saw my aunt like that before, but it scared me terribly, so I began to avoid her.
By the second week, at breakfast one day, I saw my aunt briefly before going to school. Instead of smiling, she looked at me, licking her lips repeatedly. I stayed quiet as soon as she headed for the spare bedroom. Though I didn’t know what was happening with her, I did spend the school day trying not to worry. When I got home, I found her staring at me. I backed away out the door carefully and used another way in. Once in, I found her gone. I then went into the kitchen, hoping it’d be a nice change of scenery.
While I scribbled on my report, I stopped. There were these scratching noises that followed. Not like a mouse… but something. I tried working but I had this sudden feeling. I had goosebumps. Was I being watched? I didn’t see my aunt anywhere and I was alone in the dining room. A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t like it at all. I couldn’t concentrate, so I changed rooms and resumed homework. While doing that, I thought I heard something climbing the walls outside my room. But I didn’t come out and locked my door.
The hours ticked by, and before I knew it, mom and dad came home early.
We had dinner without my aunt. About midway, my parents began talking about how my aunt wasn’t going to be good for the household for long. They proceeded on to the point of kicking her out. I dropped my fork. While I had tried to tolerate my aunt lately, I finally told my parents the truth. I told them my aunt had threatened me with her fork and that she had made me uncomfortable in my own house. The truth was the last straw and I lost my appetite. My aunt’s fate was decided. I couldn’t handle it anymore.
As I walked by my aunt’s bedroom, I thought I heard growling coming from there. But I thought it was just me.
Later that night, I heard footsteps from outside my door, a crash in the kitchen, and then a commotion, a scream. All downstairs. Then a sickening slurp. At this point, I was scared. I didn’t want to get off my bed. Maybe it’s the adults fighting again. But it felt different this time. Slowly I got off and I tiptoed down the hallway. I called mom and dad in desperate whispers. “Mom? Dad?” Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. And I swore I heard something cracking and slurping. I didn’t know what I was thinking. But I followed those sounds by tiptoe.
Tiptoe… Tiptoe… Tiptoe… Tiptoe…
Every tiptoe, I slowly made my way to the kitchen and I gagged. I recovered almost immediately, so sure it didn’t smell that bad before, and I saw the refrigerator left open. With the light, I also saw… Blood? A severed hand? To snap me out of it, I flipped the lights on and screamed. Blood soaked everywhere in the kitchen. It was a mess.
But what petrified me more were Mom’s and Dad’s severed heads. Mom’s frizzy hair and messy make-up. Dad’s grizzled chin, his eyes without glasses. Both had an agonized look on their faces. They faced me, glassy-eyed, and their bodies lay next to each other–what’s left of them, looking like flat balloons without air, only without their bones and muscles, organs and feet and arms. Their skins were shredded like paper. I just stood there, speechless. So much blood.
Then I heard whispers. Whispers of my name. Whispers that seemed to spread throughout the house, along with creaking and scratching mixed in.
“[My name] … [my name]….”
Then the creaking and scratching stopped.
“[My name]… [My name]….”
My eyes widened at the sounds of my name. And pretty soon, these whispers began taunting me. I tensed up, not knowing what to do.
And then, out of the blue, a bloodied foot fell in front of me. I screamed and stumbled. Somebody then laughed. And I cast my eyes on the high ceiling. What I saw gave me chills. There, my aunt, my cool aunt, smiled at me, her skin a lively color, her long frizzy hair wild, all caked in the rawest meat and blood possible. I couldn’t move as she effortlessly climbed down and slowly licked my cheek once like I was ice cream. Was I paralyzed or something? I wanted to run but my legs failed me. I just couldn’t move anymore, and that made me cry. She picked up a fork.
“I would’ve eaten you too,” she whispered to my ear as she caressed my other cheek with her finger lovingly. Her breath smelled like death. “Hush now. It’s me, silly.” Her nails poked my shoulders. “See this mess? This is what happens when I don’t eat raw meat daily. But you’re my favorite niece.” She scratched me with her fork on the cheek. It stung. “I tried rolling in the dirt to keep my mind off of raw meat. But you know, it’s too much. You should try raw meat. It’s healthy for you.” She licked my blood off the prongs as if it was chocolate and picked up the foot which I noticed was partially chewed. “If you follow me, you’ll be next,” she added, her voice an icy silk.
Helpless, I whimpered and said nothing as my aunt carried off what remained of my parents, crushed the lock on the back door, and exited somewhat quietly. What did I just witness? I felt numb. A few moments later, I trembled and snapped out and followed her until just outside, my hands and feet and PJs sticky and wet with blood.
“Where are you going?!” I asked desperately in tears. “Where?!” I kept asking until my throat hurt. But she didn’t answer. I wanted to follow more, but the warning she had given me stopped me from doing it. I could only watch their shadows disappear deep into the woods in silence. And I stood there for some time on the patio, hoping they would come back. They never did. Alone and defeated, I hugged my knees and wept about what I had just lost.
What my aunt did that night left me an orphan. She also left me with so many unanswered questions, questions I tried to repress but couldn’t.
Is this my aunt when she’s deprived of raw meat? Does this mean humans are on her menu, too? Where is she now? To this day, I still wonder about what happened that night.
And not only that, everywhere I go, regardless of what I’m doing in my new life living with other relatives, I can still hear her whispers, her cold silky voice, calling my name, trying to encourage me to eat raw meat.
Despite everything, I have to admit, it does seem intriguing and I often wonder what it really tastes like, and she did say I’m her favorite niece. Should I try raw meat?