Carcass, Rotting [Part 2][Short Story][Adult Content].
In case you missed it, head over to part 1.
Arrival
Annaliese and Rupert are thirty-somethings. He’s an engineer and she’s a home-mamma. We all take on roles and responsibilities in life and Annaliese dedicated these years to raising their little cherub. Grace was born when the weather was warming and new shoots emerged from the earth. Their little family had started and they couldn’t be happier. Both parents were nurturing and life had nothing but opportunities for them ahead. Grace was a tender child. Her cheeks were round and plump and she slept through the night. Mothers-to-be and forlorn grandmothers, remembering their own parenthood alike would approach young Grace in public places touching her soft skin and tousling her blonde hair saying all those silly things like, “What a chubby bubby!” and “I just want to eat those cheeks!”. While it would be enough for most people to drive a protective hand across their innocent child, Annaliese would smile and absorb the compliments as if they were directed at her. After all, half of Grace’s DNA was hers.
Rupert had decided that there was little growth in his current workplace, full of industry heavy-weights and fancy hair styles. He was raised in a country town, now living in the city. Working on urban projects had lost its appeal. Annaliese was thankful he wanted change now, rather than later when Grace had started school. The last thing she wanted was upheaval during her formative years. Before long, Rupert had come across the Mill Engineer opening at Carcass Paper Mill. Rupert loved the idea of heading back to rural living. The fresh air and laid-back lifestyle all suited his personality. He was awarded the job in a process that surprised Rupert. After he sent out his application, by the next week he received a letter in the mail with an offer of employment. Not a phone call, nor an interview. Just a letter in the mail.
Departure
“Twelve hour shifts, a begrudged two weekends off a month and regular threats of unemployment! How can you tell me that’s fair?” Pat’s face was weathered and a deep hue of red. Small surface capillaries were visible over his nose and cheeks. His hands were gripping the table in front of him.
“I’ve been supporting you and your family for the entire time you’ve worked here. In fact, this mill is the whole reason this town still breathes,” George replied, foam etching the corners of his mouth as his voice shook the walls of the room.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, George! I’ve worked around and know my entitlements. With you, it’s like I need to justify why I deserve my allocation of fucking clean air each day! Look around you,” Pat pointed out the window into the whiteness, “It doesn’t appear to me that you’ve charmed this town into lining up to award you any citizenship medals. We are here trying to get by and you’re still here grinding our fingers and toes until they bleed. You’re already at the top. You’re already pulling the strings-” Jack, an older man in a denim jacket with a few white hairs adorning his scalp interrupted the two.
“Pat’s just a little wound up. His marriage..” Jack cut himself short and changed his tac. “You know Pat’s been a real source of strength here, George, guiding the younger guys. Just hear him out.”
“These entitled engineers feel they have the right to tell me how to run this business. I’ve been putting up with it for years. My pop? The same. They’re a pack of lame, whinging dogs and I’m sick of it. This is the reason we need new blood around here,” George addressed the white-haired man.
Without warning, Pat’s eyes began to bulge and he became unstable on his feet. He leant against the wall for support as he clutched his chest. His anger vanished as immediately as desperation replaced it. Jack dashed out of the room with purpose. The door flung outward in response to his palm and bounced off its rubber stopper.
The Abattoir
Their eyes like yours and mine look to their neighbour for comfort. The tight fit transmits any movement from its origin to the periphery. He is forced upon the foot of his neighbour. A bite of retaliation, a jostle and a shove through. Wailing. Screaming. Their captors’ eyes are glazed. Their minds warped and hearts tainted through repeated conditioning. They’re distant and unremorseful.
During the final weeks of autumn, the workings of the abattoir begin to slow down in contrast to the longer, warmer seasons. Spring and summer are times of birth, growth and renewal on the surrounding farms. The farmers provide care to their animals ensuring complicated births of lambs are assisted and that the animals are all fed and watered sufficiently. After all, a farmer must care for his stock as a salesperson cares for his wares. Without fattened animals and their offspring, famer’s livelihoods are crushed. The winters are grim and hateful. They grip and suffocate more lives than they release, and going into a winter with a poor harvest can torment the mind as well as the stomach of even the most stoic of men.
As with any workplace, cleaning and maintenance is a daily routine. Wiping tables, vacuuming office floors and washing away the blood of animals is all part of the job. Workers are pushed hard at the red. It’s no different to the mill in that respect - urgency from your employer. The torment of sleepless nights, however is a stark contrast. A film strip of fearful eyes and tremoring limbs on replay haunts dreams. Over the course of the operational months of the abattoir, despite the regular cleaning, an accumulation begins from the first bloodletting. The processing of animals is so incomprehensible in number that the floors escape complete cleansing and by the end of the season, there is heavy soiling within the grains of the concrete floor. The smell is permanent.
Gabriel heaved. His body lurched rhythmically. Strawberry milk ejected from his mouth and splashed onto the concrete floor. Howard rubbed his back, “You’ll be fine, Gabe. Once it’s out, there’s nothing more to come. You feel better after that?”
“What is that smell?” Gabe squinted his eyes in disbelief, while his nose received a horrid punishment.
“Are you telling me you haven’t a clue?” replied Howard.
“There is no way that is fucking blood. Why does it smell that bad?” Gabe held his shirt over his face.
“I can get you a mask if you want. I just find that it becomes a nuisance after about an hour. It rubs against your skin. It does help with the smell, though.” Howard was in his thirties. Fit, lean and unshaven. He wore his brown hair in a ponytail through the gap in the back of his faded red trucker-style cap.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea until I can’t deal with it on my face,” Gabe compromised.
Gabe was a Jack-of-all trades and recently secured work at the abattoir when a painting job at the church had expired after an altercation with the Anglican minister. He initially enjoyed working at the church. It was different to most jobs and the discussions he had with the Reverend about nature, a subject of interest they shared, stimulated his mind. Gabe separated from his wife a few months ago and he hasn’t spoken to his kids for weeks. Their mother has been a toxic influence and has fabricated stories about the couple’s break up. In fact, he caught the Reverend fucking her on their kitchen table after he came home early from the church, so the case was pretty cut and dry. Despite being caught, she denied everything when Gabe came back again to collect his things. Besides, what would they tell Cassie and Beatrice? That the kitchen table is no longer fit to eat at? There isn’t an easy way of telling children this kind of truth. It’s a case of keeping it completely from them or opening Pandora’s Box. Selina preferred a twist on the first option; completely deny everything. Even in the absence of the children. The fact was, Gabe knew what he had seen. She was an uninspired, deluded whore. It took immense self-control and thought for the future that prevented Gabe from doing anything more to the Reverend than tearing his pasty-white body off his wife. For that, he was thankful.
Click here for Part 3.
Become a Patron here.
As you all know, none of this gets paid for aside from your generous upvotes. I have created a Patreon account to fund the publishing of my manuscript, but all Patrons will gain access to a range of exclusive benefits including early access to Steemit content. If you like what I do here and could spare as little as a couple of bucks a month, it would make the world of difference to me to keep bringing you my best work, week in, week out.
All the best,
Nick.
All content is original and belongs to @nickmorphew [21 May 2019].
Disclosure: This article was not a paid promotion and was not self-upvoted. Nor were there any affiliate links.
I’m currently working on my debut fantasy novel based on my early work, Adventures in Elowyn Glade. Click the link to get an idea of where my first novel is headed!
You didn’t think you’d leave here without me shamelessly plugging my other work, right?
Recent Articles.
Amazing Spider-Man #300! [Time Travel Tuesday (1988)][Spoilers!]
Vegan Blood Test Examination; A Voyage into My Arteries.
Everyone Agrees Junk is STILL bad. [The First Thing You Should Change is What You Eat.]
Plant-based Nutty Chocolate Truffles [And an Afternoon With a Young Friend].
Vegan Recipes for the Converted and Uninitiated Alike.
Vegan “Matcha-Monsta” [Green, Nutty Icecream]. A Decidedly Delicious Dessert.
Vegan Blueberry Pancakes: Breakfast Made Super Easy!
Pumpkin and Kale Vegan Soup [An Unpredictable Love Story].
How to Bake Scones; VEGAN STYLE! Cruelty-Free Living Made Easy.
Restaurant Reviews (and Tesla Showroom)
[100% VEGAN] Shift Eatery, Surry Hills
[100% VEGAN] Matcha Mylkbar, St. Kilda
[100% VEGAN] Lentil as Anything, Newtown
Da Orlando Wood Fire Pizzeria, Wollongong
Do you enjoy gory mystery-thrillers?
Two devious, psychopathic minds go head-to-head trying to out-kill one another. Who will die at the hands of the two and how far will it go until the entire state is on the hunt for the duplicitous duo?
Check out The Coroner. Part 1 and Part 2 are linked.
So, you're a Star Wars fan? I almost wasn't.
In a two part micro series, learn of the devious practical joke my uncles played on me as a child. You'll never think of Darth Vader the same way again.